Page 78 of Thin Ice

“No, we just realized we forgot something,” she says.

“Which is?”

Quinn lifts on her tiptoes, lips hovering over mine for a split second before she plants a kiss to my lips, and my stomach flips for an entirely different reason now. When she pulls back, Noah steps forward next, his hand reaching up to cup my cheek.

He stares at me for what feels like minutes but is no time at all. That burning stare I was just thinking about is right in my line of vision. He leans forward and kisses me, the difference of pressure and sensation than Quinn’s kiss spiking goosebumps on my skin.

When it’s over, he strokes my cheek before stepping away. “See you tonight.”

Chapter twenty-seven

Noah

“You’re nervous,” Quinn says.

I look in the mirror at my wife’s approaching reflection. She’s beautiful, as always, but she’s even more so right now. She lightly curled her hair and did her makeup in a way that enhances her natural beauty. Her lips are painted a fuchsia pink that match the low-cut sundress she’s wearing, and the V-neck exposes the perfect amount of cleavage to make any man want to stick their face in it.

I run my hand covered in styling wax through my hair and huff when it doesn’t do what I want. “I’m not nervous.”

Quinn stands next to me in front of the double sink. “I thought we were being honest with each other.”

She softly hip-checks me, and I turn to look her in the eye. “We are, but I’m not nervous.”

Quinn crosses her arms over her chest, further accentuating her tits. “Eyes up here, buddy.”

I smirk and do as she asks. “Sorry, I was just thinking about all the things I could do to them. Motorboating included.”

I start to lean forward like I’m gonna do it, but she swats me playfully. “You’re changing the subject.”

“I told you, I’m—”

“—not nervous,” she interrupts. “I heard you, but you are. You’ve been in here trying to style your hair for thirty minutes.” She reaches up and pushes back a lock that had fallen onto my forehead. “You’ve never cared about your hair like this before.”

“Not true.”

She cocks an eyebrow at me. “Do you secretly style your hair when I’m not around?”

I snort. “No.”

“Then when?”

“Several times that I can think of,” I say. “Our first date, for one.”

Her eyes narrow. “Your hair was shorter when I showed up, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, because I got so annoyed with it I panicked and had my roommate buzz it.”

“Seriously?”

“I never told you that?” She shakes her head. “It’s true. I spent an hour trying to get it right, and when it kept sticking up, I decided you’d like it better short.”

“And the other times?”

“The day I proposed and our wedding day.”

Quinn steps closer, and I place my hands on her waist. She spends only a minute fixing my locks before she sets her palms on my chest, her blue eyes and smile warm as she admires her work. “For the record, your hair looks good even if you don’t style it.”

“And if I buzz it again?”