Page 57 of Honeymoon Phase
For a few hours, especially after seeing all the effort my lumberyard family put into celebrating my fake marriage, not to mention my fake mother-in-law and her detailed binder, I’dtraversed from fake to almost real. And my ring? Fuck, my best friend knows me well, which is why he got this ring. That’s all.
It’s not romantic, and I don’t do romance.
Which is why I am not disappointed that he didn’t kiss me on the lips... because... we’re just friends... and friends don’t kiss on the lips no matter how good it feels. And even if I ventured into fantasyland momentarily today, Luke did not. We’re just friends who happen to be married to each other. No big deal.
Chapter 19
Fact or Fiction?
Sourdough makes my wife weird.
Luke
“Oh my God, what is that heavenly smell?” Addison exclaims as she comes bursting into my house on Friday night at six o’clock sharp.
Our house.
Not my house.
She came bursting intoourhouse.
That small mental correction has me smiling like a lovesick puppy as I watch my wife unlace her Converse shoes and drop all her stuff in a heap by the front door.
We’ve been living together for almost a week now and I still get so excited at the sight of her coming home to me. Every time it happens, my heart feels like it’s going to explode in my chest. And we’re not even sleeping with each other.
I shake away those crazy thoughts to answer her question. “Steak and potatoes. The only thing I really know how to make.”
Addison cuts me a look of disbelief as she walks over to the oven and opens it up to peek inside. “What are those?”
“Parmesan potatoes. My mom’s recipe. They’re not too hard. Just some flour and parmesan cheese and butter.”
“Looks incredible,” she says, turning to the counter to peek at the steaks that are marinating in a dish. “I thought I was supposed to be the one cooking in this marriage of convenience and you were going to do the shopping. What did I do to deserve this?”
“You cooked every night this week, Roe. This is literally the least I can do.” I huff out a noise of indignation. “Besides it’s nothing special.”
She splays her hand out on the counter where I’m chopping up some lettuce for side salads. “Um... you put your life on hold for a year to fake marry me so I can inherit my family business. That’s pretty damn special, which is why I should do all the cooking.”
My brows fold at her response because nothing about this feels fake, except for the fact that she doesn’t sleep in my bed.And I’d really fucking like her to.
She snatches a cherry tomato out of the container in front of me and asks, “Do I have time to shower quick?”
“Yeah, no problem. I’ll throw them on the grill while you’re in there.”
“Great,” she replies rubbing her hand down my arm as she walks past me. “Be right back.”
I watch her disappear down the hall and try my hardest not to picture her stripping down to nothing and jumping in that hot shower all alone. Her fingers undoing the braid in her hair as her soft, dark tendrils caress her creamy back—a piece brushing over her hardened nipple in the front.
Fuck. Stop, Luke.
You’re wooing her, not trying to hook up with her in the first week. This is a marathon, not a sprint. Although considering Everly thinks I need to close this deal before the wedding, it’s more like a half-mile run maybe. Is a mile a marathon? Or a 5K? Fuck if I know, I just know that every time I see her, I want to kiss the ever-loving shit out of her and see what she looks like under those fucking T-shirts she prances around in at night.
I’ve had to watch her make sourdough bread every goddamn night this week while I stroke my cock.
Wait... that’s not what I meant.
Rufus.
I mean stroke Rufus.
