Page 97 of Be My Bride

“Mm-mm.” He pulls me into a deeper hug and rests his head on mine. His musky fragrance—a mixture of sweat, body wash and me—fills my nostrils. “But I like it.”

“What?”

“Cuddling.”

I laugh. “You’re insane.”

His smile curves against my hair. “And you’re still tense. You're still worrying?”

“It’s a habit.”

“From?”

“Years of living with two parents who were too busy getting back at each other to remember I had a dental appointment on Tuesday and a dance recital on Friday.”

“That must have been hard for you.”

“It is what it is. Knowing why I am the way I am doesn’t necessarily change anything—which is contrary to what my family therapist said when my parents dragged me there every evening after the divorce.”

He chuckles. “You poor thing.”

“Don't make fun. I still have nightmares about that place.”

“Did they at least help?”

“A little.” I nuzzle my nose against his chest. “I understand myself a little better because of it. I need to be in control. I need everything in order to feel at peace.”

“And you’re not in control right now,” he says thoughtfully.

“We have too many plates spinning in the air.”

“Let them spin.”

I groan. “Hansley.”

“Let them crash if they have to. I promise,” he eases back and looks down at me, “the world won’t burn if you let a few things slide and enjoy yourself.”

“Says the playboy billionaire who can afford to fool around.”

“Is that what we’re doing?”

“You tell me.”

His chest vibrates on a chuckle. “Let it go, Asia.”

My phone buzzes.

I try to sit up.

He pulls me back down.

“What if it’s Kayla or Venus?” I ask breathlessly.

“They can wait.”

“What if it’s Tierra or Ina?”

He brushes a kiss against my neck. “Them too.”

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