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“See, you don’t want to eat it either.”
“If I taste it, you have to feed her the next time. Vegetables. Not fruit.”
“Deal.” No way would he put that disgusting shit in his mouth and still argue it was good for her. I was a taster of everything, so I knew how gross it was.
Rolling his eyes, he scooped out a bite and hesitated. When he put it in his mouth, I smiled.
“Tastes about as good as what’s going to come out the other end, doesn’t it?”
His face contorted. “Ah, hell.” He stood, wiping the mouthful into a napkin. He carried the strained peas to the trash and tossed the jar and napkin inside. “What is that stuff?”
“Told you.”
After Elara finished her dinner of delicious sweet potatoes and carrots, Hale cleaned the kitchen. I gave peanut a bath and read her a story. When we finally made it to bed, Hale tried to get in my pants.
“Um, excuse me.” I caught his wrist. “This is a no fly zone.”
“You’re serious?”
“I told you, I’m converting to virgin until the wedding.”
“Virgin isn’t something you convert to, Rayne. You either are one or you aren’t.” He tugged me over him and caught my ass in an unbreakable grip, forcing me to straddle him.
“Hale…”
“One of the sexiest things about you is how unvirginal you can be.” He pulled me down for a kiss and I tried to resist, but he was a really good kisser.
The moment I softened, he forked his fingers into my hair and whispered against my mouth, “I’ve fucked every inch of you.” He bit playfully at my lips. “This mouth.” He pinched my nipple. “Your breasts.” He flexed his hips, grinding his erection against my panties. “Your needy, wet pussy.” His hand shifted and his finger glided along my ass crack. “Even your tight little asshole. And you loved every filthy, fucking minute of it.”
Okay, this was harder than I expected. That was extremely tempting and my body was already responding to his nearness and words. But I was determined, so I forced myself to roll off of him.
“We can have sex again on our wedding night.”
I expected him to argue, maybe even get a little bent over my sternness. But, instead, he nuzzled close to my ear, kissed my neck, and whispered, “I know you’re already regretting it.” His hand slid to the front of my panties, teased me there then vanished. “Have fun fingering yourself to frustration. When you’re ready to come, you know where to find me.”
With that, he rolled onto his back, leaving me horny and annoyed.
For the next hour I debated if this decision would help or hinder our chemistry. To be honest, there had been nothing wrong with our sex life, but I needed a challenge so I had something else to obsess over besides Elle. It was working. Now my brain was on dicks. Dicks and Elle. But mostly dicks.
Hale’s dick.
It was a good dick. Solid. Firm. Everything a girl could ask for where men were concerned. And I wanted to restrict this, why?
Remington often warned me that men who were unsatisfied at home would stray. Those traitorous thoughts, while not always accurate, lived in my head rent-free.
What if this was a mistake? What if sex was such a huge part of our relationship that cutting it out endangered us in some way?
And, if that was the case, what did that say about us? We needed to be more than good sex if we expected our marriage to last. Or maybe I needed to take a more handsoff approach since I had a habit of destroying good things while everything Hale touched seemed to turn to gold.
“Oh, my God, just do it!”
Hale, who I think had been sleeping, sat up and turned on a light. “What?”
“Sex. Just have sex with me. I don’t want to break us.”
He frowned. “Rayne, I’m over it.”
Over it or over me? I was such a headcase. Sex was the one distraction I had to keep him from realizing he was marrying a total nut-job. What was I thinking, taking sex out of the equation?
