Page 64 of Just My Fake Husband

“I’m not a chauvinist, River. Come on, you know me better than that.”

She sighs and gives a small shake of her head. “I probably don’t know you better than that.”

“You want me to be jealous?”

“No,” she scoffs. “I remember the contract. No dating. No flirting. I’ve done neither. We said our vows, and I don’t think either of us should act outside of them.”

“Well, I can agree with you on that.” I grab her hand, find a tray with dirty dishes to leave my plates on, and head to the edge of the clearing, pulling her behind a thicket of trees. “Except, that could have been viewed as flirting.” I cock a brow.

“It wasn’t!” Now that we’re in a more private area, her voice has free rein.

“Okay, fine. Call it what you will. I don’t know why he was even here, but whatever.”

“You know I invited everyone from Caring Souls. It’s not a problem, Gabriel. I’m glad to see him again.”

“But you were chummy, and my father was watching.”

“Chummy? Have you been reading Nancy Drew?” she asks, her eyes glinting in the dusky air.

I ignore the Nancy Drew comment, even though part of me wants to laugh, begrudgingly. “Tonight is about you and me, not you and Antonio.” As soon as I spit out his name, I know I sound petty. I know it. But I can’t stop myself.

She arches a brow. “This side of you is entertaining. But I’m confused.” She starts to pace in front of me, and it looks like she’s talking to herself. “All of this is confusing. We’re pretending, but is this part pretend? I don’t understand.” She wheels back to me. “Antonio is a friend, nothing more.”

I don’t understand, either. I shouldn’t be jealous, but this whole pretend wedding reception and having my father here have unnerved me. That’s what it’s about, right? Regardless, I can’t let this go. “Then step off and act like my wife.”

She tilts her chin in the air, her voice chilling. “Don’t you ever talk to me like that again.” Her slitted gaze shifts to something behind me and then her eyes widen. She steps to me, yanks at my shoulders, goes on tiptoe and crushes my mouth in a kiss.

Chapter 23

River

My lips tour Gabriel’s, and my hands, hungry to punish him somehow, roam hastily against his suit coat and around his back, finding his lat muscles. He’s so strong, solid, and commanding—everything that would have made my knees go weak not long ago.

Now? His jealous display that I can’t noodle out has me coaxing his lips in a cadence and rhythm I’ve never known before. I’m angry—I want to kiss him so vehemently that he’ll never forget it.

Because he’s being childish.

He digs his fingers into the small of my back as he clamps me tighter to him, his lips burning me.

So this is what angry kissing is like, huh?

I sense a shift in him as a low moan reverberates from his lungs and through his bones. His anger gives way to want. Need and want. Toss in my desire to make him pay for acting so ridiculous about Antonio and there’s a whole mess of stuff happening in my head.

But not with the rest of me because these sensations are everything, a yearning and an ache. His hands are rough on my hips through the brocade of my wedding gown. And I respond on autopilot with a growl over my throat and tongue.

This has escalated quickly.

When that registers in my brain, I step back, and then remember why I even kissed him in the first place.

“Dad,” Gabriel says, wiping his mouth and tempering his breathing.

Had Gabriel even known he was there? When we started kissing, his father was behind him, but now he’s made his way around to face both of us. Or werewethe ones moving during the kiss?

Either way, I know my makeup is smeared and my lips are most definitely swollen and tender.

Thomas Tate’s hands are casually jammed in his pockets. His jaw ticks.

“Gabriel. River.” He tilts his head at each of us, and there’s a lingering stare in my direction that has me feeling like I need to pee.

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