Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Ledger
“So, where are we starting, darling? Are you showing me your pussy or letting me lick it dry?”
I lean back in my chair, my lips curving into a slow, deliberate smirk as I watch her reaction. She’s tipsy—two glasses past tipsy, if I’m being honest—and her eyes widen for just a second before narrowing again.
“You’re ridiculous,” she mutters, grabbing her champagne glass like it’s the only thing saving her from me and this game. But I can see the way her lips twitch, fighting a smile.
“Ridiculous?” I echo, letting the word roll off my tongue. “No, sweetheart. Ridiculous would be not taking me up on the offer.”
Her gaze flicks to mine, cautious but intrigued, and I see it—the tiniest crack in her armor. She’s warming up to me, even if she doesn’t want to admit it.
“Why do you talk like that?” she asks, sounding genuinely curious.
“Like what?” I drawl, swirling the last bit of champagne in my glass.
“Like you’re auditioning for the role of the world’s filthiest man,” she retorts, lips fidgeting with the rim of her glass as if that’ll somehow hide the blush spreading across her cheeks.
I chuckle, low and deep, letting the sound fill the room. “Because that’s how I talk when I’m in the presence of a beautiful woman I want to fuck .” I say the last word slowly so it sinks in. “And know that I mean every word I say, darling. Though, if I didn’t think you’d enjoy it, I wouldn’t bother.”
Her breath catches, barely audible, but enough for me to notice. I stand, closing the distance between us in a few strides. She shifts slightly in her seat, her legs pressing together as she glances up at me, her expression somewhere between defiance and curiosity.
“Tell me something,” I murmur, resting my hands on the back of her chair and leaning down just enough to make her tilt her head back. “Why are you still sitting here, letting me say these things to you?”
Her lips part, but no words come out.
I study her. “You could’ve stormed out ten minutes ago. Hell, you could’ve thrown that champagne in my face.” I smirk, letting my voice drop lower. “But you didn’t. Want to know why?”
She swallows hard, her throat working against the tension. “Why?”
“Because you’re curious,” I say. “You’re wondering if my mouth is as good as it sounds. If I could make you forget every shitty thing that’s happened this week. If I could make you beg for more.”
She exhales shakily, her cheeks flushing deeper as her gaze flicks to my lips, then back to my eyes.
“You’re full of yourself,” she whispers, but there’s no heat in her words.
“Maybe,” I admit, my smile widening. “But I’m not wrong.”
She laughs, breathless and disbelieving, shaking her head like she can’t decide whether to push me away or pull me closer. “You’re unbelievable.”
“And yet, here you are,” I counter, straightening up just enough to let her breathe again.
She exhales like she’s been holding her breath the entire time. Her fingers tighten around the stem of her glass, her knees still pressed together so tight they might even fuse. I know I’ve gotten under her skin.
“Your move, darling,” I say, my voice light but laced with intent. “Truth or dare?”
“I thought you were the one about to dare me,” she counters, her gaze flicking to mine, teasing but cautious. “I just haven’t decided what I want yet.”
My lips twitch with amusement. “Take your time.”
She swirls the champagne in her glass, her expression turning contemplative. “Maybe I’m not drunk enough to ask you to fuck the memory of Chase away,” she muses, her tone low, almost to herself. Then her eyes flick back to me, glinting with a mix of boldness and vulnerability. “But I am tipsy enough to indulge in this conversation.”
“Is that so?” I ask, leaning forward slightly, my gaze steady on hers.
She pauses, biting her lip, and then blurts, “Aiden—my best friend from kindergarten. She told me to use you as my rebound guy.”
I chuckle softly. “Smart woman.”
“She said I should let you treat me like a dirty slut in bed,” she continues, her voice faltering slightly. “I never . . . Chase and I never even talked about what we liked, you know. We never talked dirty. It was all plain, blah, vanilla.”
I frown, caught off guard. “Never?”
She shakes her head, laughing bitterly. “We were so focused on the idea of the wedding and the future that we didn’t really talk about the present. And now that I think about it . . .” She trails off, taking a long sip of her champagne.
“Well, for the record,” I say, my tone softening, “I don’t do steady relationships. But I always make sure the woman I’m with tells me what she likes—and enjoys herself.” I pause, holding her gaze. “Sex is a lot about communication.”
She lets out a laugh, a real one this time, surprising both of us.
“What’s so funny?” I ask, intrigued.
Her smile widens, her cheeks flushed from the champagne—or maybe something else. “You can’t even communicate with your own family, but you expect me to tell you exactly what I want if I let you fuck me?”
I laugh, the irony hitting me square in the chest. “Fair point,” I admit, shaking my head. “But trust me, talking about sex is a hell of a lot easier than hashing out family drama. It’s too fucking messy.”
She laughs again, lighter this time, her shoulders easing as the tension between us shifts into something more comfortable. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she says, her voice still tinged with amusement.
“Please do,” I reply, leaning back in my chair and raising my glass. “Because if you ever want to take your best friend’s advice, I’m more than happy to oblige. You have seven days to enjoy yourself and there are a lot of things we can do in this bedroom—or outside it. I heard there’s a nudist beach nearby.”
She yawns, her hand instinctively covering her mouth as her eyelids droop slightly. The champagne must finally be catching up with her.
“I’ll think about it,” she murmurs, her voice softer now, almost sleepy.
I watch her for a moment, amused by how quickly her feisty energy has melted into something gentler. Her glass wobbles slightly in her hand, so I lean forward, plucking it from her grasp before it slips.
“Alright, darling,” I say, setting the glass down with mine. “I think that’s enough champagne for one night.”
She blinks up at me, her brows furrowing as if she’s about to argue, but another yawn interrupts her.
“I’m fine,” she protests weakly, even as her head tilts back against the chair, her body relaxing.
“Sure you are,” I reply, amused by her face. She’s pretending to be awake while her eyes are almost closed. I stand, moving around the table to her side. She doesn’t resist when I take her hand, helping her to her feet.
Her balance wavers slightly, and she leans into me, her warmth pressing against my side. “You’re bossy,” she mutters, her words slurring just a touch.
“And you’re tipsy,” I counter, guiding her toward the bed. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you to bed before you pass out right here.”
She mumbles something incoherent, her words slurring as she tries to steady herself, but her legs barely cooperate. I sigh, amused despite myself.
“Alright, that’s enough,” I mutter.
Without giving her a chance to argue, I slide one arm beneath her knees and the other around her back, lifting her in one smooth motion. Her head falls against my chest, her fingers instinctively clutching at my shirt as her lips part in surprise.
“You don’t have to—” she starts, but her voice falters, replaced by a soft sigh as she rests her cheek against me.
“Relax,” I say, the corner of my mouth twitching into a smirk. “Think of it as part of the honeymoon experience.”
She lets out a sleepy laugh, barely audible, but she doesn’t pull away.
Carrying her across the room, I can feel her warmth against me, her breathing slowing with each step. When I reach the bed, I shift her gently, lowering her onto the mattress with care. She sinks into the sheets, her body curling slightly as she exhales.
“You’re annoyingly nice for someone with such a dirty mouth,” she murmurs, her eyes fluttering closed.
I tug the blanket up over her, smoothing it around her shoulders. “Sweet dreams, darling,” I say quietly, my voice softer now.
Her lips twitch into a faint smile, and within moments, her breathing steadies, her face relaxing completely.
For a moment, I just stand there, watching her, caught off guard by how peaceful she looks. It’s a far cry from the fiery woman I’ve been sparring with since I arrived, and yet, somehow, both versions of her are captivating.
Maybe this week will be more interesting than I thought.