Page 123 of Resisting Isaac

When he slides my ring on, his huge warm hands linger on mine.

“You good?” he murmurs, voice low so only I can hear.

I nod. “Little overwhelmed.”

He smiles. “Me too, spitfire. Since the day we met.”

We kiss because we’re supposed to.

It starts off gentle. A press of lips meant to seal a deal.

But something shifts between us when his tongue touches mine.

His hand curves around my body, the other around my jaw. My fingers clutch his lapel. And suddenly I forget where I am, who’s watching, and that this whole thing is built on paper-thin lies.

Because it doesn’t feel fake. I wasn’t acting. I meant what I said and I’m betting he did too.

When we finally part, my mother is wiping her eyes. My father’s smile is watery but proud. Somewhere behind me, my aunt whispersGracias a Dios.

I lean my head on Isaac’s shoulder during the small backyard reception. He tells stories of the ranch to my younger cousins in broken Spanish, and my aunt winks at me when she notices the way I watch him.

When we slow dance, he holds me like he never plans to let go.

And I admit something difficult to myself.

I don’t ever want him to.

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

elena

The desert air turns cooler by the time we reach the little casita my aunt prepared for us. A string of soft white lights twinkle overhead. A folded note from my cousin says "For the honeymooners."

Isaac opens the door for me, his hand grazing the small of my back as I walk inside. The place smells like sandalwood and clean linen. There’s a single bed. A tray of champagne and pan dulce sits on a side table, alongside a little card that reads “Felicidades.”

He sets down the bottle of champagne and turns to me, loosening the buttons on his shirt. “You want to first shower, Mrs. Logan?”

I swallow, throat tight. “You just like saying that.”

“Damn right I do,” he says, low and warm.

I step closer. My dress sways at my knees, toes bare on the cool tile floor. “You were really good with my family tonight. I’m starting to think you’re a better actor than me.”

He stares for a moment too long. “That’s because I don’t have to act when I’m around you. You’re the most beautifulbride I’ve ever seen. I could hardly breathe for how magnificent you are.”

The compliment slips under my skin, slow and potent.

His fingers move toward my waist, careful at first. When I don’t stop him, he lets them settle there. I breathe him in—cedar and heat and something innately Isaac.

“You’re still staring,” I whisper.

“Can’t help it.”

I can’t be certain who moves first but in the next second, we’re kissing. Soft, then hungrily.

His hand fists in the fabric at my lower back, dragging me closer until we’re flush. I can feel every ridge of muscle through his shirt and his mouth opens to mine, tongue sliding in slow and confident.

The ache between my legs pulses sharp and immediate.