I was no longer nervous about the idea of being his wife.
I was scared to hell I was going to ruin it.
12
Joey
Gabby and I walked into the marketing offices at the Vipers’ headquarters in a suburb of Vegas, her hand in mine. Not because she’d taken my hand, but because she’d been fidgeting so damn bad in the elevator leading up to the sixth floor, I’d taken hers.
However, satisfaction pulsed through me as she settled almost immediately.
“You’ll be fine.”
“Right. Because lying to millions on television is something I do all the time.”
Okay, so technically we were lying. I preferred to call it stretching the truth a little bit.
“Alicia is a reporter our team respects. She’ll do right by us and look on the bright side. At least it’s not live.”
“Bright side. Right,” she mumbled, but her hand squeezed mine. Whether it was instinct or because she actually found comfort in me, I didn’t know. With the way she leaned into me, allowing me to catch the fresh and minty scent of her shampoo, as she did, I didn’t really care.
She came downstairs earlier, dressed like a snack, one of my favorites, and it’d taken everything I had not to cup her cheeks, kiss away her cherry red lipstick and muss up the thick curls she’d clearly taken time and effort to ensure were perfect. For a moment, I’d stumbled on my feet, over my heart and almost tripped over my tongue as I’d taken her in the elegant but simple, black wrap dress. The knot was belted off to the side, the collar was short, too short to fold over, the kind you saw on classical Asian style dress, and the V-neck of it dipped low enough to show off the barest, barely there hint of her cleavage. Ample cleavage I knew she had thanks to the visions of her in her bikinis now firmly imprinted into my mind.
The dress was sleeveless, showing off toned arms and the skirt of it ended just above her knee. It was the kind of dress my mom would wear to church, and it shouldn’t have been so sexy given the modesty of it, but somehow, seeing Gabby in my home, in that dress, wearing equally modest and classy black heels made my chest swell with a foreign heat.
Goddamn, she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever laid eyes on.
And she was mine.
Doubts and hazy memories be damned… Gabby had agreed to be my wife and I wanted to make sure she never regretted a moment of us.
The growing click of footsteps and voices drew my attention off her before I could do what I wanted—which was to forgo my earlier self-control and say to hell with her lipstick and perfect curls. I turned as Alicia Gates, my agent Miles, and the team’s PR rep, Brandon Mickelson, rounded the corner.
“Here we go,” I muttered so only Gabby could hear.
“Yippee.” Said with all the excitement of someone being walked to their death.
Still, I smiled. She was damn funny even when terrified. I led the way, closing the space between the people who wanted to help us and the woman I didn’t want to leave behind.
“Thanks for meeting us today. I know you’re busy.” Alicia grinned and held out her hand.
“No problem, Alicia. We’re happy to be here. This is my wife, Gabrielle.”
“Hello. Please call me Gabby and it’s nice to meet you.” Gabby slid her hand from mine in order to shake Alicia’s extended one. I introduced her to Miles and Brandon where similar hellos were exchanged and we were escorted into Brandon’s office.
Cameras and lights had already been set up, a small couch I’d never seen in there before brought in along with a black velvet chair across from us at an angle.
Damn. They’d taken the time to ensure this looked like an actual interview and not someone out to save my hide and protect my image.
Relief flooded me.
In the span of thirty-six hours, I’d started to realize how much I actually enjoyed my wife, been splashed on the pages of all sport gossip blogs and social media pages, and like always, despite the concern, my team had my back.
Hopefully, Gabby would soon realize I’d always have hers as well.
“Is there anything we can get you? Water or a few minutes?” Alicia’s gaze focused mainly on Gabby.
“I’m good,” she croaked, her mouth dry even as she faked a smile. “We should get started.”
And get it over with. She didn’t say it. She didn’t have to. The look on her face, the wide darting eyes seeking an escape said it all.
“I do,” I said to everyone. “A moment with my wife please.”
“Sure thing.” Alicia gave us a questioning look. Miles gave one that said not to screw this up and he slapped Brandon on the back.
Once they were gone, I turned to her. And fuck this.
I was attracted to this woman. I liked her. Sure it was a hell of a surprise, but that didn’t mean it had to be a mistake. So far, I couldn’t find anything I regretted about the decision to get married, even if I didn’t remember everything.
“Gabby.” I called her name softly so as not to startle her and she turned to me, those wide eyes glazed over with fear and uncertainty. Her pulse beat at the base of her throat so quickly it was a wonder she hadn’t yet passed out.
“What? Is there something wrong?”
“Yeah.” Please. Let this not be the biggest mistake I made. “There is.”
Her brows puckered, along with her lips. “What is it?”
“This,” I said and then I settled my hands at the sides of her throat, thumbs brushing her jaw. Her lips parted on a surprised, beautiful gasp and I pressed my lips to hers before I could rethink this decision.
As soon as I did, as I felt the softness of her lips, the hidden and soft taste of her, everything inside my chest expanded, exploded, and then clicked back together in the most perfect way. Her hands came to my wrists, and for the briefest moment, I feared she’d push me away, but instead, she gripped tighter. The tight posture of her frame relaxed and the soft exhale of surprise and acquiescence fell from her lips.
I kissed her softly, imagined kissing her so often I memorized every curve of her body and taste of her skin, and as I slid my tongue across her bottom lip, hers came out to meet mine.
“Shit,” I gasped, and then thrust my tongue into the cavern of her mouth, sealing us together until our lips were locked, our chests pressed together and there wasn’t an inch of space between us. I kissed her slowly, forced down the raging inside of me to take. It’d been months. Too damn many of them since I’d had a woman in my arms and pressed so tightly against me, all I could imagine was what a kiss like this would lead to.
Gabby’s hands fell from my wrists to my hips where she gripped my suit coat in her fists and yanked me so tight against her she gasped as she felt my hard, thick length against her and God, what I wanted to do to her. In this dress. In this office. On this couch.
Lift her leg to my hip, spread her knees and trail my hand to her center, shove them beneath the panties she’s wearing to her hot, throbbing sex.
It’d be good. So damn good. Combustible.
She moaned into my mouth and I swallowed it, pressing fingers tightly to her cheeks to prevent them from doing everything I envisioned and as another whimper came from her, the roll of her hips pressed against me and forced my own pleasured, needy groan from me, I slowed the kiss. Ended it with teasing nips and lips pressed firmly to hers. For a moment we stood there, lips together, breathing ragged and I gave us a moment to settle before I pulled back and stared directly into her whiskey-colored eyes—pupils blown with desire.