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Her breath quickens. “I don’t like tattoos.”
“That could make things awkward.” I laugh heartily.
“I don’t have any clothes with me.”
“That's a problem because?”
Scoffing, she struggles away in her wedding dress, kicking the train as she moves into the apartment.
“A week ago, I was a free man, and now I have a wife. I'll only say this once, but my duties to Connor will always come first,” I enforce, and her throat works nervously. “I don’t have time to make nice with you and be friends. We need to consummate this marriage.”
“Wow,” she huffs.
“Were you hoping for a little chit chat, or maybe I can braid your hair and you can paint my nails?” I shake my head. “Let’s not pretend, Cara. We each have our part to play. Right now, it just so happens to be something I enjoy.” I shrug nonchalantly, yanking my tie loose.
“You’re a real charmer. We have no chemistry,” she defends as I remove my cufflinks and hook my holster over the back of the stool at the breakfast bar.
“That's because you're nervous.” I was equally surprised and attracted to her when I lifted her veil. It’s no surprise her father kept her hidden all these years.
“I think you’ll find I'm not!”
“What? Nervous or sleeping with me?” I grin, enjoying seeing her so rattled.
“Both!” She trips over the white cloud when she tries to run for the long hallway. My head drops back in a loud laugh.
“Stop it!” she exclaims, kicking and pushing at the material.
I lean down and pluck her out of it, setting her down in my jacket in front of me. Her body is toned and her lingerie has been picked out with only me in mind. She could wear a net curtain and I’d still want to fuck her senseless.
“I don’t plan to force myself on you, but if I return with a wife who isn't walking somewhat hesitantly, then Connor will happily put a bullet in your pretty little head,” I warn. She yanks my jacket across her bare stomach, hiding her body from me.
“He wouldn’t.” She’s skittish, her eyes flitting around the room. If she is looking for a way out, then she is out of luck. The only way out is over the balcony, and I've yet to meet anyone who can fly.
“Darling, he would. I don’t have time for games. What do you need from me to make this easier?” That gets her attention. Her lips part, and she stares at me with a deep blush. “What do you need, Cara?” I need her to be accommodating. The sooner we fuck, the quicker I can return to my duties.
She shrugs, but I pull her to me and lift my brow. She’s contemplating this, and although I have no plans to humour her, I have no intention of spending the evening begging this woman to fuck me. I was given little information on her when Connor informed me of the wedding. She likes horses. Besides that, I know nothing about her and the only thing I wish to discover requires a little more reciprocation on her behalf. “Cara?”
“Can we just talk a little first?” she stutters awkwardly, looking more and more uncomfortable by the second.
“Connor requires me back in six hours.” The last thing I want to do is talk.
“We can talk for five, and, you know, for one. Can I have some water, please?” She turns her back and walks toward the kitchen, her heels elongating her legs, which disappear beneath my suit jacket.
“Your ratios are skewered. We’ll talk for one. And, you know, fuck.” I’ll give her that and nothing more.
I take my phone and follow her.
“I suggest you have some wine. It might help relax you?”
“Sure.”
“Here.” I fill her a glass and pour myself a scotch.
When she shrugs, the shoulders of my jacket brush her ears. Her face pales, guilt swims in her vision, and something like betrayal lingers around us. “What?” I challenge, sensing something is amiss, that her reluctance to give herself to me is held back by something else.
“I have a confession,” she whispers fearfully. She pleads with watery eyes for forgiveness.
“Cara…”
