“We didn’t have any wedding vows,” I replied.
“Exactly.”
“So, we’re making promises to each other already? What type of promises are you suggesting, husband?”
He smelled so damn good it was difficult to concentrate. Inhaling him had rearranged my breathing pattern, and I could no longer keep up with the rapid flow of my breaths.
He wore Dark Rebel, hints of spiced wood and vanilla that enhanced the natural boldness of his scent, an earthy white musk that was tinged by his fire. Arjen was a devastating combination of warmth and hard muscles that aided in clouding my senses.
“The kind of promises that will keep us accountable and alive.”
His statement drew me back to our conversation.
“What am I promising?” I asked.
“Your honesty. That you’ll always be honest with me, and I’ll always be honest with you.”
“Sounds like a fair exchange,” I stated, my breaths getting lost against his lips that hovered desperately close to mine when I glanced up.
The music’s tempo changed and disrupted the flow of our mingling currents of attraction. The new tune caused him to release me from the tight hold he had trapped me in.
“Should we keep dancing, or would you like to enjoy some of the expensive food and wine you wanted?”
The wide smile on my face met his mischievous one.
“Let’s enjoy the food and wine. Plus, I need to get out of this dress and slip into something more comfortable.”
I’d picked out a pantsuit that bore a similarity to my dress to wear to our wedding reception. Thankfully, everything was in the same building as the staff worked frantically to open the back portion of the room that was cordoned off by a wall of flowers. The beautiful space was a continuation of the wedding theme, but with food, wine, and a deejay who was playing a mix of upbeat dance tunes.
Arjen didn’t give a response, but I noticed one part pride, and another part something I couldn’t decipher when his curious gaze ran over me.
Was Arjen seducing me, or was I paranoid about being married?