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“If you were worried about that, I mean.”
Her gaze flicks over my face, a smile finally creeping over her lips. “Thank you.”
I nod, holding a hand out to her again. “We need them to take our photo up ahead. You ready?”
“Mmm hmm.” She places her palm in mine, her skin incredibly soft.
What am I thinking? Of course her hand is soft. She’s a woman.
We walk toward the entrance, Serena nearly matching me in height in the heels she’s wearing. She’s tall to begin with, probably about five foot nine, and that combined with her slender build and delicate features gives her a willowy, nymph-like appearance.
Her grip on me tightens as we approach, the sudden flashing cameras temporarily blinding me. How in the hell did Gabriel do this all the time?
“Mr. Bishop,” one photographer calls out. Guess I’m recognized then. “Congrats on your nuptials. Can I get the two of you closer together?”
I wrap an arm around Serena’s waist and she curves herself into my side, a light floral scent teasing my nose.
“Are you wearing perfume?”
She brings her head in closer to my ear, murmuring, “Yes. Is it bothering you?”
“No, I- it’s fine.”
A tendril of her hair dances in the breeze, tickling my cheek before she brushes it away. “Sorry.”
I continue looking ahead, trying to focus on the camera and ignore how silky her dress is under my fingertips, the soft weight of her breast pressed against me, the peek of cleavage in my peripheral vision from my vantage point next to her.
I shouldn’t be noticing these things. We have an understanding. This is a business arrangement.
But that goddamn floral scent keeps getting in my nose, reminding me of something I can’t quite place…
“Be happy, Mr. Bishop,” the guy calls out again. “You’ve just married the most gorgeous woman in New York.”
I relax my mouth, clearing the frown that had stolen over it, and draw her tighter into my side, the soft sound she gives in response making my dick twitch.
Whoa. Where the hell did that come from?
“Give her a kiss,” the guy says, laughing. “You’re newlyweds.”
No. That wasn’t part of the deal. It already felt wrong doing it at the wedding when we’d never discussed if it was okay.
We haven’t gone over any ground rules, any stipulations. I can’t spring this-
She turns to me, her eyes trusting, and leans in, gently brushing her lips against mine. Her hand comes up to cradle my jaw as she deepens the kiss and moves even closer into me, her perfume weaving a spell around me, lulling me, unsure what’s happening right now. My dick twitches again as her kiss turns earnest, eager, enthusiastic, her palm moving to the back of my neck to cup it, her other hand tugging lightly at the lapel of my suit jacket.
And all I can do is stand there, dumbstruck, letting her kiss me here in front of these strangers, unable to move, to think.
She slowly breaks away, her gaze searching mine until her lips tip down at the corners briefly, so quick I almost miss it, and she steps back, heading toward the open doors.
“Have a good night, Mr. Bishop,” the photographer calls, already checking the pictures on his camera.
His words spur me into motion, striding to catch up with Serena, and I pull her aside as we enter the lobby, the hum of murmured conversation and clinking glasses just ahead.
She won’t look at me as I take hold of her elbow and steer her into a corner, her head cast down.
“Serena, I-”
“I’m sorry, okay?”