Page 78 of Marry Lies
“His Virgin Bride?” Miles says slowly, his eyes glittering with mirth.
I purse my lips as I snatch the phone out of his hand. “Excuse me,” I say quickly, swiping out of my audio app. “You can’t just take my phone like that—”
“Is that the kind of thing that turns you on?”
His eyes haven’t left mine since before I grabbed my phone, and he seems genuinely curious.
I shrug. “I like all kinds of romance. I don’t have a favorite trope. I couldn’t say if that sort of thing turned me on in real life. It’s just a fantasy.”
Rolling his tongue along his cheek, he cocks his head slightly. Taking a step forward, he places his hands on either side of me, boxing me in. Leaning down, his breath makes me tremble.
“And if real life could be better than your fantasy? What would you say then?”
Good lord.
I place my hands on his chest as I look up into his face. “I guess I’ll never know,” I reply, knowing my cheekiness might push him away again. “I’m married to this grump who works all the time.”
His eyes bore into mine with…something. It’s heated and intense, but I’m not sure if it’s lust or hatred.
“Well, thisgrumpdecided to cancel all of his meetings today,” he says, his green eyes sparkling. And then he bends down, brushing his lips over my cheek ever so gently. “I missed my wife,” he adds, his voice soft.
My heart races inside of my chest as I pull away slightly. “Miles—”
“Have a good breakfast,” he says slowly, pulling away and walking out of the kitchen.
* * *
I spend the day finishingHis Virgin Bridein the castle library—which is fitting, I think. I’m not ashamed of my book choice. The writing is amazing, and the smut is top-tier. Miles can kiss my arse. Around two, Miles saunters into the library with a paperback book about investing money and a plate of sandwiches for us to share. I watch as he takes a seat across from me, chewing quietly, but other than a polite smile when I thank him for feeding me, he doesn’t say a word.
At six, he excuses himself, and I wander around the stacks of books, having just finished my book. I try to make notes about the kinds of things I still need to do for VeRue, but as my fingers graze the book spines, my mind continues to wander to the scene where the main male character pressed the main female character against a library shelf just like these.
By the time I’m walking into the dining room for dinner, my skin is flushed and my palms are sweaty.
Miles is already seated, and he nods once as I take my usual seat.
We haven’t discussed practicing our physical chemistry in days, and while I appreciate the fact that he’s not walking on eggshells around me, I also want to ask him why he stayed with me every night.
Why he continues to flirt with me as if he can’t resist me.
Why he told me he came home from work today because hemissedme.
The chef brings in a salad, and I sip my wine as I watch Miles eat. He brings the food on his fork up to his mouth slowly, chewing with a closed mouth. My lips part as I watch the way his long fingers grip the cutlery—God, why is it so erotic to watch him eating?
“Are you going to eat your salad, or are you going to continue drooling?” he asks, flicking his green eyes to mine.
Instead of coldness, there’s only warmth.
My stomach does a little flip as his lips tilt up into a smile.
“I’m just enjoying my wine,” I tell him, grateful that my turtleneck sweater hides my splotchy chest.
We eat our salads in relatively comfortable silence, and then the chef brings in a steak with potatoes.
My mouth waters.
“If you don’t want to talk about it, I’d understand,” he says after taking his first bite. “But I’d like to know more about your condition.”
I stop eating and briefly close my eyes. I didn’t want him to ask. I didn’t want him toseeme like that. And while I was grateful for his help and his constant company, I feel better today. I want to move on. I know ignoring it probably isn’t a healthy coping mechanism, but still. I don’t enjoy dwelling on it.
