Page 43 of Something Tangled Something True
“You're right, we should. You mind if I keep my shirt off? I'm feeling pretty… hot.”
I gulp down a lungful of air.I am not God's strongest soldier.
“You should probably?—”
“Does my good little wife not want anyone else to see what's hers?” he asks, and my eyes dart to his, brows climbing my forehead.
Shit. I played right into that.
I take a gulp of water, stalling. “I just think it's… inappropriate. You know, small towns talk and all that.”
This time, a deep chuckle fills his chest, and my blood hums again.
“Noted, darlin’,” he says, bringing his mouth impossibly close to my ear without actually touching me. “But I can’t make any promises when you look at me like that, eyes all glazed with nipples that could cut glass.” He looks down at the offending body parts, and my face flames.
I smack his chest. “None of that,” I scold.
“Right. ‘Boundaries’,” he says with a chuckle, taking a step away from me, hands up in surrender.
We head out to the parking lot with his hand on the base of my spine, his impressive body now covered by the shirt he was wearing earlier. Several women stop to tell me how lucky I am to have a man like Ryder who isn’t afraid to make a fool of himself for his woman. Though “fool” is not a word I’d ever use to describe Ryder.
Like the gentleman he is, Ryder runs ahead to grab my door handle, just in time to open it for me. I roll my eyes at him, hoisting myself inside as he makes his way around to his door.
He cues up the music but turns the volume down.
We head home, and he raps his knuckles against the steering wheel, an anxious habit I’ve seen him do our whole childhood.
I reach out, pressing my hand gently on his to still the motion. His eyes flit to mine before fixing on the road. “What’s on your mind?”
He flips our hands, placing them on the seat between us and rubbing soothing circles on my wrist with the pad of his thumb.
“Was that too much, darlin’?” His words sound so small and unsure, and it tugs on the strings of my heart.
“Not at all, Ry. The class was incredible. It was so much fun getting to dance in a class setting, and…” I trail off, not sure if I should actually speak the next words.
“And?”
I let out a huff of air before finishing. “Andthat last part was—” I clear my throat. “It was really fucking hot,” I finally say, the words coming out in a rush.
A deep rumble leaves his chest, and his thumb clamps down on my pulse point. “You’re not allowed to say things like that,” he scolds, shaking his head but keeping his eyes trained ahead.
“I guess it’s a good thing we don’t share a bed,” I joke, trying to lighten the mood.
“You can say that again,” he agrees, his voice deadly quiet. It sends another thrill of need racing through me before I can stop it, but thankfully, we’re almost halfway home.
“Wanna order in for dinner and watch TV? I’m kind of beat after that class,” he tells me when we get inside.
I release a little sigh of appreciation. “That sounds amazing. Pizza good?”
“Hell yes,” he says, sounding excited at the prospect of carbs and cheese. Who doesn’t love carbs and cheese? “I’ll place an order. Go wash your smelly ass,” he jokes, setting our water bottles on the kitchen counter.
After I’ve showered and slipped into a pair of worn-out sweats and another one of Ryder’s shirts I’d stolen doing laundry, I curl up on the couch and check my texts.
My Wifey For Lifey
How’d dance class go?
You won’t believe me when I tell you…
