Page 73 of Irresistibly Wicked

“What? You’ve got to admit, it was a hell of a kiss.”

“So?”

Time to test the waters. “So maybe we should try it again. See if it really was that good.”

She stared at him for a beat, heat and hesitation warring in her eyes, but in her next breath she said, “That’s not what this is.”

“I know it’s not. I’m just trying to be a good husband, leaving the door open. I’d hate for you to be fantasizing all night about kissing me again and then leave you hanging. And hey, if lips are too intimate, I’m happy to let you kiss me elsewhere.”

“Ohmygod.” She laughed. “Would you stop? I feel like everyone’s watching us.”

“That’s just me, darlin’. I can’t take my eyes off you.” Apparently I can’t shut my fucking mouth, either.

“I’m serious, Zan,” she said quietly.

He casually glanced around. Damn. His parents and a handful of others were watching them. His father arched a brow, as if to say, You’re not looking at her like that, huh?

That doused the flames.

Time to rein it in, asshole. She’s right. That’s not what this is.

“Want to get out of here before it gets any weirder?” he asked.

“Yes.”

THE RIDE HOME was quiet, save for the sexual tension humming between them. Zander tried to focus on the road, telling himself to get a grip before things went further. The last thing either of them needed was more complications.

He helped her out of the truck, and in an effort to get them back on track, he slung an arm over her shoulder as they headed up the walk, falling back to the comfort and familiarity of friendship and joking around, the way things were before that kiss. “So, what’re you going to call me? Your old man? Your hubby? Your ride or die?”

“I was thinking…Zander.”

“Everyone calls me that. You’ll come up with something special. Remember, we’ve got to convince everyone you couldn’t live without me.” He unlocked the door and threw it open. She started to walk past, and he lifted her into his arms.

“Zander!” She laughed, which was exactly the reaction he’d hoped for. “What are you doing?”

“Carrying my bride over the threshold,” he said as he carried her inside.

“You know this isn’t legally required, right?”

He kicked the door closed behind him. “Yeah, but it gave me a reason to have you in my arms again.”

As he lowered her feet to the floor, her hands slid down his chest. She was right there, those beautiful brown eyes gazing up at him so intensely, the air crackled around them, but it wasn’t his body aching to be heard this time. It was that organ in his chest that had gone unnoticed for so long speaking too loudly to ignore. He put his hand over hers, keeping it on his chest, wanting to be sure she heard what he said next. “All kidding aside, thank you for trusting me. I’ll try my best to be the kind of husband you deserve.”

“You don’t—”

He put two fingers over her lips, shushing her. “I want to. Let’s leave it at that.”

She reached up to move his fingers away from her lips but kept hold of his hand and ran her thumb over the barbed wire tattoo on his middle finger. Her brows knitted, and she studied the tattoo closer. The tangled barbed wire ran from the tip of his finger to his knuckle. In between the tangles, along the inside of his finger, was the musical abbreviation sfz.

Her eyes flicked up to his. “When did you get that?”

“When I was eighteen. Why?”

She looked at it again, her brow riddled with confusion.

“What’s the matter?”

“My middle name is Zoe,” she said just above a whisper, as if they were the only two people in the world who should hear it.