Page 80 of Claimed At First Sight

The words are spoken like he’s explaining something as obvious as the sky being blue.

My stomach swoops so hard it leaves me breathless.

“And warmth,” he continues, his dark eyes never straying from mine. “I wanted you to have both, somewhere you’d feel comfortable all year round.”

The butterflies intensify their acrobatic routine inside me.

No one outside my family has ever paid enough attention to me to notice the things I love before.

“You see,” Maximo says calmly, “as my wife, I’ll make sure you always have the things that make you happy.”

And just like that, it’s like he pushed me into an ice hole in Lake Michigan.

I shake my head and sigh dramatically into my tea.

“You should’ve stopped while you were ahead. That last part ruined your entire case.”

Maximo’s mouth curves into a devastating smile.

“Did it?”

“Completely.”

“That’s unfortunate.” Tell me about it.

He leans back, looking unbothered. “I thought the greenhouse was a strong argument.”

“It was before you opened your big mouth and spoiled it.”

His eyes darken.

“Remember,” he says, “my mouth can do a great many pleasurable things.”

Oh God.

My dream on the plane flashes through my mind, and heat explodes through me. I try to remind myself that our kiss was a catastrophic lapse in judgment, but it does nothing to lessen the charge between us.

I avoid looking at him, terrified he’ll see how much he affects me. So instead I latch onto a safer subject.

Which unfortunately happens to be the giant romantic conservatory he built for me. Not ideal.

“The greenhouse is manipulative,” I declare, setting my teacup down on the coffee table. I’m tempted to launch it directly at his head.

Maximo smirks. “It’s flowers and heating.”

“Exactly. Manipulative when you know I love both.”

His low laugh slides through me.

“You built me a magical glass palace and then attached marriage terms and conditions.”

“I prefer to think of them as expectations.”

I groan. “See? That wording right there is the problem.”

Maximo studies me, completely indifferent to my criticism.

“You dislike the word wife?” he asks.