Page 12 of On the Rocks
“Yeah. From the way he looks at you. Like you’re the only person in the room. Like you’re the only person in the whole freaking world.” So much confidence fills her voice. I’m almost hypnotized by her words. “Even Noah mentioned it. And for a man to notice, you know it has got to be totally obvious.”
I love the way her face lights up when she says her husband’s name. That she’s finally found the happiness she deserves too. “I like Noah.”
With a dreamy expression, she slowly nods. “Me too.”
“Well, I would hope so since you’re having his baby.”
Shiny eyes meet mine, and she pulls me against her again. The happiest tears we’ve ever shed together.
* * *
Itossmy keys on the table and shove the door shut behind me. Only fifteen minutes to shower and get my tux on. Wasted too much damn time fighting with McAdams. Resisting all his bullshit arguments. Whether he likes it or not, I’m out. These are my last contracts with him. He can find someone else to help him screw over the government. Too many greedy assholes who want in on the action. When all I want is Trinity.
My quick pace halts when she appears at the top of the stairs. As if perched on a pedestal, where she perfectly belongs. More beautiful than a fucking model.
“What do you think?”
A shaking hand brushes over her hip as she glances down. Smoothing invisible wrinkles before meeting my gaze again. With her hesitant voice and nervous demeanor, somehow I get the vibe that she asks about more than just the dress. Questioning everything that’s led us to this moment. If the celebration tonight is as genuine to me as it is to her.
I take the ten steps slowly. Drinking her in. Not missing a single detail of her softly tamed hair. The fancy twist in the back unable to corral a few wayward curls framing her face. Slight smile that could easily falter with the wrong word. Iridescent fabric floating above her gorgeous curves. The hint of smooth thigh where the fabric slits. High heels still not enough to bring us to eye level with each other.
At the top, I slide her delicate fingers in mine and hold our coupled hands to my chest. Unable to trust myself not to do anything else. She has to know, must believe, that I meant every word of my vows. That I’ll never break or bend the commitment I’ve made to her. To us. “I’m humbled that a woman as amazing as you is my wife.”
Her glorious body strains toward me. Leaning closer, seemingly of its own accord, to accept the genuine emotion I hope I convey with my words and my touch. “You take my breath away sunshine. You’re fucking magnificent.”
Timidity flares from my boldness, and her head tilts down. “I spent too much.”
Like I give a damn. “You’re totally worth it.”
“We ? I got carried away. I’m sorry.”
Tension stiffens her body, and she attempts to tug her hand out of mine. Panic pulses in her voice. Suddenly flustered but I don’t understand why.
“I’ll pay you back. I promise. Every week when I get paid I’ll give you a little bit until it’s all?”
What the fucking hell? “Trinity, stop. I don’t give a fuck about the money.”
“I was drinking, and I guess I got a little tipsy from the champagne."
Even with my gut throbbing from her anxiety, my traitorous cock perks up from that divulgence. I knew I should have gone shopping with her. "Then I wish I was there to take advantage of you."
No laugh or smile from my teasing. Worry, instead of humor, still floods her drawn face. “We were gone all afternoon.”
Her gaze flits around the loft. Guilty, like there was some shit she needed to do here. That’s what I pay my housekeeper for. “So what?”
“I just…”
Unwilling to look at me, she stares down at the hardwood. Almost cowering, like a cornered animal, with my hands gripping her taut arms. What the fuck does this gorgeous woman have to be so damn insecure about?
I’m so fucking confused from all of these needless confessions for indiscretions that don’t mean shit. Until the realization hits me. Like a fucking bat to the back of my god damn head. Before we stand in front of my family and our friends, presented as a happy husband and wife, we have to be real. We have to mean it. We have to last.
So she has to make sure I won’t get angry. She won’t be in trouble. She won’t be punished. She won’t get kicked out.
Fuck that shit. I slide my finger under her chin, as gentle as I can with the agony speeding through my veins from her self-torture, and lift her sweet face to mine. “I don’t give a fuck if you spend money or hang out with your friend or get falling down drunk all damn day.”
A stuttered breath blows against my palm. Hopefully, she fucking hears and understands my meaning. “There’s nothing you can ever say or do to make me upset.” I stroke her cheek, holding her in place with a firm grip. “Except leave me.”
“Never.”
