Read Online Crashing the Congressman’s Wedding (Crimson Romance) by Elley Arden - Free Book Online
Authors: Elley Arden
Tags: Romance, Contemporary
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you talking about? I’m tired. Move.” He grabbed her upper arms and started to lift.
She squirmed. “Put me down.”
“Gladly.” He deposited her to the side and stormed into his room.
Only she followed him.
“How are we going to do this? We need a plan. I don’t have anything to wear. We can’t just waltz back into town
together
. We should stagger our returns. How can we stagger our returns?”
That was when he noticed her hair, which had been pulled back in a knot at her neck, was now as wild and crazy as her sleep-deprived mood. No blown-dry loops of sunshine grazing her chin, instead kinky, frizzy springs poked out in all directions. And her nose was red, but not red like the lipstick her lips were missing. Her mouth formed a pale, hard line across her face, and her eyes jumped out at him. They were bold, blue and full of fury.
“Alice, go to sleep. We’ll talk about this later. The exhaustion is getting to you.”
She lunged, driving both fists into his breastbone, forcing him to trip on his own feet. He reached one hand behind him to shield the hard corner of the bedside table and the other hand to her waist to soften her fall should they both crash.
And they did. On the bed. With Alice on top.
She rolled off of him immediately, but she didn’t jump off the bed like he expected. She also didn’t hit him with her left hand, which rested inches from his right hip.
Justin was afraid to move, afraid to say a word, afraid to breathe should it pull her out of whatever peaceful trance she’d landed in. But after several seconds of eerie silence, curiosity won. Maybe she’d fallen asleep.
Turning his head, he watched her watch the ceiling fan rotate and wondered if this crazed state of sleep and food deprivation would give way to some sort of weird spiritual enlightenment.
“I hate you,” she whispered.
So much for that theory.
• • •
Alice watched the fan blades whirl and wished she could close her eyes and make the man beside her go away. He was ruining everything. Years of building a wall strong enough to support her fragile indifference of him and strong enough to imprison her true feelings for him were wasted after five seconds by his side.
“I’m sorry you feel that way.”
She told herself not to look at him, that he didn’t deserve her attention, but something in his voice was so unlike the proud and sure voice of Congressman Mitchell. She had to see.
When she turned her head, he was looking at her, and if she didn’t know any better she’d think regret was written all over his face. Regret about what, she didn’t know. There was too much.
She returned her gaze to the fan. Look what they’d become. It was laughable, really. Two old friends with a sordid history, still unable to be honest about their feelings.
“I’m sorry, too.” She was … and she wasn’t. He deserved to be punched. Maybe not over pizza delivery, but certainly for dragging her here and making matters worse with the I-think-you’re-beautiful admission. Still, punching him and fighting with him wasn’t solving anything.
Alice let her eyes close.
“We’ll figure this out. Technically, neither one of us has done anything wrong. Morgan cheated. She deserves the brunt of disdain. You and I will go home. I’ll get the plant. You’ll get your theatre. And we can forget about the rest.”
The rest.
Like this. Her stomach pitched. She wasn’t sure she’d ever forget what it felt like to lie next to him in bed, the heat from his body warming her left side, the scent of him stirring fantasies in her head. Or how it felt when his breath tickled her ear. Or how he looked shirtless in the summer sun.
The rest
wasn’t going to go quietly.
“Do you hear that?” His whisper shivered along her skin.
She prayed for him to quit talking. Then maybe she could forget he was there long enough to fall asleep and wake up ready to go home.
“Do you hear the ocean?”
In all the chaos of their argument,
She squirmed. “Put me down.”
“Gladly.” He deposited her to the side and stormed into his room.
Only she followed him.
“How are we going to do this? We need a plan. I don’t have anything to wear. We can’t just waltz back into town
together
. We should stagger our returns. How can we stagger our returns?”
That was when he noticed her hair, which had been pulled back in a knot at her neck, was now as wild and crazy as her sleep-deprived mood. No blown-dry loops of sunshine grazing her chin, instead kinky, frizzy springs poked out in all directions. And her nose was red, but not red like the lipstick her lips were missing. Her mouth formed a pale, hard line across her face, and her eyes jumped out at him. They were bold, blue and full of fury.
“Alice, go to sleep. We’ll talk about this later. The exhaustion is getting to you.”
She lunged, driving both fists into his breastbone, forcing him to trip on his own feet. He reached one hand behind him to shield the hard corner of the bedside table and the other hand to her waist to soften her fall should they both crash.
And they did. On the bed. With Alice on top.
She rolled off of him immediately, but she didn’t jump off the bed like he expected. She also didn’t hit him with her left hand, which rested inches from his right hip.
Justin was afraid to move, afraid to say a word, afraid to breathe should it pull her out of whatever peaceful trance she’d landed in. But after several seconds of eerie silence, curiosity won. Maybe she’d fallen asleep.
Turning his head, he watched her watch the ceiling fan rotate and wondered if this crazed state of sleep and food deprivation would give way to some sort of weird spiritual enlightenment.
“I hate you,” she whispered.
So much for that theory.
• • •
Alice watched the fan blades whirl and wished she could close her eyes and make the man beside her go away. He was ruining everything. Years of building a wall strong enough to support her fragile indifference of him and strong enough to imprison her true feelings for him were wasted after five seconds by his side.
“I’m sorry you feel that way.”
She told herself not to look at him, that he didn’t deserve her attention, but something in his voice was so unlike the proud and sure voice of Congressman Mitchell. She had to see.
When she turned her head, he was looking at her, and if she didn’t know any better she’d think regret was written all over his face. Regret about what, she didn’t know. There was too much.
She returned her gaze to the fan. Look what they’d become. It was laughable, really. Two old friends with a sordid history, still unable to be honest about their feelings.
“I’m sorry, too.” She was … and she wasn’t. He deserved to be punched. Maybe not over pizza delivery, but certainly for dragging her here and making matters worse with the I-think-you’re-beautiful admission. Still, punching him and fighting with him wasn’t solving anything.
Alice let her eyes close.
“We’ll figure this out. Technically, neither one of us has done anything wrong. Morgan cheated. She deserves the brunt of disdain. You and I will go home. I’ll get the plant. You’ll get your theatre. And we can forget about the rest.”
The rest.
Like this. Her stomach pitched. She wasn’t sure she’d ever forget what it felt like to lie next to him in bed, the heat from his body warming her left side, the scent of him stirring fantasies in her head. Or how it felt when his breath tickled her ear. Or how he looked shirtless in the summer sun.
The rest
wasn’t going to go quietly.
“Do you hear that?” His whisper shivered along her skin.
She prayed for him to quit talking. Then maybe she could forget he was there long enough to fall asleep and wake up ready to go home.
“Do you hear the ocean?”
In all the chaos of their argument,
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