Page 38 of Dirty Like Us

“We aren’t sleepingtogether?”

The words came spilling out of my mouth before I could think themthrough.

Zane’s eyes twitched like he might smile, but then hedidn’t.

“I’m gonna go wash up. Take whichever bed you want and I’ll take the other one.Cool?”

I stared at him, totallyspeechless.

No.

Notcool.

Maybe he was ready to call it a night—why??—but I’d spent the better part of the last four hours, pretty much from the second we said “I do” and he kissed me like he was devouring a bottle of particularly expensive bourbon, mentally preparing myself to spend the rest of the night, from the moment we walked back in here, fending himoff.

Well, that, or fucking his brains out. If I was being honest. Hadn’t quite decided which way things were gonna go yet. Blamed the champagne for that.Definitely.

But this? This wasbullshit.

I watched him stroll up the stairs, through the master bedroom to the en suite bathroom, turn up the lights, and disappear inside. He closed the door behind himself. Not all the way, but still. A civilized person knew what a closed bathroom doormeant.

But fuckthat.

I heard the water running in the sink as I approached, and tossed the door open to find him brushing his teeth. I stalked over and turned off thefaucet.

“This is my wedding night,” I told him icily. “You have to at leasttryto bang me, so I can turn youdown.”

He pointed at the sink, which I was standing in front of. Never mind that there was another one two feetover.

I crossed my arms, staring himdown.

He pulled the toothbrush out of his mouth. “May I shpit?” he asked, his mouth full of toothpastefoam.

“Fine.” I shoved away from the sink to let him at it. Then I grumbled, “Like you didn’t do enough of that already tonight,” as he spat andrinsed.

“And like I told you,” he said, eying me as he dabbed his mouth with a towel. “I don’t fuck chicks who’ve beendrinking.”

“I’m not evendrunk!”

He gave me a level look. “Babe.”

“I’m not!” Pretty sure I was. Didn’t keep me from protesting the fact. Hard. “Look, I’ll brush my teeth. You won’t taste a thing.” With that, I seized his toothbrush and brushed myteeth.

He stood back,watching.

“See?” I spat in the sink and rinsed, then gave him a winning smile. “Mintyfresh.”

“You used my toothbrush,” he said, eying me with mock concern. “You know that has cooties on it,right?”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m yourwife,” I shot back as sarcastically as possible. “I can’t use yourtoothbrush?”

I strutted back out into the bedroom, still trying to prove my case. Zane followed at a distance. I wasn’t sure why it was so important to me that I prove I wasn’t wasted. In the bar it really hadn’t seemed like a big deal, especially when he kept feeding medrinks.

Now it feltwrong.

“What do you want me to do? Walk a straight line? Touch my finger to my nose?” I did that, and thank God I actually hit the target. “What if I sing ‘Schoolgirl’? Bet I can remember all thewords.”

Then I started singing my dad’s shitty song. Not terribly, either. I could hold a tune. Couldn’t hold a candle to Zane’s voice, but at least I wouldn’t totally embarrass myself. The booze loosened me up, so I figured I sounded even better than usual. Though my judgment was probably impaired onthat.

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