Page 69 of Wild Side
“Yes. As your wife, I refuse to let you turn in a shitty mouth-running video.”
“It’s a promo,” I correct petulantly.
“Whatever. As Mrs. Wild Side, I demand they only portray you in the best light possible. Literally and figuratively.”
Her fingers curl in a hand-it-over motion. My brows furrow, and I don’t know why I feel shy. I’ve taken my fair share of acting classes. I film these in front of people all the time.
But Tabitha isn’t just people.
“Chop, chop, big man.” She taps at her bare wrist impatiently. “We’re child-free, and I’ve got a girls’ night to get to.”
With unfamiliar butterflies in my stomach, I approach the spot with the wordswe’re child-freeswirling in my head. It’s how she saidwe.The familial term slipped from her tongue so naturally.
I have never been part of awe.
That’s why I hand her my phone.
She holds it up, examining it with a speculative gaze. “Okay, you know what you’re going to say? I don’t want my arm to shake. I already fucked up one take.”
It’s funny. I’ve spent all these years hiding what I do, avoiding conversations about it, feeling wounded when people have something to say about it.Oh, it’s so fake. Steroids aren’t good for you. That’s trash TV.And here I am, married to a woman who is—I don’t even know. Invested? Supportive? Even excited?
I’m not sure what to make of it.
But I like it.
“Hello?” She waves. “Earth to Rhys? Put that mask on. Let’s go. It’s time to shit talk Little Willy.” Her lips clamp together, but she doesn’t let the laugh out. She just looks…happy.
I hesitate to put my mask on. I’ve only worn it in front of work people. Doing it here, in a quiet basement with Tabitha, feels fucking weird.
But I can’t deny her shit. So with an irritated eye roll, I pull the mask over my face, securing the straps over the back of my head so it stays in place. Then I force myself to look her in the eye. I expect to see a tinge of mockery in her gaze, but I don’t. Her dark eyes are sparkling like the lake at night as her tongue darts out over her plump pink lips in concentration.
“You’ve got…” She trails off, and I quirk my head in question. Her finger points up toward my head. “You’ve got—you know what?Here.”
She steps forward, and the scent of her citrusy perfume hits me as she pulls in close. It suits her perfectly. It stops me in my tracks.
Her arm lifts, and her fingers slide into my hair. Gentle and a touch tentative. And fuck if my heart rate doesn’t ratchet straight up.
“Is this okay?” she whispers, gaze moving back down to meet mine. “You had hair sticking out. Hard to look like a badass with messy hair.”
All I can do is nod.
And think about kissing her.
And I don’t mean the polite, nothing kisses we exchange in public for appearances’ sake. Or the ones I pretend are just for show.
Because there’s nothing polite about the things I want to do to Tabitha Garrison. Even just knowing she’s walking around with my ring on her finger makes me hard.
Soon her fingers flatten and smooth my hair. “There.” Her head tilts as if inspecting her handiwork. “That’s better.”
It’s just cool enough that I can feel the warm dampness of her breath against the side of my neck. She’s too fucking close.
Her eyes drop to my mouth. And god, I want to do it. I want to kiss her. But my fear of fucking it all up tugs me back. One step away and her magnetic pull lessens. A second step and I can breathe again.
With a firm dip of my chin, I grumble, “Okay, let’s do this.”
“Okay,” she replies breathlessly. I could swear her cheeks are more flushed than they were before, lips a little glossier. “Just say when.”
I get into position, close my eyes for a beat, and straighten up. When my lids open back up, I’m Wild Side. Tabitha counts down on her fingers and then points at me.
