Page 59 of It's Holy Matrimony, Baby

“I probably wouldn’t base your come back on that,” Dean says, moving the microphone away from us with a curious expression. “Don’t think it will go over all that well. It was terrible. You need some practice.”

“I loved it,” I whisper.

“That’s a strong word,” Nox says.

“Is it?” I knot my hands in his shirt and lean closer. “I don’t care. What are you going to call it?”

“Angel.”

“I love it,” I say again.

“It needs work,” he says. “A lot of work.”

“You’re amazing,” I tell him. “And I’m not just saying that as your biggest groupie.”

“My groupie?” His grin turns sensual, his gaze filled with heat that shimmers through me.

I bite my lip and nod.

“Well then,” he says striking his mouth against mine. Sparks sizzle from the connection. “I think we best get off the stage.”

He unseats me from his lap and takes my hand, leading me from the stage to the wall of booths at the far end of the room. Opening the door he guides me inside. The minute the door is closed he crowds me against the wall and kisses me hungrily. “You wanna be my groupie, Angel? Wanna push your panties into my pocket and climb me like a big ol’ tree?”

God, do I.

“Here?” People can see through the glass doors. They can see everything that happens in these booths if they look in this direction, but the naughtiness of it has me flooded with arousal. My panties are soaked already. “What about Lou?”

“Hmmm.” His gaze is hot on my chest, and my breasts tighten. He leans in and runs his mouth along my shoulder to my neck. “She’d probably kill one or both of us. She has a temper.”

“We can’t.” I plant my palms on his chest at the same time he grips my hip. God, he’s hard and it does things to me. Makes it hard to be rational. But that girl with the dreadlocks is looking in our direction. This is all kinds of wrong. Even though it feels so good.

“Soon.” He palms my ass. “How about you give me your panties until then? Shove them in my pocket. No one will know except you and me.”

My panties in his pocket? My pussy naked under this skirt for him and only he knows it? I press my lip together and clamp down on the bolt of desire that courses through me while I nod. “How? People will see.”

“No one can see you. You’re hidden. They can only see me.” He gathers up some of my hair and brushes it away from my collarbone so he can press a kiss there. “Push them down and wriggle out of them.”

“Okay.” I hike up my skirt on one side and find the elastic while he nibbles and sucks on my bottom lip. Hooking a finger into it, I pull it down over my hips and thighs until they’re sitting loosely and then wriggle until they fall around my ankles. That’s what people would see if they came too close to the booth now. My panties around my ankles. I can’t believe I’m doing this for him. I can’t believe I want to.

“Good work.” Nox stops kissing me to crouch down in front of me. Over his head, I can see a good portion of the room, but no one is watching us as I lift one foot and then the other for him to take my panties. He bunches them up in his hand and then pushes them into his back pocket as he stands up.

Opening the booth, he ushers me out. My thighs rub against one another, slick with arousal as we go back to the bar and order another drink. Nox stands behind me, so close he’s constantly brushing up against me. He whispers in my ear all the things he plans to do to me as soon as we’re alone, until I’m struggling not to pant with how needy I am. Until I can’t bear another minute of waiting. It’s delicious agony. Being married to him is the sweetest torture. Falling for him is nothing like what I thought it would be.

Lightning forks, slamming into the valley, blindingly bright. It lights up the sky as clear as daylight for a few seconds. My hair whips around my face, gets in my mouth and my eyes. I grasp as much of it in my fist as I can while concentrating on moving between the tree lines. Giant shadows loom across the path while thunder rumbles on and on and on like a drum roll. Another bolt snakes through the sky and the tree in front of me sizzles and bows like it’s made of rubber. Bark cracks and the tree starts to fall over me…

Clutching my chest, I bolt up in bed. Nox’s weight is half spread over me. My pulse is still racing while I shove my damp hair back from my face. What the hell was that? Sliding to the edge of the bed, I grope around in the dark for Nox’s shirt and pull it on. It’s so hot and stuffy in the bedroom. The air seems to weigh a ton.

Hollander lifts his head from where it was resting on Nox’s calf and blinks at me. Putting my finger to my lips, I signal him to be quiet. He yawns and stretches his giant front paws out in front of him before settling back into sleep. Getting up, I tiptoe out of the bedroom and slowly pull the door shut.

I’ve never been a cat person or a dog person. I’ve never wanted to own a gold fish or a turtle or a ferret. I move around too much. I live in hotel rooms. Getting attached to anything doesn’t make sense. But Hollander is different. Hollander doesn’t give me an option but to care about him. Just like Nox doesn’t give me an option but to want what we could be.

Hugging myself, I stare out the huge glass windows over the valley below. We never closed the blinds tonight. Too busy shedding our clothes and getting as close as possible. A breeze rustles the leaves of a couple nearby trees. Doesn’t stir the heat inside the cabin so I open one of the windows. Outside smells densely of fresh grass and foliage. Rain is coming. Or a storm. Like what woke me up.

I’d Googled orange trees after Nox told me about them. Searched out everything I could find on their symbolism. There wasn’t much. Most of it was along the lines of purity and wisdom, or fruitfulness. I’d come across a little bit about relationships that fit with what he’d told me. It was mostly filed under dreams. I’d ended up reading every entry I could find. But dreams don’t mean anything. Just like a tree is a symbol of a tree, a dream about a tree is still just a dream. So what if a falling orange tree is a symbol of death.

I mentally give myself an eye roll. Look who’s being dramatic. I rub at the goose bumps dotting my arms.Of course I’m dreaming about them after reading as much as I did. No matter how hard I try to follow the trail of common sense, doubt creeps in, and after the conversation with Liv earlier... It’s on my mind.

The first rumble shakes the whole house.

Lightning snaps through the sky like the flash of a camera, and I stumble as I jump back from the window. The storm is right on top of us. Another fork twists through the darkness, followed by the loudest crack. The windows rattle as fat drops pound them. They splash my fevered skin, bringing relief from the heat, as I shut the window. The floor vibrates under my bare feet. More thunder and lightning follow.

“Can’t sleep?” Nox asks, coming up behind me.

I shake my head. “It was too hot. And I was dreaming about a thunderstorm.”

About orange trees falling over. About death and dying and loss. And the curse that now more than ever I don’t want to believe in.

Because I have feelings. Very strong feelings about this husband of mine. Emotions that will shatter me if we have to part. Even that seems like too much of a loss.

“Looks like we got one.” He slips an arm around my waist, and I lean against his chest while we watch the show outside.

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