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He tilted his head up, observing me through hooded, lust-drunk eyes. “How do you know?”
“Because I saw the way you looked at her.”
“And how did I look at her?”
“Like she’s a 600-page merger guideline you need to sign.”
A chuckle escaped him. It moved his neck and chest an inch closer to me. My pussy leaked in response.
I felt empty.
So empty.
“Bylaws aren’t usually signed.”
I rolled my eyes. “You know what I mean.”
“I do. I like your sense of humor. If I ever develop one, it would look something like yours.”
This was the oddest, most heartwarming compliment I’d ever received.
“Anyway…” I frowned, longing to touch him. “You shouldn’t marry her if you don’t like her.”
“Liking someone has nothing to do with marrying them,” he countered, his eyes dropping to my tits.
His hands twitched by his sides.
I knew he wanted to touch them.
But I also knew that he wouldn’t.
He wasn’t ready. Not yet.
He licked his lips. “In fact, the less I like her, the better our marriage is going to be. Catching feelings is a terrible weakness. Look at what it did to Romeo.”
I shook my head. “Oh, Zach.”
“What?”
“What it did to Romeo is a wonderful thing—it made him happy.”
I wanted to touch his face, his hair, his muscular arms, but I stopped myself. Instead, we stared at each other, breathing the same hot, humid air. Getting used to the proximity.
I knew someone could walk into the sauna any minute now. That I could be banished altogether from this country club and the fencing team.
And still, I didn’t care.
“Farrow,” he growled, finally, eyes gliding down to the triangle between my thighs. To my wet panties.
“Yes?”
“I want to see your pussy dripping for me again.”
“Take them off of me, then.”
His nostrils flared, and he concentrated, frowning at my panties like they had personally attacked him.
I stifled a giggle.
