Chapter 50: No Funny Business
The moment we stepped outside, the cool night air hit us. Vanessa shivered against me, her fingers curling into the fabric of my suit jacket. I tightened my grip, adjusting her weight in my arms as I strode toward the car. She nestled her face against my shoulder, her breath warm on my neck. Desire jolted through me.
"You’re a menace when you’re drunk," I muttered.
"Menace to society," she slurred, her words slow and syrupy. "That’s me." Her fingers traced idle patterns against my chest, and I sucked in steadying breaths. The barest touch of her skin against mine was enough to make me shudder.
Malone opened the car’s back door, and I ducked inside, stretching across the red leather seats to carefully deposit my passed-out bride. She slumped back, her eyelids fluttering as I buckled her in.
"Where are we going?" she asked, her voice thick with sleep.
I paused, my fingers lingering near her collarbone. "Where do you want to go?"
"Wherever you are," she said on a sigh. Then her head lolled to the side, her body surrendering to exhaustion.
I exhaled sharply, forcing myself to look away. Wherever you are. Those words shouldn’t have hit me like a punch to the gut. But they did.
The engine purred to life as Malone pulled away from the venue. The city lights blurred past us, streaks of gold and white against the black sky, but I barely noticed them. My attention was fixed on Vanessa, her head lolling slightly against the seat as she dozed.
There was something painfully intimate about watching her sleep—the way her lips parted slightly, the soft rise and fall of her chest, the way her fingers curled loosely in her lap. Even her little pig snore, ridiculous as it was, made my throat tighten with affection.
Her lashes cast delicate half-moon shadows on her cheeks, and in the dim glow of passing streetlights, she looked almost ethereal. The sight of her like this—vulnerable, trusting—made my chest ache in a way I couldn’t explain.