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“Fine,” he says with a wicked smirk. “But I have one condition.”
I raise an eyebrow. “What?”
“You have to work on the game with me.”
“It’s your code.”
“You’re my muse. I can’t do this without you.”
Nate slides his long fingers down my arm. The sudden contact sends a shiver down my spine, making me warm and tingly all over. My head spins whenever Nate is around. He sucks up all of the air in the room, his manly scent and overwhelming charm all-consuming.
I have to forget about the old Nate, my Nate.
He’s no longer that boy.
“And I need my Queen,” he says in a husky voice.
His Queen…
This time, he’s not referring to my last name. Damn him. Nate always knows the right things to say. When we were kids, we loved role playing. Nate’s dad bought us crowns, scepters, and long velvet robes with fur collars, fit for royalty. Richard even helped us make a dais out of plywood and outdoor carpeting, complete with black wooden thrones that sat at equal height. Because I was his equal, his Queen.
Back then, we were partners. We trusted each other. No one could ever defeat us when we worked together. Maybe, if we can put our differences aside, we might convince the world of our lie. Failure is not an option. If anyone were to discover our marriage is a sham, we will lose more than our company. Our families would become the laughingstock of the tech world.
I lean my back against the sink, needing to create some space between us. “What would being your muse entail?”
Nate’s green eyes gleam under the fluorescent lights. “It means you’d have to work closely with me.” He brushes his fingers down my arm, sliding them down my skin until his hand is resting on my hip. “You’d have to work under me.”
I press my palm to his hard chest, but that only eggs him on. Nate loves it when I fight him, when I make him work for every second he gets to spend with me. I know it turns him on. Hell, our sexual banter and snarky comments turn me on, too. After some of our past conversations, I couldn’t get him out of my head. Even long after I’d slipped under the covers, I couldn’t stop thinking of what he would do to me if given the chance. On those nights, I truly hated myself. Because I hated that Nate had an effect on me.
“You’d have to help me get through the hard parts,” he says in a tone so sexy I almost moan. “Help me with each stroke…” Nate drags out the words but doesn’t finish his thought.
Are we still talking about computers?
Holy hell, I need to have sex if I’m going to be around Nate this much. I have limited my exposure to him over the years for this reason. He does this to me every time we’re alone, always with the upper hand. I’m the one woman he’s wanted and never had. I know that it drives him crazy. And it will stay that way… for as long as I can resist him.
I trail my fingers up his chest and he groans. “You want me to help stroke your ego or the keys?”
Nate’s chest rises and falls against my hand, his heart beating so fast it mirrors mine.
The corner of his mouth turns up into an evil smirk. “A little bit of both.” He presses his lips to my ear, and the heat from his breath makes me tremble. “I have something even bigger than my ego for you to stroke.”
I feel his lips curve into a smile when I shiver from his touch. His eyes find mine once more. Doing my best to still my breathing, I hold his gaze. He wets his bottom lip with his tongue, rolling it playfully to gain a reaction from me.
Sex is a game to Nate.
He uses it to his advantage.
“Do you really think this will work on me?” I press both palms to his chest and give him a good shove.
Nate takes the hint, though I swear he looks even wilder. Nate likes to dominate as much as he likes to be dominated. That’s why he likes me so much. The constant struggle for power gets our blood pumping. My heart slams into my ribcage, pounding so loud and fast my ears are ringing.
Nate can see me sweat.
He loves it, craves it even.
“I know it works on you,” he counters.
“If we’re going to do this, we need rules. We have to set boundaries.”
“You’re going to be my wife. Why would we need rules?”
“I’ll be your wife on paper,” I point out. “This isn’t a marriage in any other sense.”
“No?” He scratches the dark stubble along his jaw as he inspects me, waiting to see if I’ll crack under the pressure. “Because I’m pretty sure your panties are soaking wet right now. And I plan to consummate this marriage.”
