Page 38 of Inconvenient Marriage
“I used to want a marriage like that,” Annaliese says under her breath, more to herself than to me.
Too bad. “What happened?”
She lifts her head, looking at me. “Life did.” A small shake of it, as though she’s trying to convince herself when she says, “A marriage of convenience is best. A fake husband…” She gulps. “It’s better this way.”
Not this shit again. “Fake? No, love. I told you before. I don’t do fake.”
Panic flashes over her features. It’s there and gone again, but I know what I saw. She banishes it quickly, and for the next moment, I almost think she’s going to argue with me over my statement. Nope. Instead, she folds her hands in her lap, the gesture obvious as hell that she’s done with the topic of conversation.
Feeling generous, I give her an out. “So, about Alexandre’s birthday…”
Her face screws up into an adorably puzzled expression. “You’re really are you just going to blow past that? I know we don’t know each other well yet, but that doesn’t seem like you, Sebastien.”
See? That’s where my wife is wrong. Because she can claim we don’t know each other all she wants, but she’s right: I didn’t want to blow past it. I want to make myself as clear as possible when it comes to this marriage. I didn’t think she was ready, so I didn’t push it. But if she needs me to push her a little…
I lean back into the couch, propping my ankle on my knee, amused despite myself. “When I saw the look of fear on your face? Yeah. I didn’t think you were ready to continue that conversation.”
Annaliese juts out her chin, showing off the slender column of her throat. Fuck me. If this wasn’t so goddamn important, I’d have her flat on her back beneath me in an instant just so that I can swipe my tongue up the length of her neck, finding out just how good she tastes there before?—
“I’m not afraid.”
If she had any idea the sort of dark, twisted, perverted thoughts racing around my head right now, she would be. “Good, because this ain’t no marriage of convenience. If anything,” I add, “I’d consider it an inconvenient marriage because my wife acts like we’re strangers.”
“Because we are?—”
I tap my fingers on my knee, working hard to keep my easy grin. Don’t scare her, Bas. Not when you want to keep her… “I had my cock inside of you, your legs wrapped around my waist. We’re not strangers, Annaliese. Not anymore.”
She gulps. I follow the motion of her throat and, damn it, I still want to lick her up and down. Fuckingeverywhere. “You called me ‘love’.”
I shift, trying to get comfortable even as my growing erection screams for relief. Not even this lazy pose is helping, but at least I won’t frighten Annaliese with how much I want her with my legs spread like this, tamping down the bulge jeans.
“I did,” I tell her, “and now you’re my wife.”
She blushes. God, she’s so fucking beautiful. And the way her cheeks go pink like that? It just reminds me of the blood rushing to my junk…
Annaliese clears her throat. “So when exactly are you thinking about hosting this party?”
I laugh under my breath. “Looks like I’m not the only one who changes the subject when it gets too real.”
“How about May 1st?”
Okay. I guess we’re forging ahead. I think about it. May 1st. That would give her a month to plan it. If she was able to pull off getting everything ready in eight days for our wedding, she can do this. Especially when my family’s name, wealth, and status in the Order will make a lot of vendors pretty damn agreeable.
“Mayday. I like it.”
She purses her lips. “So am I hired?”
“I don’t know if you realized it, but I slipped my card into the back pocket of your tiny purse on our wedding night.” I shrug as her lips part, stunned at my admission. If only she knew what else I’ve done… “Of course you’re hired. And do me a favor, love. Make sure you pay yourself whatever you think you’re worth.”
“Sebastien—”
I’m not done. “Then go ahead and double it because that’s what you’re worth to me.”
And, sooner or later, she’ll figure that out.
TWELVE
SORT-OF DATE
