Page 74 of Proposal Play
“No,” she says quickly, cutting off that notion. “It’s fine. I’m good. I was just worried about you. Are you okay staying married that long?”
So good with it. “Definitely. With the charity launch and everything, it makes sense.” I try to keep my response casual, though I’m pumping a fist virtually.
“I promise I’ll get better at acting.” She nibbles on the corner of her lips. “I’m just not that good at faking it, I guess.”
And I could take that a million ways, but I take it theright one. I know she liked holding my hand earlier outside the shop. I know she loved it in Vegas when I kissed her like I couldn’t get enough of her. And I would bet my entire hockey career on how very much she’d like to ride my cock again.
That’s not what she has a hard time faking.
What’s tough for Maeve isnotbeing her true, authentic self. She means she wanted to touch me. So she wasn’t that good atnottouching me.
I fight off the biggest, cockiest grin ever. My wife wants me. The Greers want authentic? I’ll give it to them.
“I have an idea,” I say.
“Count me in,” she replies without asking what it is.
We drive to the Marina, and along the way, she turns to me, her expression shifting. “Do you think it’s true? That I was her first choice all along?”
“Of course,” I say as we cruise toward the bay, glittering in the afternoon sun. “Why wouldn’t that be true?”
“She said they like to work with players’ partners. What if they waited until we were married to hire me?”
She sounds so vulnerable, and it tugs hard on my heart. “Maeve, they hiredyou, notme.It’s your name going on the mural, not mine.”
“Right, but what if they did it to make you happy?”
Oh hell. How can I ever reassure her? “Look, I’m not even in a contract year. They’re not sucking up to me. You got this job on your merits,” I say, trying, desperately trying.
She flashes a smile that quickly turns to a frown. “I don’t want to be handed things because I’m…Mrs. Callahan.”
“You’re not,” I say emphatically, wishing she could see what I see in her talent. “You got this on your own terms.She said you were her top choice. Hell, she opened up the field just because she was blown away by you and wanted to make sure she was being fair. And she came back to you.”
She shudders out a sigh, then nods like she’s trying to absorb that truth. “Thanks, Asher. I seriously appreciate that.”
“Get used to it, wife. There’s more where that came from,” I say. I’ll do whatever it takes for her to know I believe in her.
“And I think you deserve a badge for being a great temporary husband,” she says.
But to earn it, I need to do everything I can to make everyone believe in this marriage.
I park near the water and take her hand as we walk across Crissy Field. When we stop, I hold out my phone, the Golden Gate Bridge rising high behind us.
“Smile for social,” I say.
She does, bright and beautiful—a clear smile that burrows deep into my heart. But it’s not enough.
I don’t want a smile for the camera. I want to show the whole damn world that I can’t keep my hands off my wife. But I don’t want to presume she wants a kiss too, so I start to ask. “What about?—?”
“A kiss for social?”
It’s the best finished thought ever.
“Yes.” I tug her against me, her back to my chest. I wrap an arm around her waist, and then, with my free hand, I cup her jaw and turn her toward me. I kiss her, long, slow, deep—the kind of kiss that’s a prelude to how I want to fuck her.
I mentally record her reaction—her sighs, her hungry murmurs, and most of all, the way she surrenders to thekiss. She tilts her chin, she parts her lips, and she invites me to kiss her thoroughly with everything I’ve got.
That’s who she is. Someone who gives fully, who loves deeply, who wants with her whole soul. I kiss her by the bridge and in front of the ocean so we can tell our story.