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My hands fall to my lap, and I squeeze them tight.
Make him fall in love with me.
Not hate me.
But he seems to like the game we play.
“I said it, did I not?”
Whiskey stands, pushing his seat in, and walks his plate to the sink. I watch from my spot, still seated.
“You’re interesting, to say the least, and not quite what I was expecting.”
“Were you hoping I’d spread my legs for you every night, to make this arrangement easier for you?”
He laughs at my words. But I can’t say that thought hasn’t run through my head.
“To be honest, yes. I was hoping for a repeat. But we have a year to build up to that, now don’t we?” He smiles as he walks away.
Like I needed that reminder—one long year.
Doing the same thing, I walk into the room and see my dress laying on the bed.
“Tradition doesn’t bother you?” he asks, nodding to the dress.
“It’s in a bag; you can’t see it. Plus, it’s not like this is your ordinary wedding where two people love each other.”
“True,” he says, removing his jacket, and that’s when I see more of it.
It’s definitely not tomato sauce.
Why does he always have to undress around me?
It’s entirely unfair and makes this so much harder than I thought it would be. Because it makes me want him. And I don’t want to want him.
“Is that blood?” His eyes fall to where I am pointing, and he just smiles, not giving me an answer. I’ve heard stories of him, how ruthless he can be.
Picking up my dress, I walk over to him before he can fully undress and push it into his hands.
“Since you like to arrange my things, put this away.” Whiskey takes it, because if he didn’t, it would drop. He turns around and hangs it up right next to his suits. Taking a deep breath, I start to remove my own shirt, so I’m left only in my black bra. I slide my pants down my legs, leaving only a small G-string wrapped around my body. When I turn around, his eyes are darker and he’s watching me with intent.
“I’m showering first.” Then I walk into the bathroom, not even bothering to shut the door behind me. After all, he’s seen me naked before, fuck, he’s kissed and licked every part of me. When I remove the last of my clothing, I notice his reflection in the mirror as he stands at the closet not moving. Quickly showering and getting out, I reach for the towel to see him already there holding it in his hands for me.
“You’re playing a game. But Bunny…” His eyes look up to me, heat is evident in them. “I play better.”
Taking the towel from his hand, I step up to him, naked and wet. My body almost brushing his. Whiskey’s eyes don’t drop. I expect them to. Maybe he’s better at this game than I thought.
“Are you sure about that?” His eyes search mine, and then his straight, beautiful white teeth drag over those lips that are begging to be kissed. His warm hand comes to my bare hip, leaving a burning mark in its wake.
His head drops to the side. Is he thinking about my question? Then he drags his teeth again over his bottom lip, and I can’t look away. He knows it. His hand squeezes my hip and slides a fraction farther down, so he’s almost on my ass. Almost. I can feel my body heating and reacting just from his simple touch.
“Are you, Bunny?” he questions.
“We will see, I guess.” Pressing myself to him, I lean up so I’m close to his ear, and my breasts are pressed against his chest. “I like to play games. Who better to play them with than my future husband?”
Wrapping the towel around myself, I walk out, shutting the door behind me. The last thing I need is a reminder of how good that man looks naked.
I already know, and it’s painful.
