Page 11 of Claimed By my Fake Husband

Assholes. Like she'd give them the time of day. She doesn't belong to them.

She doesn't belong to you either, Logan.

The thought cuts through me clean. I can't think like this about her. She's nearly half my age. A client. And I still have that fucking rule.

For good reason.

Distractions cost lives. And nothing distracts like sex.

"It's fine." I steady her on her feet, my hands still on her arms, her skin silky under my palms. "I'm your husband, remember?"

I'm trying to lighten the mood. Instead, something lights in her eyes, and a tiny smirk pulls at her mouth.

"As if,darling. I wasn't looking for any of that. I just wanted to get in bed and fall asleep before you. Because guess what? You snore."

She's been teasing me since the moment we met. Something about all that snark has me...

Hard as a fucking rock.

"Oh, really? Because if I remember right, you're the one who kept rolling my way in the middle of the night."

"I'm used to having my own bed!"

Her cheeks flush bright pink, and for once I can't tell if it's embarrassment or anger—which is annoying, since I usually know exactly what people are feeling.

Knowing her, it's probably both.

"Are you going to let me pass?" She lifts her brows, and I glance down her body again. Can't help it. "Well?"

Goddamn, she's stunning. That nightgown should be illegal. The thought of anyone else seeing her in it makes my blood boil, and I have to breathe through my nose when she crosses her arms.

Black silk, lace trim over two triangles that barely cover her. The hem barely covers her ass.

My brain wonders what I'd find if my fingers went looking underneath.

Stop, Logan. You're about to cross a line you can't uncross.

"Not exactly the doting housewife, are you?" I can't believe I said that. Why can't I stop teasing her? Flirting with her?

"Ha!" She rolls her eyes. "Absolutely not. I will never be like those women across the street. Even playing pretend."

There's so much challenge in her stare. A fire that calls to me like a moth to flame. My jaw clenches as I try to steady myself.

But everything in me wants to snap.

I'm not this man. I'm reserved. Calculated. I don't chase women, especially ones two decades younger than me.

And yet.

"Is that so?" I step closer, sliding my fingers up the outside of her arm. "You'd never submit to someone?"

She trembles under my touch, and it's intoxicating—the wide gray eyes, the blazing pink that dips down her neck to her chest.

I want to see what the rest of her would look like flushed like that. What her ass would look like with my handprint on it.

Dammit, Logan. You should stop. You should?—

"What..." She blinks, swallows hard. "What is that supposed to mean?"