Page 65 of Breaking the Ice

When he pulls away, his eyes are glazed. “Whoa. If you don’t stop that and put on clothes, we’ll miss the show.”

He’s not wrong.

“Maybe I can thank you more later,” I say, putting a flirty note into my voice. I feel his eyes on me as I sashay to my closet and pull out my nicest dress—the one I wore to dinner last week. Too bad I have to repeat something he’s already seen, but I wouldn’t mind making his face go slack again when I put it on.

Or when I shimmy out of it tonight.

It’s been hard to concentrate on anything else. Every kiss with Evan is hotter than the last—and definitely hotter than any sexual experience I’ve had before. I’m curious to see how good it could be, but also, I trust him. I don’t know how long he wants to be married, but he’s certainly taken to monogamy. He’s my husband, after all. What would be the harm in sleeping with him?

Besides the fact that he might ruin me for all future men? Right now, as he gazes at me from across the room and heats my skin with only a look, it feels like a risk I’m willing to take.

“The show was amazing,” I say, giggling, as I stumble in the hallway outside our apartment.

“Whoa, wife.” Evan wraps an arm around my waist, steadying me. “You’re not still tipsy, are you?”

“No, thank you very much.” I’m not. Evan bought me two glasses of champagne during the show, but it ended hours ago. I still feel lightheaded, but that’s because of him. And my heels, to be fair.

“Do you need me to carry you across the threshold?” he asks, his voice dropping to a husky register that makes my insides tingle.

“Uh-huh.” I don’t need it, but I want it.

Butterflies take flight in my chest as he unlocks the door and then bends down and scoops me up like I weigh nothing. Holy hell, how is being picked up and carried the sexiest thing that’s ever happened to me?

My feet dangle over his arm while the other one cradles me against his chest. I can’t help the sigh that escapes my lips.

“You like that?” Evan asks, teasing. He walks over to our bed, and I think he’s going to drop me on it but instead slides my body down the length of his. My feet land on the floor, still unsteady, and I grab his biceps.

“You take my breath away.” The words pop out of my mouth before I can stop them, and my cheeks heat.

He tilts my chin up and gazes at me. “Are you sure you’re not drunk?”

“Nope. Just happy.” And I am. Deliriously so. My incredible, handsome, sexy husband took me to see Hamilton for Christmas and literally swept me off my feet. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah, I just want to make sure that you won’t forget.” Evan winks at me.

“Forget what?”

“This.” Cupping my face in his hands, he captures my lips in a searing kiss.

I slide my fingers into his hair and kiss him back with everything I’m feeling—attraction, gratitude, maybe even something like love.

When we come up for air, he moves to my cheek and neck, peppering the exposed skin of my chest with little tantalizing pecks.

I moan. “Evan, I think you should probably take my dress off.”

He pulls back, staring at me. “Are you sure about that?”

“Yes.” A million times, yes.

“This isn’t just Hamilton talking?”

“No.” I shake my head. “Well, okay, maybe a little. It was pretty awesome. The high from that will last for days. But Evan, do you remember those girls when we were sledding last week?”

He blinks. “No. What are you talking about?”

I laugh. “Exactly. You didn’t notice them.”

“Was I supposed to?”