Ambrose couldn’t tear his gaze away from Barbara as they followed their small group down the aisle.
Mrs. Barbara Smith.
She looked up at him and smiled.
Have you ever heard a more beautiful name?
Her smile grew. Maybe I have, Mr. Ambrose Rene Smith.
She took his hand and laced their fingers together.
A pleasant heat raced from her fingers’ pressure points all the way down into his leg muscles.
I want to take her into my arms and kiss every inch of her face.
And I want more than that.
I want her to touch me all over. I want her to explore me.
They stepped outside.
I want her to feel—-
Barbara pulled him into another hug and kiss session. He relaxed in her embrace.
I love this.
Barbara. Barbara. I missed this. I missed kissing you. I missed touching you. I missed this so much. I—
I know. She broke off and looked up at him. I’ve missed it too.
She took a step back and gave him an admiring scan. “It’s too bad you couldn’t wear that wonderful old-fashioned jacket you had on that first time we went dancing.”
Ambrose laughed. “Raven would have killed me. I don’t think that jacket would rank as low in his estimation as my cargo pants. But he would have spontaneously lost buckets of blood about me wearing something that old on my wedding day.” He paused. “My wedding day.” He played with the loose hair hanging along the side of her face. “I’m a married man now.” He kissed the ends of her hair. “And I am married to the most amazing woman I have ever known.”
I want to remove his jacket. I want to untuck his shirt. I want to put my hands on his bare skin. I want to—
She blushed. “I knew touching you and kissing you would be dangerous.”
“Dangerous? Hmm.” He moved his hands down to her hips.
She could feel the heated outlines of his fingers through her clothes, on her skin.
“Do you reckon we still need a chaperone?”
She nodded. “More so than ever.”
A flirtatious smile crept across his face. “Are you thinking utter smut about me, Barbara Smith?”
Her blush deepened. “Maybe.”
“I would love to hear it.”
She giggled. “Brat.”
He laughed. “Stealing my line. Tsk. Tsk.”
She kissed the side of his face. “But ask me when we’re finally alone. I might tell you then.”
“Might…Hm. Might is a very uncertain word. I don’t know if I like ‘might’.”
Raven barged into their flirting fun. “I beg your pardon, sir, but Robin suggested that I drive you and Barbara to the restaurant.”
“Why? We know where it is. We can get there just fine.”
“Indeed, that is so, sir.” Raven fixated on Ambrose’s bare hand. “Yet, he was concerned about…about…” He sighed. “Sir, you have one glove on and one glove off. May I please remedy the situation?”
“Sure.” Ambrose removed his glove and offered it to him.
Raven extended his claws. “That is not what I had in mind.” His claws retracted. “May I please reglove your hands?”
“No.” Ambrose folded hands with Barbara. “I like how this feels.”
Push the anger down.
Do not let them see.
Do not let them know.
“Very well, sir. However, you will wear your gloves when we arrive at the restaurant.”
“Why? I don’t—”
Raven’s eyes glinted dangerously. “You will wear them, sir. And I will drive you to the restaurant, sir. Is that clear, sir?”
Ambrose scoffed. “As clear as a stake to the heart. Fine. You win. So, stop glaring death threats at me.”
Raven bowed. “Very good, sir.”