Page 138 of Be My Bride

But I don’t make that call.

Because I don’t want her there.

Even if we are over, I still want Asia.

So badly that my heart pounds and my head spins.

But I can’t have her.

Because I ruin everything.

Asia adjusts her fingers in mine and answers the interviewer’s questions. I try to participate. Try to fake happiness when the truth is my marriage crashed into the rocks and splintered days ago.

It’s easy to pretend otherwise though.

Because Asia’s like a flame.

I’m drawn to her warmth.

To her smile.

To her laughter.

I soak up every opportunity to bask in her sunlight.

A stroke of my thumb against her knuckles.

An arm over the back of her chair.

A finger drawing circles on her bare shoulders.

Ah, yes, she’s leaning into me.

Damn. Yes.

I need more of her skin against mine now.

My lips are against her forehead.

She adjusts her leg. Presses her upper thigh into mine.

My pants tighten.

Hell, I want my wife.

How far can I take this with another person and a camera in the room?

I keep pushing. Pushing. Pushing.

More touches.

More of Asia sighs.

More of her eyelashes fluttering as she tries to focus on the interview while I stroke her.

Much too early, the reporter ends the interview. After laughing about how affectionate we are, she stands and shakes our hands, telling us we did great.

Us.