Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Sasha
I drag my feet as I get ready for bed, not ready to face the bedroom.
It’s only like nine o’clock, though my body feels like it’s midnight, I’m so exhausted.
But how am I going to be able to sleep?
The man who might scare me even more than my father is going to be sleeping next to me.
I don’t even have the illusion of privacy in this arrangement.
And then there is the attraction.
I shouldn’t feel it. It makes everything more complicated. But where he looks like a beast of a man, his touch feels…like the kiss of an angel.
“Coming?” he calls from the bedroom, and I spin around like he’s going to appear in the door.
He said we could take this at my pace, so maybe he’ll let me sleep in another room?
I draw in a ragged breath, and I slowly walk out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. He sits propped up on pillows, shirtless, the covers falling around his hips as he looks at his phone.
I stop to stare because, wow, he’s just…
Muscles, covered in tattoos, ripple down his body, washboard abs disappearing under the crisp white sheet.
“Ryker?” His name feels foreign on my tongue as I stop halfway between him and the bed.
His gaze lifts from the phone, dragging up my body, his nostrils flaring the slightest bit as he takes me in. “Princess.”
No one thinks I’m a princess. Katarina is royalty. I’m the jester. “I don’t…don’t have to sleep in here. I could go sleep on the couch or maybe another bed.” My hands twist together as I nip at my lip.
He pats the bed next to him. “I promised you safety. Next to me is the safest place for you to be.”
I forget myself and let out a soft snort.
His brows hitch up.
“You are the person I was most frightened of twenty-four hours ago,” I say by way of explanation.
A ghost of a smile touches his lips. “Scarier than your father?”
“Maybe. At least I know what he wants from me,” I mutter back.
“You know what I want?” But his gaze has grown dark again. It’s the black that I don’t like and I take a step back.
His eyes close and I watch him draw in a deep breath. When he opens them again, he looks more relaxed. “Come lay down, Sasha. I’ll stay on my side.”
I nip at my lip as I tiptoe over to the edge of the bed. Slowly, I pull back the covers and fold myself under them, drawing them back up to my chin.
Then I turn on my side, facing away from him, and squeeze my eyes shut, curling into a ball.
I hear him get up and my eyes fly open again, but he only crosses the room to turn out the light before I hear him return to the bed, the covers shifting as he sinks back in.
For a minute, the dark silence settles between us. But my mind, despite being exhausted, won’t quiet.
Finally, I turn toward my…husband…who is still sitting up looking at his phone. “You said we could move at my pace.”
“I did.” He sets the phone down and looks over at me.
“Does that mean if I never wanted to…” I lick my lips, trying to ask the question I never thought I’d speak.
“You don’t want to have sex?” I feel him tense.
“Well, it’s not like we have feelings for each other. In fact, yesterday, I thought you hated me.”
“Enjoyable sex, in my experience, doesn’t require liking each other, it only needs attraction.”
I consider those words as I pull myself up to sitting. “You’re sure about that?”
“Sure.”
Cocking my head, I look over at him. “I’ll have to take your word for it. Feelings are not my specialty.”
“No?” he turns to me then. “We might be in trouble, because they aren’t mine either.”
That makes me start in surprise. “Do you also struggle with what people mean when they’re not telling you the truth?”
His jaw works before he answers. “No. I just don’t like letting my feelings show.”
“Oh, I wish I had that problem. Everyone seems to know how I feel.” I let out a long breath, wishing that I could be different. “But also, I struggle to fake stuff. I’m in or I’m out, you know?”
“No. I don’t know,” he answers with a shrug. “But I can offer you some perspective. You want a temporary arrangement and so do I. There is no reason it can’t be…enjoyable.”
I chew on my lip as I consider those words. Enjoyable is good. But vulnerable is bad. And because I’m more timid, but also, more open, I struggle to feel…valued. “I’ll think about it.”
He nods and then picks his phone back up. The fact that he’s not interested in me tonight actually makes me feel better, and I find myself relaxing into the bed as I lay back down.
This has been way more comfortable than I ever imagined. Whatever I pictured as I stood at the altar, it wasn’t this.
It was pain and suffering, I know that much. But as I drift off to sleep, I wonder if anything good might come of this marriage.
I’m not under my father’s or my brother’s control. Ryker seems to know what I want, and he’s promised to give it to me. Both thoughts are heartening as I curl into a tighter ball, comforted by the large form of Ryker beside me. Before I know it, I’ve fallen asleep.
I wake in the pitch dark, warm and cozier than I can remember being in a long time.
Part of me doesn’t want to move, but my hip is getting stiff and so I go to roll on my stomach, only to realize that there is a wall of warm hard flesh that makes it impossible.
I gasp, lifting my head, when a large hand squeezes my ass. “Where do you think you’re going?”
My eyes adjust to the dark and I lift my head to look around. At some point, I’ve shifted to his side of the bed.
I snuggled up to my mafia husband, the one who blackmailed me, and then married me when he ran out of options. Man, I am a glutton for punishment. “I’m sorry,” I say as I press my palm to the rippling muscles of his chest and push. “I didn’t mean…”
His leg shifts and that’s when I realize that my leg is wound around his, our skin sliding against each others, the throbbing space between my legs pressed against his outer thigh.
And the movement of his leg…
It creates this beautiful pulsing ache. He squeezes my ass again, creating more pressure and I gasp before I can hold it in.
I’m only in a thong, the T-shirt I’m wearing—his T-shirt—has ridden up to just below my breasts.
I swear his palm engulfs one entire cheek of my ass, as he squeezes again. That’s when I realize that I’m completely wet and likely leaking all over his leg.
Jesus, that’s messed up.
I jolt away, rolling toward the edge of the bed. Sitting up, the fabric falls back down over my hips but not before he gets a show.
I spring off the bed, bolting for the bathroom. Once I’m inside, I close the door, clicking the lock.
What just happened? How could I let myself…
I press myself against the back of the door.
“Sasha?” he rumbles, clearly standing on the other side of the door.
“I’ll be right out,” I squeak, sinking to the floor.
“There is nothing wrong with touching your husband while you’re sleeping. It’s expected, desirable even.”
“Desirable?” I croak. Because I know that this is not desirable. I need to keep my head, but my body is taking over.
“Come back to bed, Princess. We’ve got a busy day tomorrow.”
“Doing what again?” I ask, pushing up from the floor and off the door to cross to the sink and splash water on my face.
“Shopping. You need clothes.”
That makes me stop midway across the bathroom. “You’re going to take me shopping?” I don’t know what I thought. Of course, I’m not going by myself. I don’t do anything alone.
“I’m your husband,” he answers simply. “Last time I checked, shopping with your wife was one of the duties.”
I cross back to the door, turn the knob and open the door.
He stands on the other side in nothing but boxer briefs, his powerful arms crossed over his massive chest.
He looks large, intimidating, and gorgeous. “You’re going to take me shopping?”
“I already told you, Princess. You’re mine to take care of.”
And then he reaches out, wraps his hands around my ass, and pulls my body into the cradle of his.
I don’t resist as my skin slides against his, his warmth wrapping around me. I swear, the combination of his scent and the feel of his skin slows my heart rate, making me relax in ways I haven’t in years.
It’s the strangest mixture of contentment and excitement as my fingers fan out on his bare chest.
I shouldn’t enjoy his touch like this. He’s a temporary addition to my life with a definite end date.
And it isn’t like he feels any real affection for me. He’s obligated to be my protector, nothing more.
But obligated from Ryker feels far better than the derision my father didn’t hide.
Maybe, just maybe, my fortunes are finally turning around.