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“When will it be safe?”
“Isabella, I’m trying to keep you alive.” So he can breed me.
“Never mind.” I wave my hand, preparing to leave.
“Wait.”
I stop and feel the heat of him at my back. “Yes?”
“Turn around.” His voice sounds thick with lust.
I do, and I wonder if he’ll drop the towel. Ask me to go down on him in exchange for going out. Which I won’t. “What?” I fold my arms to match his.
“Where are you in your cycle?”
“Mymenstrualcycle?”
“Yes.” He tugs at the towel, his fingers brushing against a taut stomach. A glint catches my eye. His wedding ring! “Don’t sass me. You won’t like what I’ll do to you.”
“I might.” I snicker. “I think you’re the one who won’t like it. What’s the deal, anyway? Too freaked out that I’m your old friend’s daughter?”
“Actually, that’s a huge turn-on.” Must be, because the towel is starting to look a little tighter.
“You want to get me pregnant now?”
“That was the deal.” He gives me a once-over. “You’re not on birth control, right?”
The way the question is worded might get me off on a technicality. “No.”
He pushes me up against the closed door, his fingers gently tightening around my neck. “When did you bleed last?”
Our wedding night, which would have been a terrible inconvenience if my husband stuck his dick inside me and not just his fingers.
Since I’m on the pill, the answer doesn’t matter because I won’t get pregnant. But he wants a sex playdate with me. And if he understands how cycles work, he’ll figure out if I got it on our wedding night, that means I’m fertile right now. He may tie me up in this room and rail me all weekend. I want to go to Sam’s party tomorrow night.
“I have to check my calendar,” I say cagily.
He strokes my cheek and then brings a finger down to my collarbone. “You are mine, Isabella. Icantake you whenever I want.”
“You must notwantto have sex with me. I’ve been down the hall for weeks.”
“I’ve been busy, and I am giving you time to adjust.”
“Adjust to what?”
“Everything. Being married. Living here.”
“I’m not a rescued puppy. You should be helping me adjust toyou. The man you are. Your moods.” I reach out and stroke the tattoo on his right arm. The darkened blocks with floral overlays flex at my bold reply.
“You’ll adjust,” he says wryly and grinds against me harder.
He’s truly the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen, and this body is made for sinful pleasure. He’s so controlling and annoying, but I want to run my lips over every inch of his body and feel his mouth on mine again so badly.
“So, can I meet these students or not? You’re paying for me to finish my degree. I read that it’s good for online students to get together to create some semblance of campus life. It enriches the college learning experience.” My voice chokes because I’ve never felt more alone in my life. Just safe.
“When is this?” He studies me, and in a second, Iwillget on my knees if that’s what I have to do.
“Tomorrow afternoon.”
