Page 32 of Perfectly Wedded

Sloan

Vale wheels around, his eyes lifting to the glove I’m holding. “You voted for yourself?” he says with a confused frown, like I did this for him, and not because I’m hiding a secret.

There’s a weight pressing against my chest. I shake my head. “Sorry.”

“Looks like you’re going to enjoy some dessert,” Lucian says as Brax carries a tub of whipped cream into the room.

“This is the punishment?” Vale says, glancing between Leo and Brax.

“Who said it was a punishment?” Leo says. “You might actually enjoy this. Tate came up with the rules.”

Tate smirks. “You need to feed each other whipped cream.”

I glance at the single spoon and shrug. “Easy enough.”

Then he holds up a pair of zip ties. “Without your hands.”

“How are we supposed to do that?” Vale asks.

“Use any other part of your body,” Tate says, zip-tying Vale’s hands together before he moves on to me. “And figure it out as a team.”

“You couldn’t go easy on us, could you?” Vale asks.

“Just be glad I didn’t make you do this with your hockeyteammates,” he says. “That was somebody’s suggestion.” He shoots Rourke a dirty look.

“Have fun, you two,” Leo says with a wicked smirk.

“So the only rule is that we can’t use our hands, but we can use anything else?” I ask, looking toward Tate for confirmation.

“Correct,” he says with a nod. “You each have to do it once, which might take multiple tries.”

I look at the tub of whipped cream. There’s no way to feed Vale easily without my hands. I turn to Vale. “Do you have any good ideas, or should we accept that this will be totally awkward?”

“I’ve got nothing,” he says. “First lesson in marriage: Don’t let a bunch of bachelors plan your wedding shower.” His mouth curves into a smile.

Vale’s third rule is going to bite us in the butt.Do whatever it takes.

I study the spoon as the guys make less than helpful suggestions on how to feed Vale without my hands—including suggesting our lips, tongue, ears (seriously?), and elbows.

Nobody sees what’s right in front of us—a spoon. “What if I grab the spoon with my mouth, scoop some whipped cream, and then hold it steady for you to take a bite?” I suggest.

Rourke points at us. “You’re conspiring. That deserves a penalty.”

“Nobody said we couldn’t plan our method of attack,” Vale grumbles.

“No penalty,” Tate agrees. “You can talk through it.”

Vale looks at me. “It’s worth a try.”

I crouch low, grabbing the spoon with my teeth, and then clumsily tilt my head to scoop whipped cream from the tub. At one point, the tub almost slides off the table, but Vale uses his hip to keep it in place.

My idea is still awkward, putting me within inches of Vale’s mouth.Kissing distance.But without using any part of my lips, this is the only way to avoid direct contact.

“That’s cheating,” Jaxon says.

“You should have set up more rules,” Tate says, taking our side.

His body almost presses against mine. It’s not that this should be awkward for a married couple, but considering we haven’t even kissed—other than the awkward kiss in the Little Pink Chapel—it feels like forced contact.

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