Page 157 of Sour Notes

No performance. No pretending.

This moment wasn’t for show.

It was real. It was ours.

34

MIA

Applying the finishing touches to my makeup in the mirror, my eyes automatically stray to Swayze. He’s sitting behind me on the edge of the bed, legs splayed in that universal manspread way, silver rings catching the sunlight while he fiddles with his sleeve.

He’s all set for the wedding, dressed in a white linen shirt pulled taut over his broad chest, a cream waistcoat, and matching trousers stretched over his big thighs. His hair is slicked back which is a new look for him, and I’m not mad at it. He looks freakin’ gorgeous.

How is he mine?

My eyes lock with his heavy-lidded stare in the mirror. Smirking, he strokes his lip with his thumb.

“Like what you see, Angel?”

That’s putting it mildly.

“Shirt giving you some trouble, Patrol Puppy?”

“Oh? It’s like that, is it?”

His eyes track my every move as I approach him, standing between his thighs to fix his cufflinks. As soon as I’m done, he palms my hips, running his hands up and down the silky material of the dress.

“You look fucking phenomenal, Mia. You’re gonna steal the show today.” Heat floods my cheeks and emotion steals my breath from the sincere intensity in his gaze.

I’m not used to this. I went to one wedding with the toad for some work colleague he was trying to impress. He picked my dress, hated that I’d curled my hair into a messy updo, and had me undo it before we could leave the house. So of course, we arrived late, which he blamed me for.

We spent the entire night locked in a tense stalemate. When we got home, he chewed my ass out for embarrassing him by answering his colleagues’ questions about my job. I ended that night crying in the shower.

All night.

“Hey, you okay Angel?” Swayze’s hands tighten on my hips, icy eyes warm with concern.

Shaking the horrible memory from my brain, I swallow past the lump in my throat and smile. “Sorry, took a little trip down nightmare lane for a second. I’m good. Don’t worry.”

His brow furrows, concern now etched in the lines of his face. “Something I said?”

“God no, not at all. Quite the opposite, if anything. Thank you for everything, Wolfie.”

I lean down, cupping his face, and plant a soft kiss on his lips. I’m so grateful to have him here with me, rewriting my bad memories with all new amazing ones.

Stepping back, I turn to face the full-length mirror, sliding the hair comb into my hair which I’ve styled into Hollywood waves tumbling over one shoulder.

Swayze stands, palming my waist as he pulls me tight to his chest. We look good together, his cream suit perfectly complimenting my sage green silk dress.

He holds my gaze in the mirror before bringing his lips to my ear. “I am one lucky son of a bitch to have you on my arm.”

Butterflies go full throttle inside me as he plants a soft kiss on my shoulder, his stubble tickling my skin as his lips caress the bare length of my neck.

If I’m being honest, the butterflies haven’t stopped. Not since last night. We had sex—it feels wrong to call it that… but it sounds stupid saying we made love—but it was the most emotionally intense sex I’ve ever had. I passed out straight after and didn’t wake up until he was carrying me through our room to bed where he spooned me all night.

I’m not sure how I’ll be able to sleep when we get back home because we haven’t spent a night apart since we’ve gotten here. I’m not gonna lie, I kinda love it.

I’ve never had that before and I just assumed it was because I wasn’t a snuggler. Boy, have I proved that theory wrong. I’ve spent almost every night coiled around Swayze like a snake.