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“What’s wrong with boxers?” I ask curiously, clutching my clothes to my chest. “Don’t tell me you have a bill coming up for textiles, too.”
“No.” He shakes his head, a small smile threatening to appear. “I just prefer boxer briefs. No political agenda items surrounding clothing in the near future.” His answer leaves me unsatisfied; I enjoyed our banter from the reception.
I rush to the bathroom and set down my clothes, then take out the remaining pins from my hair. Realizing I’ve forgotten my skincare items, I step back into the bedroom to retrieve them, only to find Alex wearing black boxer briefs and taking off his white form-fitting undershirt. I manage to catch a glimpse of his toned abs as he lifts it, the muscle definition trailing from the top of his hip, dipping lower beneath his?—
“Like what you see, princess?” Alex pulls his shirt back down.
I avert my eyes and yelp, “Sorry! I was getting my makeup case. I didn’t know you were changing.”
I peek through my fingers, as he takes out a tee from the suitcase. “It’s too warm for the joggers he packed. So, if I’m only wearing underwear, we’renotsleeping in the same bed.”
“It’s one night. It’ll be fine,” I scoff, pulling my hand down and turning my body away from him. “I’ll put a pillow between us.”
I sense him approaching, making a shiver run down my limbs in anticipation. “Do you really think that’s the best idea?” The timbre of his voice is low and sultry.
Probably not...
For years, Chris has been unfaithful, but that doesn’t mean I have a green light to do the same; two wrongs don’t make a right. Confidence sets in as I remind myself that Alex is a gentleman and he’d never try anything.
I shut my eyes tight. “No, I just don’t want us to get caught in this lie. We need it to look like we’re happy newlyweds.”
“And if you wake up in my arms tomorrow morning?” I turn to face him, and he tilts my chin up. When I open my eyes, there’s no trace of humor on his face. My cheeks are hot, and a blush creeps from my neck and chest.
“I won’t.”
Leaning in, his cheek grazes mine, his admission coming out as a purr, “What if I want you to?”
So much for him being a gentleman…
Chapter 9
Chris
“He’s awake,” a woman calls as my eyes flutter open.
As my vision adjusts, a man’s face comes into view. The noise is overwhelming—people talking over one another, the same beeping sound from before, and the shuffling of who the fuck knows what. The man flashes a light into my eyes, adding to my overstimulation.
“What happened?” I manage. My throat is on fire. I grip the front of my neck, and a nurse approaches with a cup of water with a straw, placing the tip of it in my mouth like I’m a damn child.
“You had another cardiac episode, Mr. Blake,” the man in a white coat replies. “It wasn’t a full heart attack, but you lost consciousness. Can you tell me what year it is?”
“2023.”
“Good, do you know what day it is?”
“Friday, I’m…Fuck!I’m supposed to be getting married.” In an instant, I’m flooded with memories of the accident on the way to the venue.
My heart racing. Airbags deploying and everything going black.
“Where’s my aide, Cara?”
“I think it’s best if you discuss it with your father. He’s right outside. I’ll bring him in once the nurses check your vitals.”
A woman in pink scrubs approaches, takes my temperature, and tests my oxygen levels and blood pressure. When it all checks out, my father enters the room with a member of his secret service, and everyone files out. The man in all black scans the room and nods to my father before leaving us alone.
“Christopher,” he says flatly, a slight gruffness in his tone. “How are you feeling?”
“Where’s Cara?”
