Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 94915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
“I want you to let me go.”
His grip tightens on my waist and he roughly pulls me closer. “Why are you being like this? I tried to give you space. I tried to wait you out. But apparently, you’re stubborn as fuck, and that isn’t happening. So now I’m making the first move.”
“If you think this is a move—” I jerk myself back. “Then you must be a crazy person.”
“We’re married, Brianne—”
“Fake married,” I amend, interrupting him.
“—yes, but we’re still married, whether you like it or not. We share a space, an apartment, a life, and you can’t just pretend like I don’t exist forever. You have to talk to me sometime.”
“I’m not trying to be like that,” I say, deflating a little bit. He’s being—not exactly reasonable, but understandable at least. From his perspective, we had one night of sin, got together and did some admittedly very, very good sex stuff, and now I’m treating him like he doesn’t exist.
“Then what are you being like?” He stares at me, strangely intense and earnest all at once.
“I’m trying to protect myself.”
His grip lessens. I could get away if I wanted, but I don’t. I like the way he’s touching me and the way he looks at me, and it doesn’t help that all he’s trying to do is understand why I’ve been avoiding him.
And how am I supposed to explain it? Sorry, husband, you ate me out so good I decided we can’t speak or else I’m going to ride your dick into sweet oblivion?
Not exactly the best look for my dignity, even if that’s the truth.
“You don’t have to protect yourself from me.”
I almost laugh. “Actually, I really, really do.”
“You’re my—”
“Stop saying wife, okay? We both know this is a deal. You only married me because you wanted to avoid some girl named Collette.”
“And because I wanted a deeper connection back to the Hayes Group,” he says gently, shaking his head. “That doesn’t really change anything. We’re in this now, and we’re in it together. You can’t keep walking around my apartment, pretending like I don’t exist. I won’t have it.”
“You won’t have it?” I finally do bark out a laugh. “What, are you getting all controlling caveman on me now? Are you going to throw me over your shoulder, carry me into your room and claim me?”
His eyes smolder and I realize that was the exact wrong thing to say.
“You’d fucking like that,” he says, pulling me tight again, his hips pressing to mine. I’m breathing hard at the smell of his slightly damp and sweaty body. It’s musky, but not overpowering—almost sweet and sensual. His lips part, and I stare at his tongue. The tongue that did some very incredible things to my body not that long ago.
“I just need space.”
“And I’m tired of giving it to you.” He bends down and his lips brush against my neck. I’m breathing fast now, heart racing wild and out of control. “No more pretending like I don’t exist.”
“Since when do you get to make these decisions?”
“Since I decided I’m tired of playing your game. You’re mine, Brianne. You’re my wife. Fuck the reasons we started this. I won’t have you pretending like I’m invisible.”
“If I promise to start saying good morning, will you let me go?”
“Not good enough.” He kisses my neck and I let out a whimper. An actual, honest whimper, which basically proves to him how much I want this. “I want you sleeping in my bed.”
My mouth drops open. “Absolutely not. I can’t. I mean—”
“You’ll be safe with me, Brianne,” he whispers, his mouth against my earlobe.
I want to say yes. I want to crawl under the covers with him and let him do all the filthy things I know he wants. We can knock out my list in a single night, in a burst of glorious, sweaty, filthy sex. I want to let him break my back and ruin me to the point where I can’t walk, because I don’t really want to, because I’m too busy getting fucked into a mindless slurry.
But I can’t, for all the same reasons, and then some.
A loud knock at the door interrupts the moment. He’s staring at me, inches away, and this time I manage to twist from his grasp. “Who’s that?” I ask, walking quickly down the hall. My knees feel weak and a light sweat’s rolling down my back.
Julien follows. “Don’t use that as a distraction.”
“Might be important. It’s probably a package, right?” I grab the knob and pull it open. “Yep, a package, just like I thought.”
It’s a medium-sized box lying on the threshold. There’s a lot of tape wrapped around it, and I bend over to pick it up, but Julien grabs my shoulder. “Wait,” he says, eyebrows tugged down. “Hold on a second.”
“What’s wrong?”