I was so surprised I didn’t push him away.
His lips were warm and soft, and he gripped my neck with just the right amount of pressure. I realized this was the first time I’d ever kissed him, really kissed him, not for show, not for some stupid tradition.
It was like I’d fallen into some twisted, dark Victorian novel. Kissing this rogue for the first time as my husband.
My gut twisted, though. It hurt. Something sliced with each clever swipe of his tongue, because I felt like only Grayson’s lips should be there.
And it felt like I was cheating on myself, on a promise I’d made the day he broke all of ours—
West broke the kiss suddenly, searching my eyes, a wrinkle in his smooth, chestnut brow. Then the wrinkle vanished as if he’d answered some question as two black cars pulled up to the curb. I fixed on them, a question in my eyes.
West pushed aside my curls. “I’ll meet you back at the house. Emergency at the office.”
He opened the door for me, ushering me into the car. After I was seated, he kept the door open, lingering, humor in his eyes that made my gut flip. It was…brutal.
“I don’t mind you thinking about him.”
“W-what? I wasn’t thinking—”
“I like a good chase,” he cut me off, slamming the door.
West drove away in his car, my gut gnawing.
That was wrong, but maybe it was the wrongness that gave power to the butterflies in my stomach
My driver turned to look at me over one arm. “To New York, Mrs. du Lac?”
I wrinkled my brow. “New York?” But the moment the question left my lips, I’d answered it. That was where the ob-gyn was.
I’ll take care of it.
And somehow, Grayson had.
I sank back into the leather as the matte black partition rose between us. I lifted a hand to my lips.
What was I doing? I don’t want to make these mistakes again. I don’t want to be the person who went back to the men who hurt her. The girl everyone is screaming at in the horror movie.
I’d just kissed my husband for the first time, but was on my way to meet the father of my child.
Thirty-Three
STORY
* * *
Since the ob-gyn was in New York City, it was a bit of a drive to get there. I stared out the tinted window at the pretty lights donning the trees decorating the medians.
This was supposed to be a friendship.
I couldn’t help but think…friends didn’t drive in two separate cars to a private, sworn-to-secrecy ob-gyn.
Friends.
The car came to a stop, and I was ushered inside by Grayson’s security. I had sunglasses on and a hat, the collar of my coat pulled. I looked like the girls I saw in magazines. Magazines that photographed Abigail and put Gemma and Gray on the covers.
Grayson and I couldn’t be seen together, not until we were in the room. My gut sank deeper.
Friends.