Chapter 20
Skylar
“What? Why not?” I hear the words coming out of my mouth, and it sounds like I’m desperate.
But I don’t care. Until this moment, I wasn’t aware how much I want him to make love to me.
He left me in my bed and walked away, but in some corner of my mind, I was sure it was only a matter of time before he did.
In fact, the romantic part of me wondered if he was saving making love for the first time on our wedding night.
So what if this is a marriage of convenience?
The chemistry between us is off the charts, and Nate’s a virile man.
He’s not going to deny himself. Not when it’s clear being together is going to be good for both of us… Unless he doesn’t want me?
“You don’t want me,” I say flatly.
He frowns. “What do you mean?”
“Is it because I’m not the kind of woman you normally go for?”
“You’re not making any sense.”
“Oh, you want me to spell it out; fine. I’m a big woman. I have curves. My size dresses are difficult to find. I have large tits and huge hips.”
“O-k-a-y?” He looks genuinely confused.
I squeeze my fingers around my phone. Men. How dumb can they be? Do you have to spell out every single detail to them and slap them over the head with it, and even then, they don’t get it?
“Argh!” I shake my head. Then, with my free hand, gesture to my figure. “I’m a plus-size girl.”
“So?”
“So, I’m fat. And you, clearly, are not the kind of man who wants to bed someone of my dimensions.”
His forehead clears. “You think because you’re curvaceous—"
“That’s a diplomatic way of putting it.”
“—I don’t find you attractive?”
“Clearly, you don’t. You put me to bed but didn’t undress me. You slept on top of the covers. Then, told me what happened between us was a mistake, and then you left.”
He squeezes the bridge of his nose, his massive chest rises and falls, then he lowers his hand. “Let me get this right. You think I find you unappealing—"
“You do.”
“—because I didn’t take off your clothes when you were sleeping, and didn’t fuck you while I was at it, and then left in the morning.”
“And you told me it was a mistake.”
“I did not—"
I tighten my lips. “Are you denying—"
“I said, what happened between us shouldn’t have; I didn’t say it was a mistake.”
“Oh.” I bite the inside of my cheek. “But I thought—" I shake my head, trying to recall his exact words. “Doesn’t matter what you said. It was a rejection.”
“I’m sorry it came across like that. I wanted to leave before I did something I would regret.”
“Like sleeping with me?”
He nods.
“But why? Why can’t you, uh—"
“Fuck you?”
“Why not, Nathan?”
“You’re Ben’s sister. You’re my best friend’s little sister.”
“I’m aware. And he’s going to find out about us at some point.”
The wrinkle between his forehead deepens. “Doesn’t make me feel any better about desiring you. If I had a choice, I’d—"
“Prefer not to be attracted to me?”
“Yes,” he says without hesitation.
A knot of hurt tightens in my chest. My throat closes. “So, I was right. You don’t want me.”
“Didn’t you hear what I said? I am so attracted to you, I can’t think straight when you’re around.”
“You have a funny way of showing it; you—" I gasp, for he’s grabbed my free hand and placed it on the tent between his legs.
The unmistakable bulge which fills my palm seems to grow bigger under my touch.
The heat of his arousal soaks through his pants and sinks into my skin.
The pulse between my legs throbs in response.
I try to pull my hand away, but he holds it captive.
He swipes my palm up the column between his thighs, and a groan rumbles up his chest.
“Fuck.” He grits his teeth. “Now do you see how much I want you?”
I manage to nod, my gaze fixed on the flush which stains his cheekbones, the beat of his pulse at his temple, the tic at his jaw, the way his heterochromatic eyes blaze with a blue-gold fire that tells me he’s this close to losing control.
And oh, I so want him to. He’s always been the unapproachable one.
The confident one. The one who rejected me first, and again.
The one who’s been able to walk away from me.
To see the naked desire on his features, the need in his eyes, the evidence of his arousal, hot and throbbing under my palm, the way the tendons of his throat stand out in relief, like the mountains jutting out from the earth you see on a flight path…
All of it tells me, he has a hankering for me.
So then, why doesn’t he do something about it?
That’s right, my brother. I hold up my phone. “Call him.”
“What?”
“Call my brother. Leave him a message and tell him we’re together. Tell him you want to marry me. He has to find out at some point. Why not now? Let’s put this issue to bed, once and for all, so you can take me to bed.”
That strange look I’ve seen a couple times earlier flits across his features. It’s a mixture of confusion and sadness and resolve. He reaches for my phone and tosses it over his shoulder, so it hits the bed.
“Why did you—"
He shakes his head. “We don’t want to disturb him when he’s on a mission and weaken his concentration.”
“But—" I begin, but he cuts me off again.
“Trust me. I’ve been there. When you’re away from home and missing everything and everyone—even though you convince yourself you aren’t.
When you focus on the directives you’ve been given and try to carry them out, even though you may not agree with all of it.
When you convince yourself the high you get from putting your life on the line is something you enjoy, even though the reality is that you’re shitting bricks… ”
I can’t stop the giggle that spills from my lips.
It’s a nervous sound, but it draws a quirk of his lips, and OMG, that smirk on his lips is so hot.
Also, his cock jumps under my hand. My pussy clenches in response.
My belly trembles. The smile fades from my lips.
Our gazes hold, and the sparks that fly between us could light a cigar.
This time, when I tug my hand, he releases it.
“So, you see, I do want you. Very much.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.
I shiver. “But you don’t want to make love to me?”
He shakes his head. “Oh, I want to, but I can’t. You’re Ben’s little sister. I can’t betray him.”
I roll my eyes. “I am also my own person. And once we’re married—”
“It’s not a real marriage.”
“It’s a real marriage when it suits you, not otherwise. Typical,” I burst out.
“Starling, I—” he begins, but I hold up a hand.
“You won’t make love to me, even when we’re married?”
“Not even then,” he says softly.
I tilt my head. “But it’s okay if I make you come?”
His gaze narrows. I can sense the thoughts whirring behind his eyes, which widen when I sink to my knees.