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I was wearing a Tiffany engagement ring on my finger. It felt foreign and heavy and kept glinting in the candlelight. I was sitting across from a man I barely knew and promising to move in with him open to the possibility of both marriage and children. It was insane and I knew it was insane. And yet, I had said yes.
Ninety-nine percent of the reason I’d said yes was to give myself time to figure out a way to stay in the States. Whether that was as Michael’s fiancée or for another reason entirely. But there was still one percent of me that had said yes because I wanted it to be real. Because it gave me a sliver of optimism that somehow in the end this could all sort itself out and I would have a husband.
But I had to stick with the no-sex rule because I couldn’t let myself fall in love with him until I knew he was in love with me. Nor did I want to be the person who confused lust for love, which was obviously quite the common mistake. So I had to show restraint, which sucked.
“I want this to be a true test of our compatibility.” I gave him a charming and possibly buzzed smile. “Please?”
He stared at me. He rolled his eyes. He swore under his breath. “Fine. But I get tonight. And I mean, all night. You’re not going home five minutes afterward like last time.”
The thought made me shiver in anticipation. I nodded. “I accept your terms.”
Michael pulled a face. “How did those end up being my terms? I think I got a shit deal in these negotiations.”
I put my hand over his and massaged it. “Shh. Don’t worry, it will go fast. Would you like to add anything else?”
“Yes. The standard prenup contract.”
That didn’t bother me in the slightest. The man clearly had money, both from his career and from family. “Of course. I’m happy to sign anything.”
“You have to go to the hospital’s holiday party with me.”
It wouldn’t be my first choice of things to do, but I could manage. “Sure, not a problem.” I drained my champagne. “May I have another glass?”
He lifted the bottle from the bucket and poured for me. He handed it to me and I tipped my glass back and let the smooth liquid fall down my throat.
“Sex or not, you have to show affection to me. Hugging, kissing. A lover’s nickname.”
I’d definitely had too much champagne because I leaned in closer to him and said, “Can I call you daddy?”
The sound he made in the back of his throat and the narrowing of his eyes showed me exactly what he thought of that.
My nipples hardened. I felt a rush of heat in my core.
My teasing had just backfired on both of us.
* * *
I couldn’t get Felicia back to my apartment fast enough. I basically dragged her through the lobby and waited impatiently for the elevator. Once it opened and we stepped inside, I pulled her against me and kissed her with all the pent-up passion that had been brewing while we finished dinner, the champagne, shared a tiramisu and sipped espresso.
It was debatable if she’d even wanted dessert or she was just tormenting me.
Which she was good at. No sex for almost forty days? That was bullshit.
But bullshit I was willing to endure if it meant at the end I’d have Felicia in my bed every night.
Tonight was about satiating myself to survive a month without, but also it was an opportunity to drive Felicia wild. Make
her acknowledge what a hot and intense connection we had.
Her coat was covering the majority of her body, so as I kissed her I unhooked the coat’s belt so I could slip my hand inside. She wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me back eagerly, our hot breath intermingling.
Aware there were cameras monitoring the elevator, I didn’t want to take it too far but I did push her against the wall and slid my hand down over her hip. I broke off the kiss and pulled back, cupping her cheeks and staring into her blue eyes.
“I want you so bad,” I murmured. “You’re so fucking gorgeous.”
Felicia didn’t say anything. But she reached out and stroked her hand across the front of my pants, easily finding my hard cock. She gave it a squeeze.
Damn.
