Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 90642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were acting jealous again. But that would be very stupid, right?”
I lean forward, one hand on the glass next to her head, my face inches from hers. “There’s nothing to be jealous of, wifey. You’re all mine.”
“I am?” She pouts and puts her hands on my chest. Fuck, I love it when she touches me, and I like it when she pushes her lips out like that. I think of kissing her last night and how badly I wanted to do more. “You keep on acting like a big, strong caveman, but it’s not like I’m getting any of the benefits of my possessive husband.”
I clench my jaw. “Don’t fucking tease me.”
“I’m not teasing.” Her fingers grip my chest muscles and I swear she just licked her lips. “You keep on acting like you don’t want me, but we both know the truth.”
“You fucking tempting me right now?” I lean in closer, voice pitched low, feeling like my body might vibrate into dust. My cock’s hard and I’m not shy about pushing myself against her. Yeah, she notices, and her breath comes in quicker. “You think that’s a good idea?”
“I think you won’t do it,” she whispers, tilting her chin up in challenge. “I think you talk a big game, but when the time comes to actually put up or shut up, you won’t come through.”
My teeth feel like they’re going to break. My fingers dig into the glass. Fucking hell, I want to slam her around and fuck her here and now, rip into her beautiful body, make her moan and say my name, but she’s right. I hate it, but she’s right, because every time I get within an inch of going too far, I remember why I haven’t crossed the line yet.
“Go ahead,” she says, voice still low. “You can back off now. I know you want to.”
“That’s not what I want,” I say, but I take a step away.
She looks disappointed. I figured she’d be smug, but that’s not it at all. She only shakes her head and walks around to the passenger side, and I have to take a second to get myself together before climbing in. The drive back to my place is uncomfortable.
Chapter 17
Elena
Brody decorated, but I feel like it doesn’t count.
The place looks like it’s straight out of a magazine. Honestly, it’s beautiful, but it’s beautiful like a museum. There’s a freaking ceramic duck in his kitchen, and I can’t imagine he’d ever want something like that around while he cooks. I even tell him that, which only makes him laugh. Everything’s stale, too new, too stiff. Even the couch feels like it’s not meant for a human. There are no personal touches, no indications that there’s a man inside that shell he wears.
But the more I’m around him, the more I catch glimpses. He’s repressing himself, holding himself back, and I haven’t fully figured out why yet. I get he’s worried that if we start going hard on each other and fucking like we very obviously want to that he’s going to get distracted and bad stuff might happen. Fine, I can understand it. But he’s also hiding himself from me, and I don’t like that.
We’re supposed to be partners. Except I feel like I don’t know him at all.
I make it my mission to get to know him, even though it becomes very clear that he’s not interested.
“Come on, you have to like a movie,” I say as he sits behind the desk in his home office, looking annoyed. I pace back and forth across the room, picking up books that have clearly never been read, putting them back down, flopping onto his reading chair, throwing myself back to my feet, and starting the process over again.
“I like Trainspotting,” he says reluctantly.
“Wow, the man has an opinion.” I put my hand to my chest. “It’s incredible. Someone call the papers.”
“You’re absolutely impossible,” he grumbles, looking annoyed as he pretends to work. “Maybe living together is a bad idea.”
“No, no, this was what you wanted, and now you have me all to yourself.” I bat my eyelashes at him and sit on the edge of his desk. “What’s your favorite cold dessert?”
He buries his face in his hands and groans. “Ice cream. Vanilla ice cream.”
I snort. “Vanilla. Yeah, that sounds right.” I lean toward him. “I’m more of a chocolate girl myself.”
“I’ll buy you an entire ice cream parlor right now if you’ll let me get some work done.”
“I’m rich, remember?” I hop down and go back to pacing. “I didn’t marry you for your money.”
“You do know that I’m an actual lawyer, right?” He leans back in his chair.
“Hey, there’s something I haven’t asked about. What sort of law do you practice?”