His Mild Touch

g white gentleman, to be precise. It's possible that my father omitted these details, or if I had thoroughly reviewed the fil

n attendance at the reception, trying my best to be discreet. His chestnut locks are elegantly swept back,

n, they are pouty, full and I want another taste. My cheeks heat up at the thought, I cough and his amber eyes narrow slightly in my direction before returning t

s one at that and I find myself getting attracted to him. To u

me in my husband's bad book, he looks like one who never forgets. My husband? The word tastes lik

these weird thoughts, I move to stand behind an empty seat. I must have looked stupid, standing a few feet from the main event, smiling alone. His guest places a hand on his shoulder, I force down the urge to stomp ove

e. She takes a sip from the flute of champagne perched between her fingertips with an elegance

come undone from the high puff I managed to make from my wild curls. My ha

self," I repay the compliment and s

in glistens in the sun, she has truly been sun-kissed and her dimples are prominent when she smiles. Ma no l

it. Instead, I like the way it settles on my tongue like it's my favourite candy and I bite down on

e whispers into my ear, "Your mother is right, Patricia, you look beautiful." I want to be angry at

I suck in a sharp breath, the mirthless giggles escaping him tells me he noticed my little disorientation in his presence. He

the pocket of his pant and I turn away under his smothering gaze. I can't stop myself from g

to his face and that mischievous smirk returns to his lips at

es have seeped into it so I clear

e expect me to say otherwise? It is my-our wedding, I am supposed to be happy. I have to be ha

you d

nt to impress him and I have no idea why. He's the one who wanted the marriage, not me. His

, our eyes finally meet and I lean into his touch when his thumb caresses my lip. Shivers trickle down my spine, my tongue runs

his index finger. My disappointment is palpable, I grunt in reply, murmuring a barely audible

I can't help feeling the show of affection was solely for their sake. He raises his glass to t

ide me. Maybe it is just me but

f songs, the type I would have wanted at my wedding and my head bobs to the rhythm. I do not

m behind. He tucks his head into the space between my neck and shoulders. "Relax, Pat." The k

h me as we watch different couples dance in the space we created at the centre of