Page 22 of The One Night Match

It’s getting in the way of touching her, and I can’t have that.

Riley crosses to the dress bag hanging on the other side of the room and tugs the zipper down, looking over her shoulder expectantly. “Aren’t you going to wait outside?”

“No.”

“Cruz.” She sighs.

“You’re my wife now, Kitten,” I point out. “And I’ve seen all the important parts already anyway.”

She huffs out a sigh. “You’re a big fan of that word, huh?”

“Kitten?”

“No, the other one.”

“Wife?”

She nods.

I chuckle, leaning my back against the door as I look my fill of her. “Fuck yeah, I am. Might even be my new favorite word in the English language.”

She rolls her eyes, but I don’t miss the tiny smile tugging at her lips.

Something tells me no one has ever chosen Riley. No one has ever put her first, made her feel like she deserves everything good in the world. But that changes today.

I don’t give a fuck if this marriage was only meant to strengthen my position as head of the family.

Everything changed when that veil lifted, and my kitten was beneath the layers of tulle.

I push off the door and stalk toward her. “Need a hand getting out of your marshmallow?”

She scoffs. “I happen to like this dress.”

“As do I, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t look like it belongs in a hot chocolate on a cold winter’s day.”

Riley flicks an amused roll of the eyes over her shoulder, and I shove down the groan that tries to escape. This woman.

I thought the allure was just because of the dark club, the alcohol, and my need to have one last night where my decisions were still my own.

But it turns out it’s just her. And the craziest part is, I don’t even really know her.

I don’t know her favorite color or the snack she reaches for after a long day. I don’t know what she majored in in college, or whether she’ll hog the blankets at night.

What I do know is that despite all of that, I’m desperate to uncover every hidden nuance. I’m excited to insert myself into every single facet of her life until she needs me for everything.

“Can you just loosen the corset?” she finally asks.

“You got it, Kitten.” I brush my fingers down her bare back, a part of me settling at finally having my hands on her.

“We need to talk about that nickname,” Riley grumbles, lifting her hair off her back to give me the access I need.

“I think it suits you.”

“Because I’m small and weak?” she asks, her voice pitching ever so slightly. Most people probably wouldn’t notice, but most people haven’t just found their new obsession.

“No.” I shake my head as I carefully pull the satin strands of fabric until the dress begins to loosen. “Kittens are underestimated. They look sweet and innocent, like they could never hurt a fly. But their claws are always the sharpest. It’s a mistake to rule them out based on their appearance and stature alone.”

She doesn’t speak for long seconds, and I find myself desperate to know what she’s thinking. Why hasn’t someonefigured out a way to read minds yet? That would be so handy right now.