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My entire day is spent getting pampered as I think about Wyatt way more than I should. Every inch of me is massaged, buffed and polished. I soaked in all kinds of wonderful baths and ate the most decadent food. I spent hours alone in the peace and quiet and it’s the first time in a long time that I feel relaxed.
I glance over to my bodyguard in the elevator next to me. She’s quiet as ever as we walk outside to the same driver from before. The town car looks as though it hasn’t moved the entire time I was in the spa. I thank him as he closes the door and I notice the bodyguard disappears. I glance out the back window to see her in the passenger seat of an SUV being driven by a man in a dark suit.
“Are you taking me—”
“I’m taking you to your home with Wyatt,” the driver says.
Wyatt didn’t really move my stuff, did he? Someone would have told me. Or maybe someone had tried and I don’t know because I turned my phone off after my father started blowing it up.
The driver’s response sounds practiced and I lean back in my seat feeling oddly relaxed. At least at Wyatt’s no one will know where to find me. It will be like a mini escape, which is just what I need right now.
All day when I thought of him I wondered what it would be like to be married to him. I couldn’t picture it because he’s so driven. His focus is directed on his job. Wyatt is a man who’s the best at everything he does, so I don’t think he’d be an absent husband. In fact, I think he’d take great pride in being the best husband he could be.
Our relationship has always been—I rake my mind but can’t come up with a word for it. Hot and cold? Sweet and spicy? It’s felt like we’ve been sparring but in a flirty, fun way. I get mad at him but never enough to make me not want him.
One thing I know to be true is that the crush I had when I was a young girl has never gone away. Today I realized that not only am I getting a clean break on the fake marriage, but I’m going to break free from this hold Wyatt has on me. I’m going to start something new, even though I know my father already has plans in the making. He will try and control me for as long as he can, but I want to make plans of my own. Maybe I can do it while I enjoy this time hidden with Wyatt.
Thoughts of sharing his bed and letting him touch me heat my body. What would it be like to lose my virginity to him? I lean my head back and close my eyes. I feel more relaxed as I pretend that he’s saved himself for me. He’s been too obsessed with work to find the time, but once he got me in bed he’d be demanding, needy and aggressive as his strong body held onto mine. He’d boss me around and I’d bend to his will.
My eyes fly open when my clit starts to throb. I hate bossy, I think, putting my hand on my chest. I’ve lived my whole life around bossy men, so that’s the last thing I want. So why am I getting turned on thinking about Wyatt being bossy with me? Why did I get turned on in his office today too? As I try and fight my desire, my mind conjures up all the dirty things he’d make me do.
If I’m truly married to him he could have his way with me. He could take me to events and make me suck him off in a coat closet. He could forbid me from wearing panties just so he could fuck me when he needed to.
“Something’s wrong with me,” I breathe out, shifting in my seat, my aching nipples pressing against my sweater. I’m damp between my thighs and it’s becoming uncomfortable.
“Mrs. Carmichael?” the driver asks with concern in his voice.
“Oh god.” Hearing him call me by that name isn’t helping.
Wyatt Carmichael is going to ruin me. Well, what’s left of me.
5
Savannah
“This is Wyatt’s house?” I ask the driver as I stare up at the gorgeous house.
It looks as though it was plucked from the movie Father of the Bride. Only this house isn’t in a neighborhood. It’s isolated and surrounded by a stone wall. It’s hard to see how far the wall goes as it disappears into the woods in the backyard.
It’s a small treasure hidden away from the rest of the world, and it should be. It’s utterly perfect, as if it was plucked right out of my dreams. This isn’t what I thought Wyatt’s home would look like. I was thinking he’d be in a penthouse full of black leather and white walls. I assumed he’d have ruinously expensive art by artists he couldn’t even remember the names of. It would be immaculate and sterile, because I’m pretty sure he lives in his office. Once when I went by his office I saw the sofa was pulled out into a bed. I was always having to go by and sign something, and Wyatt was there every time. I wondered if he did it on purpose because he wanted to see me. His assistant could have easily given me the papers to sign, but he always took care of it personally.
