Judging Judas (Tarnished Saints Series Book 3) by Elizabeth Rose Page B

asked.
    “Just carrying my bride over the threshold of our new house.” He closed the car door with his foot and hurried up the steps, shifting her in his arms and causing her to slip.
    “Don’t drop me,” she cried out.
    “I need the keys. They’re in my front pocket.” He looked at her and raised a brow, and his face glowed a warm orange in the porch light.
    “And you are telling me this . . . why?”
    “I need you to get them for me. You can probably reach better.”
    “No, I can’t . Now just put me down and get them yourself.”
    He did as instructed and seemed to have a hard time getting the keys out of his pants pocket. When she looked down and saw the bulge straining against his zipper she knew why. He just cleared his throat and unlocked the door and went to pick her up again.
    “Really, I’m capable of walking.” She opened the door and walked inside and he followed.
    Once inside the house, he leaned over and kissed her. “We’re married,” he told her in a soft voice.
    “Yes, I know,” she answered just as softly. There was an awkward silence and then they both started to talk at the same time, and ended up laughing.
    “Go ahead,” he said. “Ladies first.”
    “I just wanted to say, I’m a little nervous for some reason,” she admitted.
    “Yeah,” he said with a nod of his head. “Me too. It’s been such a long time, Laney.”
    “Too long,” she said, noticing the look of sadness wash over his face.
    “If you want to slow it down and . . . wait . . . I’ll understand.”
    Time stood still and she drifted back to when they were teenagers. They’d both been young and wild and willing to do anything crazy. They hadn’t thought twice about their actions then, and J.D. was proof of it.
    “I feel as if I want to be young again,” she told him.
    “You’re only thirty-four, sweetheart, not ninety,” he said, running his hand over her hair and pulling her closer in a hug, wrapping his arms around her.
    “Do you ever wonder what it would have been like if we’d gotten married that day when we were just teenagers?” she asked.
    “Every day.” He leaned forward and kissed her once again. “But we can’t live in the past. We need to move forward.”
    That brought her back to her senses, and all apprehension left her. His words were very wise indeed. And this is the same thing she’d always told her clients when she led her meditation and self-awareness classes to live in the now, not the past. It was exactly what she needed to hear.
    “ So did you want to carry me to the bed or are we going to stand in the hallway talking all night?” she asked with a large smile.
    “You’re not going to have to ask me again,” he said, scooping her up and rushing her to the bedroom, depositing her on the bed. Then he put down his duffle bag and hung his uniform on the closet doorknob. The light from the hallway spilled into the room, but it was still very dark. He reached for the bedside lamp but she laid her hand on his arm and stopped him.
    “I’d like to leave it dark.”
    “All right. It’s more romantic and mysterious I suppose,” he answered.
    “Of course,” she said, feeling bad that she wasn’t being truthful. But she didn’t want him to see her less than perfect body, as well as the tattoo on her butt. Not yet. Especially since it was a tattoo of a spider, symbolizing her late husband. She’d never wanted to get it, but her late husband had talked her into it. He’d really wanted to brand her as his, she’d realized afterwards. And she so foolishly also got the words tattooed along with it saying Laney loves Spyder .
    “Laney, you look so beautiful just lying there with the light spilling across your face.” He yanked at the knot on his tie, loosening it, then pulled it off and flung it onto the foot of the bed.
    “You’re not so bad yourself,” she told him, looking up to him coyly.
    He removed his shirt next, and she found herself gasping at the sight of his bare