Page 64 of Barristers & Bones

Her cheeks turned pink, and she clenched her robe shut. “You don’t need to be crude. And finding you attractive versus having sex as a fake married couple are two completely different things.”

She was lucky she hadn’t denied wanting me, but I knew I’d have better luck if I eased her into this and didn’t push too hard. So I breathed through my nose and stepped back.

“We have a forty-eight-hour truce, so for now, you need to heal and I need to find Lionel Strack. Do you want a house tour, or would you like to look around yourself while I make some phone calls?”

My mind was torn. I wanted to soak her up and take her long and hard, but I might alienate her before I could reel her in, and having this fight while she was recovering might slow down her healing. The angry contusion on her chin had gone from a vivid red color to a sickly shade of purple, and it made me want to castrate Lionel before I skinned him alive.

Her shoulders straightened. “I want you to give me the grand tour so I can annoy and pester you.”

Good. She seemed to be bouncing back a little. Luna gazed around the gleaming white kitchen with its sleek, industrial appliances. I grabbed a fresh ice pack and made her hold it to her jaw and elbow as we wandered through the house. She made several biting observations about some of my designer’s more severe choices.

When we got back to my bedroom, she stopped short and stared at my massive bed, then looked up at me and licked her lips nervously. “I haven’t seen your patio yet.”

I smiled at her agitation.

Chapter 20

Luna

His house could have been featured in an architectural magazine—for all I knew, it probably was. But it was also austere and had a strange, quiet quality to it, almost like it was in stasis. His full gym with the black punching bag in the corner felt like the only room that reflected his personality.

The apartment over Ezra’s funeral home was nowhere near as luxurious or impressive, but the space had a flamboyant, whimsy feel to it, like it was actually lived in. Roman’s house felt like a museum.

On the surface, with his money and sophistication, it seemed like a house Roman would choose. But sometimes I caught glimpses of him that weren’t polished, biting, or cynical. He’d smile at a question I asked, or we’d get lost in discussing a book, a current event, or a place we wanted to visit. I realized with a jolt that I liked being with him when he forgot he hated me, like when we ate meals together and just sat and talked. He seemed the most relaxed then. I wondered how our new marital status was going to play out.

Staying with him in his large, masculine bedroom filled me with warm anxiety. At the end of his tour, I followed him to the back patio area. Roman led me past the kitchen to his backyard, where an infinity pool stretched out before the bright Las Vegas skyline. Plush outdoor furniture had been placed invitingly around the patio, and lush planters with a mixture of herbs and desert flowers dotted the space. A massive stone firepit had been constructed close to the spa, and the entire area felt like an exclusive, five-star resort.

A sigh escaped me. I gazed around, then sat in one of the oversized loungers. “Alright, now I understand why you live here. How do you keep your beautiful pots alive in this desert climate? And are those table herbs growing in there? I can’t even keep a cactus alive.”

He sat on the edge of my lounger and studied me. “Drip lines and a gardener. How’re you feeling?”

“Fine.”

His eyebrow went up. “Don’t lie.”

“I feelsogood.”

His lips twitched, and he grasped my thigh. “Maybe we do need to discuss one thing during our forty-eight-hour truce. I like to play when I fuck, and I particularly enjoy giving well-deserved spankings. Now, I’ll ask you again. How are you feeling?”

He’d delivered his little bomb in a pleasant tone, which made it even more effective. I shivered as reluctant lust, irritation, and something darker slithered through me.

“I’m not sure if I like to play during sex, and I feel a spanking isn’t warranted at this point.”

A full-on grin spread over his face. “Noted, and we’ll have to find out what you do like, won’t we? Now tell me how you’re really doing.”

My breathing sped up and my nipples pebbled at his words, but I mentally shook myself. “My arm feels like someone tried to snap it like a green bean, my face aches, and my ribs are bruised. Oh, and I woke up married to you. Other than that, I’m peachy.”

Roman brushed my hair over my shoulder. “Alright, I can work with that. I’m going to grab a couple of painkillers–you won’t be able to sleep without them. Do you want the prescribed meds or the over-the-counter ones?”

I started to get up. “Just over-the-counter stuff. It’s okay, I’ll get them.”

“No, I’ve got it.” He stood and headed inside. I watched him, his pants molding to his tight ass, and the muscles rippling across his back as he opened the door. When he returned, he held two pills in his palm and handed me a glass of water.

The pills looked benign enough, but I hesitated. “It’s not that I don’t trust you.” I stopped short and leaned back in the chair, folding my arms. “Yes, it is. It’s exactly that. You had that beady-eyed doctor drug me last night.”

He gazed down at me. “I’m sorry I had to drug you.”

“Would you do it again?”

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