He cups my face in his hands, his thumbs stroking my cheeks as he moves his mouth against mine. Just like he took the lead when we were dancing, he takes the lead now.
All I can do is follow along. I’m in no state to make decisions. He’s silenced me for the first time, and also for the first time, I’m not mad about it.
We stand still, nothing between us but the fabric of our clothes, and kiss like we’ve done it a million times before. The crowd cheers. A whistle screeches above the noise. But nothing stops Holden from kissing me.
I lean against him, my hands dangling over his shoulders. He parts my lips with his tongue. He kisses me like he has all night to show the people of Honey Creek that I am, in fact, his.
Finally, but still far too soon, he presses against me one last time. He then lays his forehead against mine. His chest rises and falls. His breath is every bit as ragged as my own.
“That okay?” he asks.
I can feel the smirk return.
“It was okay,” I nearly pant. “I don’t think it deserved a warning, though.”
He bursts out laughing as he steps back. His eyes warn me again, but this time, his humor is back.
My shoulders fall in relief as I regroup my mental faculties.
Holden takes the lead as my friends come up to give us their well-wishes and to tell us they are taking off. I’m glad. Not only because I can’t think straight yet but also because watching him in control is a sight to behold.
“All right,” Dottie says. “We are going to let these two enjoy their honeymoon. You all will see them around.”
“Good night, everyone,” I say. “Thank you for coming. It was so sweet of you.”
Dottie stands in front of us and spreads her arms. “Now go, you two. Liv and I will clean up.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I say, looking at my sister over my shoulder. “I can do it tomorrow.”
“No,” Liv says sweetly. “You go consummate your marriage.”
“Liv!” I say, my face on fire as Holden laughs next to me. “Are you serious right now?”
“Come on, sugar. Let’s go consummate our marriage.”
I look at Liv and then Dottie with a slack jaw as Holden guides me inside.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
HOLDEN
Sophie steps inside the kitchen ahead of me. Her foot taps against the floor as she waits for me to shut the door.
“I’m going to kill you,” she says as soon as the latch closes. The apples of her cheeks are flushed as she faces me with her hands on her hips.
Running a hand through my hair, I try to sort out what, exactly, she’s pissed about.
Her eyes are a bit wilder than usual as I take her in. Her face is pink, her hair a bit more disheveled than I’m used to seeing. It’s clear that the adrenaline of the day is wearing off and exhaustion is settling in.
Also, the reality of the two of us being together, and married, is hitting her.
“Why do you want to kill me?” I ask.
“Let’s go consummate our marriage,” she mocks, rolling her eyes.
“First of all, that’s a terrible impersonation of me.”
She lifts a brow. “Close enough that you know I was talking about you.”
I lift mine right back. “Or it could also be that no one else is referring to you and consummating a marriage tonight.”
She gasps. “I’m not sleeping with you!”
I can’t help but laugh at the wild streak in her eyes. And the longer I laugh, the madder she gets. And the angrier she gets, the prettier she gets, and that makes it even harder to stop. It’s a vicious circle.
“Sophie,” I say, holding a hand out in front of me. “Settle down.”
It’s too late for that. I know it. And I also know as soon as the words escape my lips that I never should’ve said them to her.
Now both of her brows shoot to the sky. “First rule of marriage: don’t tell me to settle down. That’s a surefire way to ensure I just get more heated.”
“Noted.”
She squints her eyes and wrinkles her nose like she’s trying to decide what to say. I could do something and redirect our conversation, but she’s too cute.
Eventually, she shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe you’re right. Maybe that was the right thing to say.”
“Of course it was. You’ve been married. Isn’t that what people do after their wedding reception?”
“Well, I don’t know . . .” She toes the tile with her shoe.
“What do you mean that you don’t know?”
“Chad and I got into a fight practically as soon as we said ‘I do.’ And you know, it probably wasn’t a normal situation.”
I don’t laugh. I don’t flinch. I don’t even crack a smile at this because it’s not funny . . . to her.