Page 152 of From Best Friend to Bride
Her hand was dangerously close to my erection, and I grabbed her wrist before it could travel any further.
She squeaked against my back. “What are you—”
“Don’t move.” I clenched my jaw.
Her body momentarily tensed. “Ohhhh.”
Oh?
That was all she had to say?
“Fred?” she whispered, pressing her forehead into my back. “Why don’t you just… let me take care of it for you?”
I squeezed my eyes shut.
Fuck.
She was going to kill me.
I wanted to. If she only knew just how badly I wanted to let her take care of my little problem, she’d probably run a mile.
“Delilah, you’re drunk.” My voice was tight and gravelly. “Go to sleep.”
“But I—”
“Roll over.” I overpowered her feeble attempt at fighting me, rolled us both onto our other sides, and pulled her back against me. “Keep your hands where I can see them.”
She linked her fingers together and popped her hands out of the quilt. “Like that?”
“Just like that,” I said, edging my hips away from hers.
“But I—”
“You’re drunk,” I repeated. “Keep your hands where I can see them before you do something you’ll regret in the morning.”
“I won’t regret it,” she murmured, turning her face into the pillow.
“We’ll discuss this when you’re sober.” I kissed the back of her head, breathing in the sweet scent of her shampoo. “Go to sleep, baby.”
“You rejected me.” She sniffled. “Don’t call me that. Meanie.”
I let my eyes flutter shut and smiled into her hair, despite the soft pang my heart took at her words. “Okay, okay. Sleep now, my pretty wife.”
31
DELILAH
Iwas so screwed.
There was a reason I rarely drank alcohol. To excess even less frequently. It was because I became a clingy blabbermouth with no self-control.
Exactly like last night.
And I owed Fred ahugeapology.
Not only for the whole clingy blabbermouth thing, but also for the other idiotic things I’d done. Like bumbling about and falling into him. Practicing my ‘royal wave’ while bragging about my husband. Talking about him right to his face.
Begging him to stay with me.
