Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 30680 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 153(@200wpm)___ 123(@250wpm)___ 102(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30680 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 153(@200wpm)___ 123(@250wpm)___ 102(@300wpm)
"You obviously don't want me to think it's my fault..."
Actually, Philippe was simply playing it safe with his answers, but if that was how she wanted to think of it, then who was he to stop her?
"But—-" Charlee-Mae wrinkled her nose. "I definitely know how crazy I can get, which, by the way, you can totally blame on Dynasty—-"
"Dynasty?"
"It's my favorite show," Charlee-Mae shared excitedly. "I'm obsessed with it. Have I never told you that?"
"Not as I recall..."
Charlee-Mae sighed. That her husband was being so careful with his answers hadn't escaped her notice, and that really was just so sweet of him! He obviously didn't mind painting himself the bad guy, if that was what it took to keep her feeling from upset. No wonder he had been able to steal her heart and make her say yes to marrying him in just two weeks. After all—-
Charlee-Mae suddenly remembered something. "Oh..."
Philippe stiffened. Quoi maintenant? What now?
"I don't remember your name," Charlee-Mae blurted out.
"Ah."
Charlee-Mae giggled. "Hello 'Ah'."
It was the lamest of jokes, but for some reason, it still made his lips twitch.
"Oh my." Charlee-Mae just wanted to die. "You really are perfect, aren't you? You really thought that was funny?"
"Now that you put it that way," he said dryly, "no, I don't any longer."
His wife laughed, and the sound was enough to give him a hard-on.
Putain.
"So..." Charlee-Mae was feeling quite excited. "Your name?"
"Philippe."
Charlee-Mae's heart skipped a beat.
Philippe.
Just the act of testing his name out in her mind was enough to make her toes curl.
Philippe.
She loved it, and she loved how her husband pronounced his name even more. It was so...French, and she just could not resist trying to imitate it as she said—-
"Philippe." And Charlee-Mae's heart sang. It just felt so incredibly good to say her husband's name that she had to say it again. "Philippe."
Philippe had a hard time keeping his face expressionless. His wife's attempt at a French accent was the most horrible thing he had ever heard in his entire life, and while it should have been enough to completely turn him off...he actually found himself reacting the opposite.
Incroyable.
He found it adorable and funny, but more than that, he also found her painfully terrible accent hot as hell, and when his "wife" then added in her husky, honey-sweet voice—-
"Mon Philippe."
Philippe's jaw clenched. Her accent was still shitty, but it didn't seem to fucking matter. All he seemed capable of caring about was how his wife had just called him 'her Philippe', and instead of finding her display of possessiveness another major turn-off like he usually did, his body chose to surprise him yet again, with the way his cock was now fully erect and throbbing painfully behind his pants.
A frisson of sexual awareness snaked down Charlee-Mae's spine when she noticed the way her husband was now staring at her. The lust that glittered in his eyes was flagrant and fierce, its heat almost primal, but instead of scaring her off, his need for her sparked her own desire, and Charlee-Mae found herself slowly wetting her suddenly-dry lips.
Bordel de merde!
Seeing the pink tip of her tongue run over her rosebud lips had his entire body clenching in arousal. It was just fucking insane, how this "wife" of his had such an easy time destroying his self-control and reducing him into a mindless beast in heat.
"Philippe?"
The breathless tone of her honey-sweet voice almost had him groaning.
"Oui?"
Charlee-Mae almost whimpered. Oh God, that was simply 'yes' in French, but it was just so, so sexy she could die at the sound of it.
Jade-green eyes met amber ones, and just as Charlee-Mae lost track of her thoughts, so did Philippe forget every rule he was supposed to stick to about their mail-order marriage.
He had meant to keep their relationship platonic and uncomplicated, but with Charlee-Mae turning out to be every fucking thing he had ever fantasized in a woman—-
Charlee-Mae's heart started to race as Philippe slowly leaned close.
Lord, oh Lord.
His golden head bent down, and her breath caught.
"I want to kiss you."
Her head spun, and Charlee-Mae heard herself whisper, "Oui, s'il vous plaît." Yes, please.
Lust blazed in his loins, and even though her French accent was still frighteningly horrible, Philippe could not remember hearing anything so fucking hot. This woman turned him on in a way that no other woman had ever done, and even as the logical part of his mind warned him against muddying the waters of his marriage—-
It was too late.
Charlee-Mae's toes curled under the sheets as her husband's large, strong hands clasped her face. She trembled in his hold, and she could barely hear anything over the loud drumming of her heartbeat. His head continued to lower, and just as she tried to draw another breath to calm herself, it was then his mouth finally covered hers, and she ended up completely forgetting how to breathe.