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“Saoirse, wake up.”
My eyelids snap open, and I’m met with the concerned honey-gold eyes of Scotty. His hands rub down either side of my arms while he hovers over me.
“Shh. It was just a dream, princess,” he says, soothing me with his calm voice. It’s smooth like butter, and I have the sudden urge to make him read me a bedtime story. I’d probably become too turned on to actually fall asleep, but that post orgasm glow would be nice.
My body continues to shake, still trying to come down from the adrenaline caused by the fear of my nightmare. I reach for his face, tears falling. “I don’t want to marry him,” I say.
Scotty drops his lips to mine. It’s soft and supportive, unlike the kisses from earlier in the car. “I’m going to kill him, baby. He’s not going to get his hands on you.” His body collapses over mine, head falling right on top of my silk top and using my chest as a pillow. His bare chest is against my stomach like a warm, weighted blanket that eases the gnawing pit in my stomach.
I close my eyes, shaking my head. He thinks I’m talking about Vladimir Vasiliev and not Corbin McClellan. I don’t have the heart to break it to him, to tell him the engagement is still on until Vlad isn’t a threat anymore. Instead, I play with his blond hair, twirling a strand in my finger.
My eyelids grow heavy, the weight of his body bringing me comfort. Scotty is the perfect cuddle partner. I always knew he would be, the way his body gives off heat, the way he squeezes me when he hugs me, and now that it’s confirmed, I never want to have him get off me.
He’s exactly what I need to drift off to sleep, but I know when I wake up, the reality of this is going to crash against what we did last night. Or tonight … shit … what time is it even?
“It’s four am. You’ve got another hour and a half.”
Had I spoken that question out loud? Or was he just a mind reader? My fingers come to a halt at the top of his head, sleep taking me again.
Myskinitches.Ihate not having time to prep before the workday starts, and if Scotty doesn’t get his ass down here now, I won’t have time. I tap my finger against the countertop, chewing the inside of my cheek.
Scotty’s upstairs showering still, and I glance at the clock. He turned off my alarm and I overslept. There’s a building inspection in only two hours, and we’re not on the road yet. I’m not exactly sure what he’s playing at, but I don’t like it.
We came home last night, showered in separate rooms, and though he went to bed with me, he didn’t touch me after what happened in the car. He said he was going to bring me home and fuck me, but all we did was sleep.
Does he regret what we did? How far we went last night? Technically, I cheated. Scotty doesn’t know about this arrangement with Corbin. Maybe that’s why he stopped, why we didn’t do anything else.
Fuck. Corbin. I need to tell him about this. My eyes dart toward my purse that’s sitting on the bar stool. The engagement ring is in there, and I know if I put it on now, when Scotty comes downstairs, he’s going to see it and lose his shit.
I don’t know what last night means for us, but I do know there’s a target on my back until I’m married, that I signed a contract with Callum and Corbin to marry, and that if I pull out now, I’m fucked. I also don’t want to put pressure on Scotty. Especially when I’m sure last night was only because he felt bad about our argument. He shouldn’t feel obligated to marry me. I don’t want an arrangement made out of pity with him. Not at all.
The coffee pot finishes dripping, and I head over to pour our mugs. Scotty usually eats a large breakfast in the morning, but we don’t have time for that. I glance at the clock again. The glance turns into a death stare, as if willing it to rewind time, maybe even go back to last night right before I downed multiple glasses of vodka, stole a woman’s hair tie right from her fucking head, and did …inappropriatethings with my bodyguard while my fiancé eye-fucked another woman.
I groan, trying to will away the throbbing headache that comes in the mornings after horrible choices have been made.
“Morning,” Scotty says.
I whip my head around to find him standing by the fridge dressed in his suit. He heads toward me, a heated look in his eyes. “I’m starving.”
Strong arms wrap around me, tugging me toward him until our chests are colliding. “We don’t have time. I’m late for a meeting.”
His dirty blond brows crinkle as he peers at his wristwatch. “It’s only seven-thirty.”
“I have an inspection at nine,” I say in a clipped tone.
“It’s a twenty-minute drive to the office, Saoirse. That leaves you plenty of time.”
I squeeze the bridge of my nose, shaking my head. “I need an hour to prepare and sometimes I get nervous and have to go to the bathroom to talk myself down.” The temperature of my cheeks rises, and I know if I looked in the mirror, I’d be the bright-red shade of a tomato.
Scotty lets out a quiet laugh, his hand reaching for a lock of hair that’s fallen in front of my face. My brain aches, a squeezing sensation wrapping around my head, and I already know this is going to be a long day. His finger drops the strand of hair, and then he grabs the back of my head, pulling me toward him.
“The building is perfect. There’s nothing wrong with it. You did an amazing job. You’ve already done multiple walkthroughs. It’s going to be fine, and you’re going to be amazing.”
I shake my head, but he tugs my hair again, demanding I maintain eye contact. I follow the nonverbal command, desire to please him leading my actions. My mouth parts, and I dart my tongue out to wet my lips.
I’m frustrated with him, but you wouldn’t know that with the way my body reacts to him, or how my heart beats faster as I inhale his familiar scent. His thumb caresses my cheek, the callouses rough against my skin.
“I know I’m amazing, and the building is perfect,” I say, melting when a flash of amusement twinkles in his eyes. “But I’m still a Murphy, and my family has enemies. I can get an asshole inspector who is out to fail me. I have to work hard to prove myself as a woman. But as a Murphy, too? It’s damn near impossible some days. So let me be nervous.”
