Liam: This is your husband. 
I thought you should have my number.
Emily: How’d you get mine?
Clearly, he hadn’t known Owen had given her his digits.
Liam: This is me we’re talking about.
God, he even winked in his texts. Why did he have to be so frustratingly sexy and charming?
Emily: Good point.
She clutched the phone, considering what to say next.
So they got drunk and married and became a TV clichΓ©—why not own it, at least?
Emily: I’d expect nothing less from my husband.
Liam: And now I kind of want to come back up there and kiss you like I wanted to before.
She almost dropped the phone. Holy shit.
Emily: You never told me—what do you remember from Vegas?
Liam: Probably more than you. Because I remember how you kiss. How you taste.
A blazing trail of heat traveled from her stomach down to between her legs, and she closed her eyes, trying like hell to remember more of that night.
She forced her eyes open at the next alert.
Liam: I should probably turn off my phone before I get myself into more trouble.
Liam: Goodnight, Emily.
She was going to need her emergency stash of Oreos tonight.
And more wine.
Hell, a lot more wine.
Learn more ~ mybook.to/FHChance
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