Page 23 of The One Night Match
“The nickname can stay, I suppose.” Riley’s irritated huff only drags my lips further up my cheeks.
This whole marriage thing is going to be a whole lot more fun than I thought.
Once the dress gives enough that it starts to slip down, Riley wraps her arms around her chest and looks over her shoulder. “Do you mind?”
“Not at all.” I smirk and drop onto the velvet couch a few feet from where her reception dress hangs. I cross my ankle over my knee and stretch my arms across the back, making myself comfortable.
“You’re insufferable.”
I chuckle, telling her once and for all I’m not going anywhere.
Riley mutters something under her breath as she allows the dress to pool around her ankles. Well, knees actually, because there’s so much of it, but I’m too distracted by the way the white lingerie clings to her body, the delicate lace wrapped so perfectly around her curves that I just about swallow my tongue.
I thought she was fucking beautiful in the dark club, but nothing could prepare me for seeing her in the light of day.
She pays me no mind as she carefully climbs out of the marshmallow dress and reaches for the thin straps of the one hanging in front of her.
With practiced ease, she steps into the satin number before flicking a look over her shoulder at me. “Seeing as you insisted on staying, can you zip me?”
“Do I have to?” I ask, my voice betraying how fucking turned on I am just from watching her change.
Her eyes flick down to the obvious bulge in my pants, and she smirks.
I shove myself to my feet, give my cock a quick squeeze to settle him the fuck down, and then cross the distance between us.
My huge, tattooed fingers struggle to get a hold of the delicate zipper, but Riley doesn’t rush me as she pretends my proximity doesn’t affect her the same way hers does me.
That’s okay. I don’t need her to admit it just yet. Making her fall for me is going to be way more fun anyway.
ELEVEN
RILEY
I’m still reeling from everything that’s happened since my veil lifted and I found my one-night stand staring down at me.
I haven’t totally ruled out the idea that he knew who I was when we met at the bar. It would make sense that he’d want to make sure I wasn’t a total asshole before tying himself to me for at least ninety days.
What I didn’t expect was how adamant he would be not to let me walk away at the end of the trial period.
I may not know much about the man, but what I do know is that he enjoys…variety in his life. He made quite the name for himself sleeping with half the Mafia princesses in the country when he was in his late teens and a bunch of models in his early twenties.
There haven’t been many conquests recently that I’ve heard about, but that doesn’t mean they don’t exist.
I have no interest in being married to someone who will cheat on me.
My other hard no would be if he was going to try to control me, but I’m not getting that vibe from him so far. If anything, he’s a bit of a golden retriever.
He hasn’t let go of my hand since we left the dressing room, and I’m trying not to think about how good it feels to have my hand nestled in his much larger one.
We pause when the wedding coordinator holds her hand up, saying something into her phone as she looks down at her clipboard.
Cruz turns to me, his fingers grasping my chin and forcing me to look up at him. “When we go in there, I’ll be different. I have to be. The version of me you’ve seen since we left the church? That’s reserved for you and for my mom and sister. Tell me you understand?”
His dark eyes are pleading for me to understand, and as much as I hate to admit it, I do.
It was the same with Dad. He was always a doting father and husband when he was home, but when we attended events with him, he was short with us, uncaring almost.
It took me years to understand that it was a way for him to keep us safe.
