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My gaze moves to her swollen lips. Our kiss turned them a delicious shade of pink, glossy and full. I want to lean over and taste them again. She looks beautiful today, even more so than she usually does. She's wearing one of the outfits that I ordered for her. It hugs her curves just right. She looks good in designer clothes.
I wanted to make one of these visits conjugal with my new wife, but I thought better of pursuing that. With Ryan getting involved, there's a sliver of hope that he could somehow speed up the parole hearing. I’d thought of waiting for that, hoping to have her in my own bed.
Still, it hasn't happened yet, and now that I've tasted her lips, putting it off doesn't feel like the best move.
She's picking at her nails. No sass or quips. She’s just sitting quietly. It could be she's just warming up to the visit, but the way she’s sitting there avoiding looking at me, I'm worried that something happened to her, and she doesn't want to tell me about it.
As I think about the possibilities of what could be wrong, I get annoyed with myself that I'm anxious. This woman is making everything complicated. Somehow, I've become soft when it comes to her. I should know better than that. Her father nearly destroyed me, and now it feels like I've given her that same power—only this time it would be much worse.
"What's wrong?" I ask, my tone coming out cold and harsh.
"What?" she squeaks, startled at the sound of my voice. "What do you mean?" She looks at me, her brow crinkled in confusion.
"You're barely looking at me and refusing to talk. Are you cheating on me?" I ask. It's the first thing that comes to my mind with her behavior. It’s my experience that women can never be truly trusted. Besides, it’s not like she had feelings for me. I all but forced her into this marriage, not thinking that she could be seeing someone else. The thought of another man being in her life pisses me off.
"Cheating?" she gasps. A flash of anger moves through the confusion on her face.
"Exactly. Are you seeing someone else? If you had a boyfriend, Belle, you should have broken it off before agreeing to our marriage. I won’t stand for you dating other men just because I’m not there. I won't allow it."
"I don’t cheat!" she practically yells, "Even if our marriage isn't real, I wouldn't do that." She looks hurt that I would even suggest she’d be unfaithful. I’m not sure how that makes me feel and I don’t really want to think about it right now.
"Our marriage is real," I growl through gritted teeth. Why would she think it's not real? "You need to get that through your head, Belle. You said I do, that’s my ring on your hand and my bed you sleep in every night."
"I don't understand," she complains, throwing her hands up. If I wasn't paying such close attention to her, I would've missed what she said next. "Why do you want to be married to me?" she whispers.
"Because you owe me," I tell her, not understanding which part is confusing to her. I can't help the frown dawning my face as I look at her. She pauses for a moment. I can see the wheels turning as she thinks it over.
“You keep saying that, but that’s the very reason it can’t be a real marriage,” she reasons.
“It is real, Belle.”
“Killian, what kind of marriage can we have if all that holds us together is the fact that my father tried to destroy you?" she asks, her face pinched with pain as she says it.
"That won't be the only thing." I try to bat away the emotions that try to rise as I watch her. "You'll give me a child and a life because you're my ticket out of jail."
"Why can't we get divorced after you get out if all you want is a life outside of here?"
I have to think about her question for a minute before I decide that answering her truthfully is the best way to go here. I won't fill her head with pretty words and nonsense.
"I want you," I confess softly. "It’s you, Belle, I want in my bed. You who I choose to be the mother of my children. It’s you I want to help me secure my legacy.”
"Will you ever forgive enough to have feelings for me so we can have a good marriage?" The hope that flashes on her face with her question adds to my annoyance. I know I'm not going to give her the answers she's looking for, and I almost feel bad about it.
"I'm not that kind of man," I respond, shaking my head. “I don’t deal in emotions, Belle. Emotions make you weak. I can’t lie, however. I’d prefer you have feelings for me, but either way, we will be fine."
