Page 18 of Blackbeard
Leigh made a patronizing little sound.
“We’ve barely been married for an hour and you’re already thinking about divorce? Maybe we should try couple’s therapy.”
“Over my dead body,” I grumbled.
Leigh chuckled and gestured to the Forsaken behind her.
“You can leave my bags there, boys. My husband will help me unpack.”
No, he will not,I thought.
“Thanks for checking up on me,” she added. “Tell Dad that I’m settling in just fine.”
One Forsaken member lingered on the threshold while the other two returned to their bikes. He shoved his hands in his pockets and flicked a glance in my direction. Then he leaned in toward Leigh with the close proximity of someone accustomed to the familiarity of sharing her personal space.
“Let me know if you change your mind,” he said. “I’ll take you home. Any hour of the day or night, doesn’t matter. You say the word, and I’ll get you out of here.”
Leigh patted his chest and kissed his cheek.
“I’ll be okay.”
His gaze dropped to her mouth for a split second. And I could have sworn he would close the miniscule space between them to kiss her, even though I was standing right there.
Then Leigh gave him a friendly push toward the door. Reluctantly, he left, but he still glanced back over his shoulder at the house before she shut him out.
“If you wanted a husband, he looks like he’d be happy to volunteer,” I said.
Leigh waved me off.
“Torch is allergic to long-term relationships. But friends-with-benefits is a different story. Besides, there’s no way in hell that I’d marry one of my father’s men.”
“So marrying one of his enemies is a better option?”
She shrugged with a smile.
“Of course. Much more advantageous.”
Leigh folded her hands behind her back and leaned against the wall across from me. A fitting representation of our marriage—opposing clubs, forced to live together, a wary chasm of space between us.
“You don’t like me very much, do you?” she said in a quiet voice. Not pained, or uncertain, or disappointed that I didn’t love her as a brand new husband should.
It was merely an observation, and the tiniest smile flickered at the corner of her mouth, indicating her amusement at the situation.
“I don’t trust you,” I replied. “Given the circumstances, you can hardly blame me for that.”
“So…this is it?” Leigh gestured between us. “This is what it’s going to be like? Me, over here. You, over there. Husband and wife, sharing a home, but we never touch, never kiss, never have sex…”
She dipped her chin and looked up at me through her lashes—the perfect example of a minx, testing my self-control.
Slowly, she reached up and dragged the zipper of her riding jacket down, revealing her snug red tank top practically glued to every swell and curve of her body.
I gritted my teeth until my jaw ached. My cock surged against the zipper of my fly. I had to get used to this. Living in close quarters with Leigh would bring temptation around every corner. She was taunting me, hoping to turn me into a drooling caveman who thought of nothing but fucking.
What are you up to, princess?I wondered.
There’s no way she simply agreed to this marriage with a complete stranger because her father asked her to. Something else had to be going on. Something that would benefit her.
And I wasn’t some horny, drooling caveman who lost all common sense if given the first opportunity at a little pussy.
