Chapter 27 Spencer Nash

Gray's Day

Four Days After the Wedding

It's only been four days, but I'm starting to think I married right despite the circumstances in which they happened.

Maybe I wasn't at my most coherent at the time, and it wasn't logic or responsibility speaking for me in the moment, but in hindsight, it might've been the right thing anyway.

I'm not sure yet, but the more time we spend as husband and wife, the more I want to see where it can go.

"Are you ready?" I ask.

"You clean up nice," she says as she swings her legs over the side of the bed and lifts to a stand. She stops short of me, and I find myself wanting to reach out for her hand.

I don't.

"I just need two seconds in the bathroom," she says.

I nod, and I wander over toward the window to wait for her.

I haven't slipped off my ring.

Neither has she.

I'm not sure what that means .

As she emerges from the bathroom with shiny gloss on her lips, I can't help but stare at them as the overwhelming feeling to kiss her washes over me.

I've kissed her a couple times now, and each time it's been because a rush of emotions crashed over one or the other of us. And maybe we kissed the night we got married—something neither of us can remember, but somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind, I can imagine a kiss that was molten lava between the two of us.

I want to take her there again.

I want to explore these feelings that keep plowing into me.

I want to take her to bed and make her moan.

I've been doing my best to maintain proper, respectful etiquette, but a man can only take so much of those stunning eyes as they fall on me with something like desire.

Maybe tonight will be our night.

I blow out a breath.

"Ready," she says, and I nod as I try to shake off those thoughts.

It's becoming harder and harder, though. We ride in the back of a car together toward my brother's house. His neighborhood is gated, but that doesn't keep out the media, so he has tents set up along his driveway to allow guests to exit their vehicles in privacy.

I'm thankful for that, at least. I know we need to break the news to Amelia in person, and I'd really rather not have her find out ahead of time, if that's at all possible.

The fact that she doesn't know by now seems less and less likely, but she hasn't called me out on it, and as far as I know, Grace hasn't heard from her either.

We're escorted toward the front door, and Grace's hand slips naturally into mine. It's so natural that I almost don't even notice it except for the fact that her hands are ice cold. I glance down at her, and her eyes are looking at me. I squeeze her hand, and her lips tip up a little as something passes between us. It's that feeling you get when you're distinctly a couple—that understanding that we can talk without words at all .

Each moment I spend with her seems to be pushing me closer to her as I feel myself starting to fall.

There's just one problem.

Even though my brain tells me Gracie would never, ever cheat on me, the last woman I was with did.

And Amelia's not the only one.

Athletes have reputations as dogs, and a lot of them are. But it's just as easy for the women left behind managing their day-to-day existence to step outside of a relationship as it is for the men who are in different cities every night playing a sport that's a part of their DNA.

I'm scared to give all of myself to someone only to be blindsided again.

Gracie is different, and I know that. My heart doesn't truly believe she'd ever be capable of cheating. But my brain likes to intrude on that conversation and remind me that I didn't think Amelia was capable of it either.

We're taken into the office on the first floor, where I find my parents, Lincoln, Jolene, their kids, and Asher.

"Hey, family," I say, waving as I walk into the room.

"My handsome boy," my mom says, walking over to adjust my tie before she pulls me into her arms.

I squeeze her tightly, and I do a little bro-shake with both Linc and Ash while Grace and my mom hug.

As my dad claps me on the shoulder, I ask, "Where's Grayson?"

My mom fields that one. "He's up in one of the guest rooms getting photos taken with Beckett," my mom says, referring to Grayson's best man, his best friend from high school.

"How's he doing?" I ask.

"Calm as a cucumber," Mom says. "He's ready, and Ava is an absolute vision. The dress is perfection, and that belt you picked out is stunning, Spence."

"It was all Gracie," I say honestly, nodding at her.

She sets a modest hand on her chest. "I'm still mortified that we even had to consider figuring out how to make that up to her. "

"That reminds me," Mom says. "I never saw the picture of you two at your wedding." She raises her brows pointedly.

I laugh and hold up both hands defensively. "This is Gray's day."

"That's true, but he's not here. Show me," she goads, and I glance at Grace, who lifts a shoulder as if to say, go for it .

I pull my phone out of my pocket, and I pull up the email from the chapel since I haven't downloaded the photos to my phone just yet.

I flash the phone at my mother, and she grabs onto it and stares. "Oh, Spencer," she says softly. "And Grace. What a gorgeous bride. A beautiful couple." She sniffles a little and wipes her eyes, and I toss an arm around her shoulder and pull her in for a side hug.

Lincoln chuckles and rolls his eyes good-naturedly. "The first of many tears she'll shed today, believe me."

"I'm just sad I missed it," she moans.

"It's not like it was real," Asher pipes in, and I'm not sure why his words poke at me.

He's right. It was never supposed to be real.

Yet as I spot the look of pain in Grace's eyes that matches the one pressing on my chest…I think it's becoming real faster than either of us ever imagined it might.

I have the strangest urge to do anything I can to wipe that look off her face.

I don't dare make a move—not in here. Not in front of Asher and Lincoln and everyone who's watching my every move.

But that doesn't mean I won't make my move later tonight.

We chill in the office a while before Grayson joins us, and he's his usual outgoing and gregarious self.

"The Nash family is looking good," he announces from the doorway, and we all turn toward him. "Ready for photos out by the altar?"

We head outside for family photos, and Grayson takes photos with Mom and Dad first. Despite the rough way their marriage ended, they're civil enough with each other that they can be in the same room to celebrate this joyous occasion .

The brothers are called up to the altar, and I squeeze Grace's hand as I leave her behind with Jolene to smile for the camera.

I spot her eyes on me.

I spot something in those eyes that I'm not sure was there before—or maybe it was, and I just chose not to see it.

I see it now, though, and there's nothing I want more than to act on it.

I don't think it's just me feeling these new things.

Is it scary? Yes.

But might it be worth it anyway?

I think it might be.

It almost feels like the last four days have been leading us here, like they've been foreplay for the main event.

As her eyes heat when they meet mine, my cock responds.

I want her.

Holy shit, I want my wife.

The feeling is fierce as it rolls over me. I want her now . I want her any way I can get her. I want to jump off this altar and carry her to one of the guest rooms where I can kiss her the way she deserves to be kissed.

I want to strip her down to nothing and taste every inch of her body.

I want to drive into her as I watch her give into the pleasure.

I want all of her.

"The brothers' wives may join their husbands," the photographer says, interrupting my thoughts.

Jesus.

I can't wait to see what the fuck I must look like when these family photos come back.

Grace hangs back as Jolene makes her way toward Lincoln.

"That's you, too, dear," my mom says to Grace.

"Oh," she says, a little flustered as she makes her way across the white aisle runner to take her place beside me.

She slides into the little slot open for her, and I wrap my hand around her hip, pulling her toward me.

I know she feels my erection on her ass. It would be impossible to miss it .

She doesn't respond, though. She doesn't twitch or move away.

And then, just as the photographer tells us to smile, she shifts. It's infinitesimally, but it's in my direction, and it's enough for me to know she's acknowledging what's digging into her ass…enough for me to know she wants it, too.

The wedding's about to start, though. I can't duck out on my usher duties any more than she can duck out on sitting beside my mother as we're dismissed from the photos. I shoot her a longing gaze as I watch her settle into the row where my mom will join her in twenty minutes or so, and when I find her eyes on mine, and I see the same look of need in them that's reflected back from me…

I know tonight's going to be our night.