Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 130414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)
All the air ripped from my lungs.
“What the fuck?!” Madison moaned, cupping his nostrils between pinched fingers. “I’ll call the police.”
Romeo feigned genuine interest, guiding his keycard into the reader with ease. “And tell them what? That you came all the way from the States to seduce another man’s wife?”
Madison wedged himself between Romeo and the door. “I want to talk to Dallas. I deserve some closure.”
I wondered what kind of heinous crimes I’d committed against the human race in a previous life to deserve these two nutjobs as my love interests. Worse—that if I wanted a baby, which I did, it would likely be with Romeo.
I sighed, nudging Madison aside with the tip of my stilettos, careful to avoid a bloodstain. “Could this not wait until we get back home? Sorry, Mad, but this is a bit … out of left field. Also, I should probably take you to the hospi—”
“He’ll see himself there.” Romeo swung the door open and guided me inside, blocking most of Madison from view with his broad shoulders. “It is not the first time a husband has broken Madison’s bones, and judging by his antics, it won’t be the last.”
Madison surged forward. “I didn’t even touch Charity.”
As I said—heinous crimes.
Romeo lifted a finger to his forehead and pushed, sending a light-headed Madison into the wall. “Next time I see you in my wife’s zip code, even God won’t be able to help you. Now clean yourself up. You’re making Americans appear as gauche as the French think us to be.”
He slammed the door shut. The thought of helping Madison crossed my mind for two seconds. Then I remembered he’d come here for a cause, and that cause was likely sabotaging my honeymoon or plotting something against my husband. At all costs. Even me.
Seemed like no one had my interests in mind but me. The more I thought about it, the more compelling I found getting knocked up. It would be the fastest way to get Romeo to send me back to Chapel Falls with my dignity and wedding ring intact. Surely, he’d tuck me where his family couldn’t see me. Maybe even grant me a divorce to ensure our child didn’t receive any Costa perks.
I rolled back my shoulders. Forget what just happened. Execute Operation Baby Maker. Yeah, there were obvious cons to my strategy, but even the slightest chance of having a baby and returning home prevailed.
Showtime.
“Before you whine about Madison’s nose …” Romeo tore off his blazer, hooking it on a rack. “I draw the line at other men. You are not, under any circumstances while wearing my ring, to conspire or fuck them. That’s not too much to ask.”
I didn’t say a thing. Couldn’t find it in me to reassure him. Plus, fighting would hinder my plans for tonight. I backed him into the door, planting a hand on his chest. Above his slow, steady heart. We stood like this for what felt like an eternity.
Finally, he scowled. “Are you casting a Henry Plotkin spell on me?”
Involuntary laughter bubbled in my throat, but I swallowed it. An entire scientific study could be conducted on how a man so cold could possess such penetrating warmth whenever his hands touched me.
I traced a heart over his. “I want you to teach me things.”
“Manners, I assume.”
“I was thinking more about … um, bed stuff.”
“Why? Sleeping seems to be your expertise.”
“Romeo. Be serious.”
He licked his lips. It was obvious he found the idea alluring. Our chests strained against one another. I traced his Adam’s apple.
He stopped me, clasping my wrist. “Why do I always have the feeling you’re playing a game with me, Shortbread?”
Because I am.
Peering at him beneath my lashes, I pouted. “All I want is for us to have a good time together on our honeymoon. I’m tired of feeling miserable.”
Then, to show him I meant business, I rolled the zipper down my gown, shrugging off the fabric. It cascaded down my body like a waterfall. Since I didn’t wear a bra or panties—the lines would have shown through the garment—I stood buck naked in front of him. His eyes roamed everywhere, caressing every inch of my body. For someone who tried very hard to make me feel bad, he wielded the odd ability to make me feel cherished.
His throat bobbed. I knew that, despite his flawless self-control, he wanted to do dirty, unspeakable things to me. He trailed a finger along my belly, my ribs, the outline of my breasts, lost in thought.
“I want to feel you inside me.” My gaze clung to his face. “Will you not consider it? Not even for our first time together?”
“No.” The word tore past his lips, croaky and hoarse. His touch sent flames of desire up and down my skin. “But if I start stretching your ass now, I can probably take it by next week after coming back from my Wednesday meeting in New York.”