AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He clears sleep from one eye. ‘Yes, you did.’
‘You are oddly calm.’
His fingertips brush over his bruise. ‘Do you think so?’ The sheets dip below his waist.
When I manage to look up, his dark eyes bore into mine – one of which is nearly swollen shut and ringed with purple. I might not remember locking the door, but I suddenly remember grabbing his shirt front and pulling him to me for a hot and heavy kiss before tearing said shirt off. And I realize that though his stoic expression is firmly in place and his tone level, his eyes burn.
He is not calm.
‘Um… I think we’re married.’ I hold up my hand.
If this was happening to anyone else I’d find supreme satisfaction in the look of shock that comes over Thomas Moore’s perpetually austere countenance. It’s only for a moment, gone as soon as he lifts his own hand, frowning at the ring, but I saw it.
He pulls himself up to a seated position, the movement drawing my attention to his arms, his chest and then to the defined peaks and valleys of his six-pack that would give my romance novel cover models a run for their money.
I remember how hot and hard his body felt last night but I didn’t stop to think what all those flexing muscles meant – Thomas Moore works out.
Like, a lot.
Who would’ve thought that behind those expertly cut suits and cool demeanor lived a gym rat. It shouldn’t surprise me given that bespoke suits are cut close for a perfect fit, but this? You’d need to pump some serious iron to get the definition he’s sporting in his shoulders, arms, abs and that delicious V at the top of his waist—
‘I remember last night.’ He stares so hard at his ring I expect it to melt off his finger. ‘But not this.’
I run a hand through my hair, wiping away the beads of sweat as I do. Sweat that I’m telling myself is from my hangover and not the heat pouring off the extremely cut, half-naked man next to me, or my reaction to him.
My phone rings. I turn behind me to the nightstand. Bell’s photo lights up the phone screen.
During my hesitation to answer it, Thomas’s phone rings.
I blame fatigue for how hard I stare at his ass when he turns and bends over the side of the bed to retrieve his phone off the floor, totally forgetting to answer mine.
He pulls back and I feign interest in the ceiling.
‘Yes?’
I could practice my whole life and never sound as commanding as Thomas does on the phone even after being up all night drinking and waking up married.
‘Calm down.’
I bite my lip. It seems at forty-something years old Thomas hasn’t learned the universal lesson that telling someone to calm down doesn’t magically make the other person comply. In fact, in my experience – with Kayla – it does the opposite.
As predicted, the voice on the other end gets louder.
Thomas frowns harder, his black eye watering. ‘Are you done?’
In the silence that follows his stern, whip-cracking question, goosebumps spread down my arms.
Thomas flicks a tear off his cheek, hissing when his finger makes contact with his cheek. ‘I’ll be right there.’ When he lowers his phone, he sighs, the first sign of discontent he’s shown since waking.
Well, besides when I slapped him.
Giving me his attention once more, he levels me with one of his superior gazes, which looks ridiculous with his hair mussed, his morning beard and his naked stature. ‘What happened last night?’
I feel a nervous giggle rising in my chest and I fight it back down, drowning it under what’s left of the shots and drinks from last night. ‘I don’t know.’
The look he gives me makes me feel like a toddler caught telling tales and all my amusement dies. ‘I really don’t.’
‘Hmmm.’ He turns, lowering his feet to the floor and grabbing his clothes off the floor.
