In a sudden move, his face was inches away, his body looming over me in the chair as his dark eyes flicked between mine. I could feel the fury radiating off him. “Name.”
I frowned, feigning confusion. “Huh?”
“The tennis coach. His name. Now.”
I pressed my lips together to stop the nervous laughter threatening to burst out of me. There was no sexy tennis coach. I couldn’t hit a tennis ball to save my life. No spanking fantasy either. Although I’m pretty sure a kink had been unlocked last night.
“Aria.”
“I don’t remember.” I shrugged. “Are you really considering punishing me over a dream? How is that fair? I can’t control who I dream about.”
His nostrils flared, and he pushed away from me, storming into the kitchen and opening the fridge. He put his head inside for a good two minutes, and I smirked, eating as much as I could from the table before he noticed. I shamelessly ogled his deliciously tense back muscles and ass. He slammed it shut with brute force. Clearly, his two minutes in Antarctica hadn’t cooled him down.
He ordered the sound system to play Cher’s hitIf I Could Turn Back Time,and I pressed my hand over my mouth to stop the laughter from erupting. He had his eyes closed, head thrown back as if he were meditating, and tapped his foot to the beat. I watched him with amusement and intrigue. This man was so… weird… and strangely endearing.Nope. Focus on the regret mission.
“So?” I shouted over the music. He held up a hand to silence me until the song finished before speaking to him. I didn’t. “How does this marriage thing work?”
He exhaled and opened his eyes, turning off the song. He walked back over, pulling out the chair next to me. His movements were controlled and fluid, but I could still see him pushing down the rage to find his inner peace or something that at least resembled not losing his mind.
“What do you mean?” he asked, his eyes roving over the T-shirt and settling on my bare thighs. Heat danced across my skin at that hungry look. I subtly pressed my thighs together and tugged the hem lower, though what was the point? Modesty was a thing of the past after last night.
“I mean… we’re married now. So what does that look like? How do you see this ‘marriage’ working?”
The question caught him off guard, and he sat back, tilting his head as he studied me. “You say that as if it’s not a real marriage.”
I scoffed. “Well, it’s not, is it? It’s a prison, and I’m its prisoner.”
“So that makes me… what? The sexy prison guard?”
“If that helps you sleep at night.”
He leaned forward, lifting his hand and pulling my lower lip down with his thumb. “This is a real marriage. I’m your husband, and you are my wife. Let’s leave the role-play for the bedroom.”
“Rather presumptuous to think I’m into that kind of thing.”
He smiled. “Okay. Tell me. What are you into? After last night, I think we can add punishments to the list.”
I pretended not to hear that comment and hid my face behind my hands. “I’m not telling you. You’ll kink-shame me like all my exes.”
He grabbed my wrists and tugged them down. “Ribelle,there’s no kink-shaming in this marriage. I’m the only man who gets to give you what you need, remember?”
I forced my eyes wide and doe-like. “Really? Because there are things I’ve really wanted to try.”
The excitement on his face was adorable, purely because I was about to crush it. “Tell me.”
“Well,” I lowered my voice to a husky whisper, letting my foot caress up his inner calf as I peered at him shyly from under my lashes. His throat worked as his arousal flared. “I have a thing for men who…”
“Si?”
“Dress up.”
“Like… costumes?” His eyebrows drew together beneath strands of his black hair.
“More like women’s clothes. Like cross-dressing.”
He froze. I nearly broke character at the sheer horror on his face.
“Seeing a man in women’s lingerie is such a turn-on. If it’s mine, even better.”
