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He shifted away, removing his hand, and looked down into large brown eyes, staring up at him, wide with shock.
Merritt abruptly scrambled to her side of the bed. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Me?” He lazily sat up and stared at her. “This was all you, darling.”
“As if I would ever—”
“I’m pretty sure those were your hands and lips all over me.” He did his best to antagonize her, liking the blush on her cheeks and the fact that she was the one who did this. “Trying to take advantage of me in my sleep, wifey?”
She looked flustered. “I didn’t … I never … oh, shut up.”
“That’s all you’ve got? Shut up?” He couldn’t stop himself from grinning.
She bolted off the bed. Her hair was sticking up in every direction, her sleep shorts riding down on her hip, tank top strap falling off her right shoulder. She looked sexier than he’d ever seen her, like they had spent the night together for real.
“Stop looking at me like that!” she cried.
He turned his eyes down at the bed, feeling guilty for his perusal and for his body’s traitorous reaction.
“You’re sleeping on the floor tonight,” she snapped.
“Fine,” he snapped back.
“Fine!” She disappeared into the bathroom and turned on the shower.
He flopped onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, remembering her soft lips against his skin. He squeezed his eyes closed, trying to block out the thought of her, but other moments came back to him. Talking, laughing, racing each other across the pool, curled up on the couch watching movies, making truffles together. The adorable look of jealousy on her face over Rhonda. Her body pressed against his last night. The fake kiss they’d shared for the paparazzi.
He grabbed his phone from the nightstand and opened his camera roll. He knew he probably shouldn’t have, but he had saved a shot of their kiss from one of the tabloid websites to remember how real it had felt between them. He wanted to kiss her again. So badly. He’d wanted to kiss her last night and never stop. But he couldn’t.
He rolled over and buried his head in his pillow and groaned. He was attracted to his wife. There shouldn’t be anything wrong with that. But there was. Because of their friendship. Because of their agreement. This wasn’t a real marriage. And it had an expiration date.
Gus was seated at the breakfast table, sipping coffee with the family when Merritt joined them. Her hair was done, makeup on, ready for the day. He much preferred the way she had looked fresh out of bed that morning, but he pushed those thoughts aside.
“Good morning, wifey.”
“Morning.” She went to the coffee pot and helped herself to a mug, glancing at him over her shoulder. She didn’t join them at the table right away, instead leaning her hip against the counter, listening to talk of the day’s plans, which included decorating the horse barn for the wedding.
“You could’ve had a coordinator and team flown in to put everything together,” Skylar told Genevieve.
“I know, but I wanted to hire someone local.” Her hair was separated into two braids on either side of her head, which made her look younger than her age, and she twisted the end of one around her finger as she spoke. “She has a small crew, but we’ll need some hands to help with moving tables and chairs and things like that so the schedule stays on track.”
“We’ll get it done, babe,” Sebastian said.
“Adelia will be here soon,” Gus interjected. “She can help.”
Skylar and Sebastian started laughing.
“I can’t really see Adelia cleaning a barn,” Skylar said.
“Adelia is a fabulous decorator,” Merritt told them. “Her parties are always lovely, and she does most of the decorating herself.”
“I agree,” Gus said. “And it’s not like she’ll be mucking the stalls.”
Sebastian and his bride exchanged glances.
Gus’s eyes widened. “We have to muck stalls?”
“Someone has to do it.” Sebastian shrugged.