Chapter 19 #2
Mira curls up on a chair by the window, peering across the Cumberland River. The lights below us are spectacular, and the floor-to-ceiling windows create an unobstructed view of the city. It’s too bad that it doesn’t hold a candle to my wife.
She looks at me. “Look at what?”
I hold up a small round cake with the congratulations printed on top. “They sent us a tiny wedding cake.”
“You’re going to demolish that in the middle of the night, aren’t you?”
“Probably.” I chuckle. “Where do you want to eat?”
She looks around. “I don’t know. Right here?”
I place our food on the coffee table and then sit in the chair across from her.
We get situated and then eat quietly, pausing to comment about the juiciness of the burger or the crispiness of the fries.
I’d love to know what she’s thinking—what’s going through her pretty little head—but I don’t ask.
With Mira, you can push too hard without knowing it.
Finally, she dusts her hands off and finishes her Coke. “You know what’s weird?”
“What’s that?” I ask.
“I keep having to remind myself that we’re married because this feels so … normal. And I can’t figure out if that’s a good sign or a bad one.”
“It’s not like we haven’t ever shared a meal before bed.”
She holds up her ring finger, and the diamond that I picked out sparkles. “This isn’t normal.” A grin kisses her lips as she twists her hand to inspect it again. “This is beautiful, Hart. Like, seriously beautiful. It makes me feel bad. I don’t know how much you spent, but it’s too much.”
“I had some extra cash.”
“Okay.” She laughs, shaking her head. “Although I think you’ve lost your mind, I love it. It’s perfect. And I’ll give it back once this is over—”
“Hush.”
Her brows wrinkle. “What? It wouldn’t be fair to keep this. It had to have cost you a fortune.”
I set my empty Coke on the table and sigh. “The cost doesn’t matter. It’s my money—well, it’s ours now, I guess. But—”
“Hart …”
“I’m not going to think about what happens next year every day until then.” I search her eyes. “I know we have our rules, and I’m well aware of the terms of this agreement, but can we just not go there?”
She sinks back against the cushion and nods slowly. A somberness crosses her features for the briefest moment before she smiles at me again.
My heart pounds as I await her response.
I’m not asking her to pretend that this is real, and I hope she doesn’t take it that way.
Sure, that would be nice, but I’m not convinced that it would be in either of our best interests.
All I want is to be able to have a conversation, to enjoy a day with my wife, and not think about divorce.
“You’re right,” she says, yawning. “Not about the ring, but about everything else.” She stands, stretching her arms over her head until the shirt barely covers her ass. “You ready for bed?”
My eyes are glued to the hem of her shirt until it returns to its original position. “Sure.”
“I saw that,” she says, smirking. “Be glad you’re my husband, or I’d tell you to mind your business.”
I smirk back at her, standing, too. “You’ve never once told me to mind my business.”
“Would you have listened if I did?” she asks as I follow her into the bedroom.
“Depends.”
“On what?” She stops at the foot of the bed and faces me. “On whether you liked the guy I was dancing with or not?”
I take a step closer to her, watching her pupils dilate. “If someone’s grabbing your ass and you’re smacking at him to stop, whether we’re married or not, you are my business.”
Her eyes twinkle. “Oh, really?”
“Yup.”
“What about now that I am your wife?”
My wife.
It’s a challenge, a sexy dare that threatens to unravel my restraint. Her lips press together in a cheeky taunt that makes my blood go red-hot.
My pulse kicks in hard as I close the distance between us. Every instinct is to pick her up and throw her on the bed, which is what I’d do if we didn’t have all these prearranged rules. Normally, I’d want to have her, reminding her that I still exist and she shouldn’t forget me.
This time, though, I want to possess her. Not out of dominance or control, but out of a fierce need to show her that she’s protected, cherished, and completely mine in a way she’s never been before.
“Now that you’re my wife,” I say, touching her pout with the tip of my finger. “No one will get close enough to you to grab your ass, so that won’t be an issue.”
Her lips part before I register it, and she gently bites the tip of my finger.
It’s like being lit on the outside and threatened not to burn.
Every instinct is screaming at me to finish closing the distance and take what she’s offering. Fighting the urge is like holding a piece of live wire with my bare hands. I’m one breath away from losing this battle, and I can’t let that happen.
I draw my hand away from her mouth, feeling her teeth scrape against my skin. It’s a shot straight to my groin—a deliberate attempt to see how far I can be stretched. It’s exhilarating and maddening at the same time.
I fill my lungs with air. “Take the bed. I’ll take the floor.”
She leans away, her eyes as wide as saucers. “Excuse me?”
“I said I’ll take the floor.” I swipe my bag off the floor and carry it with me into the en suite. “Just toss me a pillow, and I’ll grab an extra blanket from the closet.”
“You’re not sleeping on the floor, Hart.”
I peel my clothes off down to my boxer briefs and make quick work of brushing my teeth.
“Why not?” I ask before I rinse my mouth.
“Because people walk there. I don’t know. It’s gross. I can sleep in the chair in the living room.”
“My wife is not sleeping in a fucking chair while I sleep in a bed. Abso-fucking-lutely not.” I turn off the bathroom light and find the extra blanket that I prayed was there. “You. Bed.”
“I feel bad,” she says.
“Don’t.” I ignore the way she looks, sitting in the middle of the bed with her hair now around her shoulders, and spread the blanket on the floor. Then I slide a pillow off the mattress and toss it on the floor. “Good night, Mira.”
She reaches over and flips the switch by the bed, making the room dark. The only light comes through the windows because we didn’t close the curtains. It’s just enough to cast a warm, hazy glow through the room.
“Night, Hart.”
I unfold my body onto the floor, taking care not to groan as I try to get situated. My senses are in overdrive, and I hear every breath she takes above me.
If I reached far enough, I could touch her. When I breathe, I’m met with her scent. I’m acutely aware of her proximity and state of undress, and it’s too much to process after the day that we’ve had.
I take my cock in my hand and squeeze, sucking in a breath as I imagine the tightness coming from her pussy.
This is why I arranged for two beds.
“Hey, Hart,” she asks, a tease to her tone.
I clear my throat. “Yeah?”
“Our agreement was no sex, right?”
“Do you have to remind me?” I ask, groaning.
Her giggle makes me smile.
“But that was to keep lines from being blurred, right?” she asks, her voice growing higher.
“Yeah. I suppose.” Where’s she going with this? “Probably a smart idea. Not my favorite one by any stretch of the imagination, but smart.”
“But you and I would have sex every now and then, right?” She rolls over to the edge of the bed, peering down at me.
“It’s going to be a long twelve months. Maybe the rules don’t apply until we’re back in Sugar Creek.
” Her grin turns mischievous. “Maybe we should just fuck and get it out of our system.”
Shit.