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And I wouldn’t deprive her of this skill like her father and brother had done. She’d expressed that she wanted to learn to shoot, so I’d teach her. No matter how agonizing it was to hold her while I positioned her stance. It took all of my considerable willpower to force my erection to subside when her pert ass was pressed up against me.
When I was satisfied with her stance, I allowed her to fire a single round. She barely clipped the target, but an ecstatic giggle burst from her chest. I recognized that rush of power, the high of firing a deadly weapon. My heart thumped against my ribcage, and I quickly flipped the safety on the gun before stepping away from her.
She turned to me, beaming, and her brilliant smile knocked me square in the chest. The desire to trace those lush lips with my tongue was almost unbearable.
I took another step back, and her smile faltered.
Fuck.
Every time I pulled away, I hurt her.
This had been a mistake. Not because I shouldn’t teach her to shoot, but because I couldn’t trust myself to be this close to her.
I hardened my resolve, drawing walls of steel around my heart. I’d sworn to protect Isabel, and that meant I couldn’t keep hurting her like this. I still needed to get to know her—I didn’t want her to be lonely. I owed her companionship, even if I was shitty company. Our time together could be limited to nightly dinners, when the massive dining table would keep us safely separated.
I resolved not to touch my beautiful young wife ever again.
CHAPTER 20
ISABEL
TWO WEEKS LATER
I hummed to myself as I set the dining table, a task that usually went to one of the kitchen staff. Over the last two weeks, I’d been learning to cook, and tonight, I’d actually helped the chef make dinner. Well, I’d chopped things, and she’d explained how she was preparing the meal.
Sebastián had suggested that I find a hobby other than reading, since I still didn’t have access to my electronics, and I didn’t feel like planning another awful party anytime soon. I’d bristled at the suggestion initially, wishing he’d just give my phone back and call off his guard instead. But I was bored, so I’d decided to join the chef in the kitchen and learn something new. And since he hadn’t offered me another shooting lesson, cooking had filled some of my free time.
I practically bounced on my toes in excited anticipation of sharing my accomplishment with Sebastián. I was proud of what I was learning, and I was eager to show him. We’d had dinner together, and nothing more, every night since he’d taken me to the shooting range. It felt safer to limit our interactions to mealtimes; it was easier to resist the undeniable chemistry we shared when the massive dining table separated us.
Still, I’d come to enjoy his company. He’d shared more with me about his fondness for football and shooting, and he always asked how my day had been. He’d even expressed interest in my romance novels, of all things. My husband truly was making an effort to get along with me, and to my shock, it wasn’t difficult to cohabitate with him. I even looked forward to our daily dinners together.
Especially tonight, when I’d actually helped prepare the meal. Something about it satisfied me to my core. The feeling confused me, but I attributed it to the same sense of satisfaction I attained when I put together a beautiful party. I liked entertaining people, making them happy.
I eagerly anticipated one of my husband’s rare smiles once I told him that I’d helped prepare dinner for him. It felt oddly domestic, and I decided I liked it. I’d never spent time with my family like this. Even when we had shared meals, it’d been a stiff, silent affair. The only conversation took place between my father and Daniel, whom he doted on as his heir. My mother was always frosty toward me, having little interest in me other than her duty to raise a respectful, accomplished daughter.
Dinners with Sebastián were different. He was different.
We hadn’t indulged in physical contact since the night he’d taught me to shoot. And the night before that, when I’d almost kissed him again after the football game. Sometimes, I thought I caught him looking at me with desire, but the fire would leave his eyes as soon as I noticed. I might’ve just been seeing what I wanted to see. Because the more time I spent with him, the more I wanted to touch him, to kiss him. To have him hold me with harsh passion and make me come undone with ruthless pleasure.
I shook my head. Surrendering to that chemistry led to madness. I forgot myself completely when we were together like that, and he clearly didn’t want to lose control, either. What we had was enough. More than enough.
