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Her cheeks heat a little and the attempted shrug of her delicate shoulders makes her appear more unsure than nonchalant. I know the truth, I just need for her to say it.
“It’s your favorite. You made me macaroni. I made you lasagna.”
She smiles self-consciously then returns to her food.
“How did you know?”
Karessa carefully places her fork next to the plate. Intertwining her fingers, she studies them like she wasn’t born with them. Everything in her demeanor screams, “Don’t make me answer!”
“Well?” I prompt.
“You know how, Oran.”
Her crush. My name coming off her lips in a plea is damn arousing. It turns me on to where I’m shifting in my seat.
“Tell me.”
She gulps her wine like it’ll give her courage. She’s told me what’s on her mind before, but I can tell she’s still frazzled from what I did to her. Karessa will adjust. That was only the beginning.
“My former infatuation with you made me go over and beyond to learn all I could to be the best future girlfriend you’ve ever had.”
“Former?” I tease.
“Shut up,” she grumps with a snort and an eye roll. Some of her moxie returns and she sits straighter. “My infatuation sunk with me in the pool. Plus, you’d never acknowledged my existence.”
Ah. That again.
“Any female other than my mom would have gotten pushed. I was dealing with a crazy ex and I didn’t need her stalking you just because you greeted me. Or any girl,” I add, because it’s true. “My actions were not specific to you. I didn’t even know who you were,” I explain.
Her features soften as if she’s considering my words.
“You walked out with a girl after you pushed me. It felt pretty personal. Caerwyn had to help me.”
“Caerwyn helped you while I talked the psycho into leaving the party. We’ve already covered the age difference when you were drunk. Do you need a refresher?” She shifts in her chair like remembering what I told her turns her on. Good.
“No. I remember.”
Moving my now empty plate aside, I swipe the last bit of sauce off my bottom lip with my thumb then suck it off. It’s a damn good sauce. My actions weren’t meant to be sexy, but Karessa’s face tells me a different story. I’ll take it.
“How do you want me?”
Her fork clanks against the plate once it slides out of her hand.
“What?”
Holding her gaze, I lean in to keep her attention on me.
“How. Do. You. Want. Me?” I enunciate. “You’ve had a week to formulate an opinion. Do you want to risk it all or wait,” I glance at the date on my phone. “A little over five months?”
“What do you want?” She throws the decision back to me.
Shaking my head, I turn down the choice. “No ma’am. I’m not answering for you. Last week you thought I was in cahoots with my dad just because I cared enough to make you macaroni. You are not pinning your choice on me. I will have you either way. I just need to know if my dick will meet you now or later. If you choose to be my real wife, I’ll take you in our room right now and put you in
every position I can imagine until you can’t scream anymore. If you want to wait to negotiate your prenup, I’ll show you to your room.”
Karessa’s throat works as she chugs the rest of the wine. “My room?”
“Yes. All the rooms are furnished now. If you get mad, go in one of them. I wouldn’t leave you blind for days at a time, I expect the same respect from now on. I may not love you, but I’m capable of giving you some things you want or need. We’ve proven our ability to get along. We can make the most of this situation. It’s okay to laugh together sometimes. We don’t have to go to war every day. Isn’t that what you said? That’s what you wanted, right?
