Perfectly Wedded (Perfect Crush #1)

12. Sloan

TWELVE

Sloan

V ale wheels around, his eyes lifting to the glove I’m holding. “You voted for yourself?” he says with a confused frown, like I did this for him, and not because I’m hiding a secret.

There’s a weight pressing against my chest. I shake my head. “Sorry.”

“Looks like you’re going to enjoy some dessert,” Lucian says as Brax carries a tub of whipped cream into the room.

“This is the punishment?” Vale says, glancing between Leo and Brax.

“Who said it was a punishment?” Leo says. “You might actually enjoy this. Tate came up with the rules.”

Tate smirks. “You need to feed each other whipped cream.”

I glance at the single spoon and shrug. “Easy enough.”

Then he holds up a pair of zip ties. “Without your hands.”

“How are we supposed to do that?” Vale asks.

“Use any other part of your body,” Tate says, zip-tying Vale’s hands together before he moves on to me. “And figure it out as a team.”

“You couldn’t go easy on us, could you?” Vale asks.

“Just be glad I didn’t make you do this with your hockey teammates,” he says. “That was somebody’s suggestion.” He shoots Rourke a dirty look.

“Have fun, you two,” Leo says with a wicked smirk.

“So the only rule is that we can’t use our hands, but we can use anything else?” I ask, looking toward Tate for confirmation.

“Correct,” he says with a nod. “You each have to do it once, which might take multiple tries.”

I look at the tub of whipped cream. There’s no way to feed Vale easily without my hands. I turn to Vale. “Do you have any good ideas, or should we accept that this will be totally awkward?”

“I’ve got nothing,” he says. “First lesson in marriage: Don’t let a bunch of bachelors plan your wedding shower.” His mouth curves into a smile.

Vale’s third rule is going to bite us in the butt. Do whatever it takes.

I study the spoon as the guys make less than helpful suggestions on how to feed Vale without my hands—including suggesting our lips, tongue, ears (seriously?), and elbows.

Nobody sees what’s right in front of us—a spoon. “What if I grab the spoon with my mouth, scoop some whipped cream, and then hold it steady for you to take a bite?” I suggest.

Rourke points at us. “You’re conspiring. That deserves a penalty.”

“Nobody said we couldn’t plan our method of attack,” Vale grumbles.

“No penalty,” Tate agrees. “You can talk through it.”

Vale looks at me. “It’s worth a try.”

I crouch low, grabbing the spoon with my teeth, and then clumsily tilt my head to scoop whipped cream from the tub. At one point, the tub almost slides off the table, but Vale uses his hip to keep it in place.

My idea is still awkward, putting me within inches of Vale’s mouth. Kissing distance. But without using any part of my lips, this is the only way to avoid direct contact.

“That’s cheating,” Jaxon says .

“You should have set up more rules,” Tate says, taking our side.

His body almost presses against mine. It’s not that this should be awkward for a married couple, but considering we haven’t even kissed—other than the awkward kiss in the Little Pink Chapel—it feels like forced contact.

Vale leans toward me, and his eyes flick to mine, then down to my lips. For a moment, there’s a ripple of something in his gaze, and I nearly drop the spoon.

“Vale!” I mumble.

He reacts with his lightning-fast reflexes, his lips brushing over the spoon before the utensil drops completely, clattering across the floor and settling under a chair.

Vale licks the whipped cream from his lips. “That still counts,” he says. He got a half-bite, and we somehow managed to avoid lip contact.

“Maybe,” Leo says. “But we aren’t helping you get the spoon back for your turn.”

Vale glances down at the spoon under a chair.

“You’ll never fit under that,” I tell him. The legs are too narrow for his shoulders.

“Watch me,” he says with a wink. Vale loves a challenge, and nobody is going to tell him he can’t do something.

He drops to the ground, his hands awkwardly tied behind his back, and wriggles his body like a snake.

His wide shoulders strain against the chair legs, but the spoon is just out of reach of his mouth.

“I like seeing you on your face,” Leo says, crossing his arms. “It’s a good look for you.”

Vale scoots out from under the chair and glares at Leo. “You’re gonna get your butt kicked on the ice later.”

Leo laughs. “Not if I’m too fast for you."

Vale eyes the whipped cream. “Got any other ideas?”

“How about using your feet?” Rourke suggests with an eyebrow wiggle .

“Ew. No,” I say, frowning. “I don’t do feet.”

A few of the guys throw out their ideas, which mostly involve things I know Vale wouldn’t subject me to.

Vale hesitates, looking for any way to save me from embarrassment. I know the only options left are ones that will make my cheeks flame like I swallowed a torch. I know some girls are good at hiding their feelings, but I’m not one of them. I’m a heart-on-the-sleeve, show-your-emotions kind of girl. If I ever get taken in by the cops for questioning, they won’t have to ask me a single question. They’ll just look at my face for the answer.

“Trust me on this, okay?” he says.

“What are you...” I begin, but Vale doesn’t hesitate. He leans forward and presses his cheek into the whipped cream. The side of his face is now snow white, covered with whipped cream. All I have to do is take one bite.

I smile, then lean forward and let my mouth taste the sweetness. When I do, a thrill surges through my body. I can smell Vale’s cinnamon scent mixed with the vanilla as the room erupts into cheering.

“Smart,” I say, licking the whipped cream from my lips. “I knew there was a reason I married you.”

“We make a good team,” Vale says to me with a wink. Every time he does that, it’s like the knot of tension in my body unravels a little bit.

After we’re freed from the zip ties, we cut into the teal-and-gold cake, reminiscent of the Crushers’ colors, and I attempt to follow the rules we set up. I stick close to Vale’s side, sometimes brushing my hand across his arm, or looping it under his elbow. At one point, Vale wraps his arm around my waist so casually, it makes my heart bounce around in my chest. He might be used to touching women this way, but I’m not. I feel like a total imposter at this marriage thing.

We finish the cake and ice cream, and Jaz motions me toward the front of the room with Vale. “We have one more surprise to present to you both. ”

She pulls out a large envelope and hands it to us. “The whole team went together on this. Even though the guys like to give you grief, we really do want you to live happily ever after. It’s a gift to say how happy we are that you’re together. There’s no one on earth I trust more than my brother-in-law.”

The guilt swells in my chest. I don’t have any reason to be nervous, but something ticks inside me, like a time bomb.

Vale looks at me. “Open it,” he says quietly.

I tear the flap and reach inside the envelope.

It’s a gift certificate for a hotel room in Cancun, Mexico.

I look up as Brax and Jaz beam at us.

“You guys didn’t have time for a honeymoon in Vegas, so we wanted to give you a second chance,” Brax says. “With the press hounding you about your news, we’re sending you away for a break.”

“The whole team chipped in for our honeymoon?” Vale says before he looks at me, his eyes wide.

“It was their idea,” Jaz says. “We just reserved the rooms.”

Vale pulls me into a hug, and a zing of panic rockets through me.

The idea of a honeymoon throws my whole body into a state of chaos.

“Thank you, everyone,” I say, choked up. Vale’s heartbeat thrums against my ear. “You have no idea how much this means to us.”

I glance at Vale. His smile is forced, and his eyes hold the same fear that’s pinballing through me.

“We’re going on a honeymoon,” he says, his gaze meeting mine. There’s no way we’re getting out of it.