Chapter 25
25
ADRIAN
I’m scanning through the quarterly earnings report on my tablet, sipping a strong cup of heavily sugared coffee, when Rowena pads into the kitchen. The sight knocks me off balance as I take in her attire—if you can call it that. She’s wearing a flimsy cotton slip, the thin fabric clinging to her curves and the hem barely reaching below her butt. My grip tightens on the tablet until my knuckles turn white.
“Morning,” she mumbles, stifling a yawn as she gathers her tangled waves into a messy bun atop her head. The motion makes the hem of her slip ride even higher up her smooth thighs.
“Morning,” I croak out, quickly averting my gaze back to the mind-numbing spreadsheets and charts on the screen. I need to focus on finishing this report. And it’s safer not to let my eyes linger on my dangerously sexy fake fiancée.
But as Rowena putters around the kitchen, crooning to herself while she spoons yogurt and granola into a bowl, my traitorous senses stay acutely attuned to her every move. The clink of the spoon against ceramic. The gurgle of coffee pouring into a mug. And the padding of her bare feet on the tiles.
“Thanks for making coffee.”
Rowena flashes me a sleepy smile. My heart thuds in response.
I grunt an acknowledgment, unable to muster actual words, still pretending to be engrossed in the financial data even as I track her in my peripheral vision. She settles into the chair next to me, her fruity scent and warmth permeating my space, scrambling my thoughts. I’m debating making an excuse to escape to my home office when my eyes flick over just as Rowena cups her breasts and starts massaging them through the thin fabric.
Holy fucking hell. All the blood rushes from my head in the opposite direction. And I’m pretty sure my bloodless brain short-circuits.
I can’t pretend anymore. My eyes are glued to the mesmerizing motion of her hands as they knead and caress her breasts. She makes these little sounds in her throat, somewhere between sighs and whimpers, that shoot straight to my groin. I’m simultaneously horrified and aroused, knowing I shouldn’t be watching but unable to look away.
“What are you doing?” I blurt out, my voice strangled.
Rowena turns to me, blinking innocently, as if she’s not currently groping herself mere inches from me. “Pregnancy makes my boobs hurt,” she says matter-of-factly. “My nipples have been hard and achy since I woke up. Touching them is the only thing that helps.”
“Please stop talking,” I beg, feeling heat crawl up my neck. I don’t need the audio description as well as the visuals.
She frowns at me, perplexed. “You’re the one who asked.”
I nod jerkily, swallowing hard past the desert that has become my throat. “Can you please stop… handling yourself like that?” I meant to keep my tone even, but it comes out slightly desperate.
Her brow furrows. “Why?” She seems genuinely clueless as to how her actions are affecting me.
Frustration mingles with the pounding desire in my veins. “Rowena, I’m a man with functioning eyes,” I grit out. “You can’t just parade around in next to nothing and start fondling yourself and making those little moans in front of me.”
Her mouth drops open in outrage. “I wasn’t moaning!”
As she processes the rest of my words, a slow, wondering smile spreads across her face. “You find me attractive.” She sounds awed. A pause, then she clarifies unnecessarily, “Sexually, I mean.”
She looks simultaneously amazed and delighted by this revelation, as if the thought had never occurred to her before. As if she didn’t know she’s the most beautiful, seductive woman I’ve ever seen. I can only nod mutely, not trusting my voice.
Rowena’s smile brightens as if I just paid her the highest compliment. “Thank you.” She looks me dead in the eye. “We should definitely have sex, then.”
I nearly choke on air. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I say, “We should most definitely not have sex.”
She takes a casual sip of her coffee, unbothered. “Hear me out.”
I adjust my posture, ready to shut this ridiculous idea down, but she barrels on.
“I find you attractive, you find me attractive.” Again, she says this last part as if it’s a novel concept. Wasn’t she there at my boss’s house when I basically groped her by the pool, or when I spooned her in bed? “And we agreed ours is a monogamous fake marriage, right? So technically, we can only sleep with each other.” She ticks off her points on slender fingers. “You can’t go to your secret sex dungeons while we’re pretending to be committed.”
I sputter indignantly. “For the last time, I do not frequent sex dungeons!”
Rowena waves a dismissive hand. “Semantics. The point is, it would be mutually beneficial to fool around a bit. And frankly, I’d like to enjoy sex again before my vagina is ripped apart like an over-ripe watermelon by this tiny human.” She pats her belly affectionately.
Cringing, I hold up a hand. “I could have gone my whole life without that visual, thanks.”
She shrugs, unrepentant. Then she pins me with a look, one brow arched. “So? What do you say? Wanna be fake spouses with benefits?”
“Absolutely not. We’re not having sex.” I purse my lips.
She frowns. “Why not? Is it because I’m pregnant? Everything still works fine down there. Better than fine, actually, with all the extra hormones, I’m basically horny all the time and?—”
“Please stop talking,” I beg, holding up a hand. “It has nothing to do with you being pregnant. It’s because sex would complicate an already confused situation. We need clear boundaries.”
“Ah.” Her eyes narrow and she sets down her yogurt bowl with a clatter. “Got it. Message received, attractive but not that attractive.” She stands abruptly, snatching up her mug.
“Rowena, that’s not what I?—”
“It’s fine,” she cuts me off, voice clipped. “I’m going to put on something more decent , since apparently my current attire is so repulsive to you. ”
She stomps off toward her bedroom. I drag a hand down my face, cursing under my breath. I handled that terribly. Pushing back my chair, I follow her, rapping my knuckles against her door.
“Rowena? Can we talk, please?”
Silence. Then the door flies open, revealing a still seething, still scantily dressed Rowena. Her cheeks are flushed from the argument, tendrils of hair escaping her bun, and damn if she doesn’t look even more tempting all riled up. I want to run my thumbs along the arch of her collarbones and lower to?—
Focus, West. “I’m sorry, I didn’t wish to offend you. Believe me, I find you incredibly attractive. Sexy as hell, even. I just… I’m trying to maintain some self-control here.” I scratch an imaginary itch on my arm. “Things are already complicated enough between us without adding sex into the mix.”
She props a hand on her hip, glaring up at me. “Wow, a man exercising restraint around me, how flattering. Really living the dream over here.”
I wince. “That’s not what I meant. I’m just saying?—”
“No, you know what? It’s fine. I only want to sleep with a man who can’t control himself around me, anyway. One who wants to rip my clothes off, consequences be damned.” She gives a careless shrug. “You’re off the hook. Don’t worry, I won’t proposition you again.”
And with that, she slams the door in my face. I stand there blinking at the hardwood paneling, wondering how the hell I’m going to survive the next several months living with this maddening, intoxicating woman without losing my fucking mind.