Page 50 of Tangled Vows

“Okay.” I released the word on a breath, but didn’t relax until he shut himself inside the bathroom. I’d already brushed my teeth and changed for bed, so I slipped beneath the covers and put my back to the bathroom.

He emerged ten minutes later, but I didn’t move a muscle. His heavenly scent seeped into the room with the steam from his shower, and I pinched my eyes closed as it curled around me. At least his sheets were clean and only smelled of detergent. I suspected it wouldn’t last, though, since these were freshly laundered.

The bed dipped behind me, and I held my breath. I wasn’t sure what I expected him to do, but the possibilities had me on edge. There was some rustling and the sound of him plugging in his phone before he finally settled, and silence fell upon us.

“Goodnight, Shayla,” he said finally.

“Goodnight, Easton,” I replied. Within minutes, Easton’s breathing slowed, and he let out a soft snore every now and then.I was wound way too tight to fall asleep for a long time. But when I did, I dreamed of things I could never have.

Something tickled my nose,and I batted it away, but it came right back. I pressed my hand to the warm, hard surface pinning down whatever was itching my face. A low groan rumbled beneath the surface and a familiar scent wafted around me. My eyes popped open, and I bit my lip to suppress a shriek.

I lay with my face pressed against Easton’s chest, his arm wrapped around my waist, and our legs tangled beneath the sheets. A light smattering of chest hair brushed against my cheek and nose. That was what had been tickling my nose.

Moving slowly so I didn’t disturb him, I began to roll away, but his arm tightened around me. He buried his nose in my hair and inhaled before letting out a contented sigh.

This was soooo bad. I wasn’t sure how I would extricate myself from his hold without waking him. And I definitely didn’t want to wake him. I didn’t want him to see that despite my insistence on maintaining a platonic relationship, I’d ended up wrapped around him.

On his side of the bed.

It was clear who initiated this cuddle session considering the feet of empty space behind me. Easton was so close to the edge, it looked like he’d held me at bay as long as he could before I completely invaded his space. It was kind of pathetic and decidedly mortifying.

Again, I attempted to remove myself from his embrace. To my horror, Easton’s eyes fluttered open, and he grinned down at me sleepily.

“Well, this is unexpected.” His gravelly voice raked over my frayed nerves and sent a pulse of arousal between my thighs. I squirmed, and he smirked. Cocky bastard.

“Don’t get used to it,” I breathed and pushed against his chest. His hold on me loosened, and I scooted to my side of the bed. I instantly missed his warmth when the cool sheets slid against my skin.

“Who knew my little hellcat was a cuddler?” The teasing lilt to his voice set me on edge. It was the type of comment that could either be flirtatious or antagonizing. I assumed it was the latter.

“I’m not,” I replied, returning his smirk. “I was cold and desperate. It’s practically arctic in here, and my survival instincts kicked in.” It was true. He kept it rather cool in his room. Even bundled in a hoodie and sweatpants with his heavy duvet covering me, I was still chilled. One of the many lovely side-effects of my having a thyroid that didn’t function properly. He let out a soft chuckle, and his eyes danced with mirth.

“In that case, I’ll be sure to crank down the temp so you have to rely on me to keep warm.” He winked and threw off the covers, revealing several feet of golden skin and expertly hewn muscles. My mouth went dry, and I tried to swallow as he sat on the side of the bed and stretched. His sculpted back was a sight to behold. He wore only boxer briefs to bed, a fact I'd missed last night as I lay here trying to avoid looking at him. He stood and sauntered off to the bathroom, his rock-hard ass clad in a stretchy fabric that did little to hide the shape of his well defined glutes. I forced myself to look away lest he turn around and catch me ogling him. And that was something I couldn’t let my fake husband see.

38

SHAYLA

Our first family Thanksgiving went off without a hitch. Easton and I hosted everyone at our house. My mom and sister joined us, and our families meshed quite beautifully as though Easton and I had been together for years instead of months. Easton and Makenna had only met once—aside from our run in at the grocery store—shortly after we’d gotten married, but they hit it off immediately. Makenna could be shy at times, but she took to Easton immediately. That meant she felt safe with him. And I realized, I did too. Maybe not with my heart, but I had the feeling he would always protect me. That was what he did. He was a protector. You could see it in the way he cared for his family, in the way he cared for my family.

Our family.

We were now united as one. What was his was mine and mine, his. At least, for the time being.

With full bellies and several containers of leftovers, we bid my mom and sister goodbye. I would see them in the morning for Mom’s chemo appointment, but still, I hugged them extra tight and for longer than usual.

“I’m so happy for you,” my mom said, a serene smile spreading over her lips.

“Thank you,” I replied, trying to keep the tremble out of my voice.

“Shayston, the hockey world’s new power couple,” Makenna teased, a playful glint in her eyes.

“Shayston?” I quirked a brow, silently asking her to elaborate.

“That’s what they’re calling you online.” I gave her a quizzical look, and she rolled her eyes, the quintessential sign of teenage irritation. “You know, like Bennifer, Brangelina, Kimye,” she offered, and I shook my head with a chuckle. It wasn’t lost on me that none of those couples were still together. By this time next year, Easton and I would likely join their ranks, and that thought quickly sobered me. I swallowed down the lump that formed in my throat before forcing a smile.

“You need to stay off the celebrity gossip sites. It’ll rot your brain.” That earned me another eye roll. Makenna was the last person who would peruse those sites. She didn’t care about celebrities unless it was the latest chess world champion. But as an eighteen-year-old college student, she was still immersed in pop culture, whether she wanted to be or not.

We said our goodbyes, and I returned to the kitchen to find Easton and Roni already cleaning. David and Max were setting up a game of Monopoly at the breakfast nook. I went to the sink to start on the dishes, but both siblings shooed me away.

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