Mom. Mothers. Yes, keep thinking about that. Think about parents and maybe grandmas too. Anything to keep the pipe in my pants from bursting, or at least to keep you from tossing this perfect little nymph over your shoulder like a barbarian and having your way with her when you just fucking promised to behave.
I’d never fought so hard for self-control in my life.
“Um, Ronan?”
I blinked. Several times. Then forced myself to step away, because I honestly could not have her touching me one more second without ripping that dress off. “Ah, yeah?”
“Don’t you need to change?”
I looked down at my wet shirt and the tequila-stained ball of fabric in my hands. “Oh. Yeah. I’ll be right back.”
Ten more minutes and the fastest jerk-off in history later, I returned to the living room slightly sweaty but in a different pinstriped suit to find Laney calmly sipping a glass on the couch, looking like she belonged there.
My heart gave another hard thump. Then another when I saw the envelope she was holding.
“I—before we leave,” she said. “There’s something we need to discuss.”
I knew I should have had that fifth drink. “You really want to go over that now?” I checked my Patek. “The party started twenty minutes ago.”
When she smiled, it was adorably crooked. “Do you really care that much about being on time?”
Yeah, she knew me too, didn’t she?
I shrugged and sat down on the leather Chesterfield opposite her. “Fair enough. Did you sign it?”
For that, I received a look as she removed the document from the envelope and set it on the coffee table between us. “Of course I didn’t sign it. This document is ridiculous. But I don’t think I should be going anywhere as your, um, partner before we understand what’s going on here.”
Partner, she said. Not wife.
I wasn’t sure why that irked me, but it did, even if I’d used the term myself not too long ago.
“First of all, you’re already my wife, regardless of whether you sign any contracts,” I said as I poured that fifth drink after all. “Second of all, I don’t know if you noticed, but that contract is mostly for your benefit, not mine.”
“It’s not in your interest to know if double penetration is a hard limit?”
I nearly spat out my drink. “Christ. Liam put that in there?”
This time Laney was the one to look shocked. “Someone else knows you asked me that?”
“Liam’s my lawyer. And my best friend, but in this capacity, my lawyer.” I took a large gulp of my drink. “I just asked him to add the list with some basic preferences. Although, since you mentioned it, is it?”
She frowned. “Is what?”
“Is DP a hard limit?” I wasn’t sure if I was serious, but now I needed to know.
Every single inch of Laney Fisher’s skin turned the color of Eve’s apple. “I—what—you said—” She swallowed hard and pressed a hand to her chest. “I guess I don’t know.”
Fuck. Me.
My heart was racing like a thoroughbred itself at the thought of Laney in the center of the most delectable sandwich on the planet.
I cleared my throat. “Well, then. I suppose you should check the maybe box.”
What even was this conversation where we were talking about sex options like lunch orders? Do you prefer your chicken sandwich with a side of coleslaw or an extra serving of dick, Ms. Fisher?
I finished the rest of my drink.
“Anyway, the sex stuff isn’t really what I—I mean, it’s really just a consent form, so it’s fine, but—Ronan, you can’t give me millions of dollars just to spend six months with you.”
