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"It's after ten," she pointed out, refusing to look at him. "There is coffee and I am making an omelet."
"What can I do?"
"Nothing. Just sit."
Instead of obeying, he walked around to where she was busy whisking eggs. Taking the whisk from her, he put it away and turned her to face him. "Good morning."
She huffed out a breath. "I don't want to do this. I won't."
"Do what?" he feigned puzzlement that had her pushing at him.
"We should not have done that last night."
"We had to." Tugging her chin up, he bent to plant a sizzling kiss on her lips that had her toes curling.
"Stop that!" she whispered breathlessly.
"I enjoy it."
"Look, I know you are unaccustomed to being without a woman and you usually have women falling all over you, but this is—" She blew out another breath. "We got married foolishly and there is no sense pretending that it is real. We have to be sensible about this."
"Okay." He kissed her again and this time introduced tongue and had her clinging to him weakly.
"Oh God," she whispered, leaning into him. "I am not going to become one of your groupies."
"I don't have one." He rubbed his hands up and down her back.
"Maybe we can have sex one or two times." She grimaced as he gave her a pointed stare. The man was positively yummy. He was wearing a white t-shirt that was clinging to his impressive chest.
He had reduced her to tears so many times last night that she had become a puddle. Even now in the circle of his arms, she wanted to jump him, just lap him up and that kind of thing was a potential danger.
They were not suited and within a year, they would each go their own separate ways. It was no sense complicating things—well complicating it any more than it already was.
"I don't share. I am damn selfish and if we are having sex with each other, I am going to have to insist that it be only me or I—" she shook her head. "I am going to get violent."
He grinned. "I can live with that."
"And you are too pretty." She sighed deeply. "I should run in the opposite direction and—what the hell!" Dragging his head down, she planted her lips on his and turned his body into one hot ball of lust.
"The breakfast—"
"Can wait," he whispered as he lifted her into his arms. "We use the living room this time," he said before taking her lips again.
Chapter 8
Their first public appearance was nerve-wracking. It was the annual Thanksgiving masked ball and James had suggested that making an appearance there was a very good idea.
"Society turns out in their numbers, it's perfect."
"I don't have anything to wear," she protested weakly.
"You do now," Jaylen told her and picked up his phone to call Monique Romano. They had spent the last few days practically in bed and she did not want to think about the ramifications of that.
The lovemaking was sizzling, enough to blow the top of her head off. And the conversation between them is stimulating. She was actually starting to like him. No, she had to admit to herself that it was more than that. He was charming and witty. And beautiful. Those were heady and dangerous combinations.
But she had to keep reminding herself that this was just for a year.
"I think they left off most of the material." The dress was hammered gold with a plunging neckline that made it impossible for her to wear any sort of underwear. "And it's cold—I am going to catch my death."
