Ember #2
Before I could scramble to put my walls back up, Jack dipped his head and kissed me.
Even though I’d known it was coming, it still startled a noise out of me.
I clung to him, to the fine knit of his black sweater and the bulk of his shoulders beneath.
His hand stroked my cheek as he kissed me longer and deeper than was strictly appropriate.
His stubble was rough, his scent heady. Spicy and subtle and male.
In an instant, I was on fire.
Tearing myself away from him, I blinked rapidly and tried to come back to myself while the world whirled around me.
His arm had wrapped around my waist. When had that happened?
I tried to pull away, and Jack resisted, holding me against his chest. His eyes burned.
Beneath my palm, his heart thudded. Not unaffected. Not repulsed.
Finally, he released me.
I rocked back on my heels, staring at the center of his chest, falling apart. My breaths were harsh in the silence of the chapel, my heartbeat thunder in my ears.
What had I done? What had I done?
“Well,” Etta Mars pronounced in a quiet voice that carried through the chapel. “That’ll do.”
I jerked my head up to scowl at her, and she gave me a sharp, all-knowing smile. Her eyes were glittering and all-seeing. A hand heavy with rings clasped the arm of the pew, and she hauled herself up to her feet. “Let’s sign the paperwork, and the two of you can get on with it.”
Whatever “it” was.
I was still trembling by the time the pen was placed in my palm.
The smell of ink was a sharp bite against the layers of old incense and wood in the chapel.
Vision hazy around the edges, I stared at the wedding certificate on the little wooden table at the side of the chapel, knowing in the depths of my heart that I should turn around and walk out.
Nothing good would come of this. My instincts screamed at me to run.
Glancing up, I met Jack’s gaze, and I frowned. I must’ve imagined the softness, the care. Now, his eyes were hard chips of ice again, his lips curled in a mocking smile. He arched a dark brow at me, challenging.
Steadier, I felt the walls around my heart knit themselves back together.
He was a conceited jerk who danced through life doing what he wanted.
Women fell over and spread their legs in his presence.
He took and took and took and thought he deserved it all.
Sure, he might care about his daughter and his grandmother, but he would never care about me.
And that was exactly as it should be.
We were entering into this marriage in order to both become considerably richer. Nothing more. Purely practical, the way I liked it. Things made sense when they were rational. Logically, this was the right decision.
And logic was my friend.
Whatever had happened at that altar didn’t mean anything.
I took the big ball of emotion that had risen up, and I shoved it deep, deep down inside me. It joined all the other emotions I’d suppressed over the nearly thirty years of my existence. My hand stopped trembling. I took another breath, and it eased through my lips without a hitch.
Yes, this marriage made sense. We had a contract. We had a deal. In a few months’ time—maybe a little longer, depending on how things went—we would divorce, shake hands, and that would be that.
Putting pen to paper, I signed.
When we walked out into the crisp fall afternoon, I inhaled the briny scent of the sea and took in the fluttering leaves that were beginning to change. Jack stood next to me, a wall of heat, a dark void of swirling energy that I couldn’t help but be intensely aware of.
I could sense the way he shifted on his feet, and even with my face turned away, I knew the moment his gaze landed on me. Seconds dripped by, and finally he touched my elbow. I turned.
In the golden sunshine, with a gentle breeze ruffling his hair, he was achingly beautiful. The kind of man who would never look twice at me.
Being married to him would be torture. Thankfully, it was temporary. And most importantly, it was fake.
“Let’s go see my daughter,” he said, and he led me down the steps.
JACK
She was quiet as we walked to our vehicles.
She had only a small purse slung over her shoulder, the thick knit of her sweater catching on her full hips.
I could see the shape of her through that prim, dark red skirt.
Her steps were measured, her face blank.
Everything about her was knotted so tightly that I wondered what it would take to pick her apart.
That was for another man to figure out. I gritted my teeth and tore my gaze away from her, refocusing on what really mattered. My daughter would be home from school soon, and I’d have to find the right words to tell her what I’d agreed to do.
Still, as I climbed into my SUV, I couldn’t help but glance over at Ember’s little sedan. I could see the line of her neck through the window, the way her chest rose and fell as she took a deep breath.
I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing myself to focus on what was important. My daughter. My freedom. The agreement I’d just made with my new, temporary wife.
And yet, the only thing that filled my mind in that moment was the memory of Ember’s gasp when I’d held her and kissed her. The way she’d trembled in my arms. The press of her soft, full lips against mine.
Leaning my head against the headrest, I shifted in my seat and pressed a palm against my crotch, willing my cock to soften. The one thing I couldn’t do was sleep with the woman I’d just made my wife.