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In fact, I could find myself really enjoying pretending to be in love with Archer Moore—and that’s a dangerous realization.
CHAPTER 13
ARCHER
“Stop moving,”I tell Winnie, tightening my arm around her waist to try and keep her still.
She doesn’t listen; if anything, she squirms even more despite my requests. “I’m not doing anything,” she whispers, the smile on her face not faltering in the slightest.
I groan, trying to hold her up by the hips so I don’t feel her grind against me again. I try to focus on the sound of the camera clicking. The photographer seems to be taking her sweet time with this position she has Winnie and me in, which is tragic for me, considering Winnie keeps grinding against my cock like we’re at a high school prom.
“Winnie,” I grit through clenched teeth. Her name comes out quiet enough for just the two of us to hear, but I have no doubt she clearly hears the pleading tone of my voice.
“I’m not doing anything,” she repeats, doing exactly what she says she isn’t doing by shifting her hips. If she didn’t look so innocent and unaware of the effect she’s having on me, I’d think she was maybe doing all of this on purpose.
I can’t even close my eyes or have any kind of reaction to feeling her ass against my cock because there’s a camera catching every single one of our movements.
I’ve really got to get a hold of myself. Maybe once the photos and the interview are over, I’ll go for a run and hit the gym ifneeded. I need to do something to work off all the tension in my body—and all of it is because of my completely unaware, doe-eyed wife in my lap.
Last night had been far more tolerable than I was expecting it to be. At first, it pissed me off how I was enjoying her company, but then I realized it wasn’t fair to take my anger out on her. It isn’t her fault that the wedding didn’t feel as for show as it should’ve been—that taking photos after together felt natural.
Even after we sat at the table for hours, getting to know one another, I found myself enjoying our time together. I’ve spent years building walls taller than the towers here in New York so no one would be able to get under my skin. Yet, we’ve spent one night as husband and wife, and I’m already fearing the worst—no matter how much I fight it, I know I’ll let this woman in.
If she gives me enough soft smiles and timid laughs, I know all efforts to keep her at arm’s length will be futile. It’s hard to not let someone as kindhearted as her through the barriers.
“Just hold this pose for a few more seconds.” The photographer’s enthusiastic voice breaks me from my thoughts.
My grip tightens around Winnie’s waist. I can feel the heat of her body through the thin fabric of the ivory dress she’s wearing. Being this close to her means I can also feel her breath hitch when I bring her body slightly closer to me. I don’t even realize I’ve done it until her back is pressed fully to my front. I must’ve shocked not only myself but also her with the movement because finally, she stops wiggling against me.
“We’re almost done,” I tell her, wondering if I said it to reassure myself that this is all almost over. I’ve spent the last hour pressed up against her in one way or another, and it’s testing my restraint.
At least the photo part of the interview is almost through, but we still have to do the sit-down interview portion of it. I’m not as worried about the questions because we’ll both be in our own space for it. “These are perfect,” the photographer compliments, looking at the tiny screen on her camera witha wide smile on her face. “You guys can go ahead and get seated for the interview.”
My hands drop from her waist like she’s on fire. I’m half tempted to shove her off me, but I don’t. Lucky for me, she slides off without any help from me. I try not to stare as she adjusts the skirt of her dress, her palms sliding down the fabric to smooth out any wrinkles that had formed during the shoot.
It’s hard to not look at the line where the ivory fabric dances along her pale thighs. Some of the positions the photographer had us in today made the fabric drift even higher up her freckled thighs, making it hard to focus at times.
Why does the sight of her bare skin do something to me?
I clear my throat, realizing Winnie’s already crossed the room and taken a seat in one of the lavish armchairs the team had styled for the interview. While they won’t be taping the interview, they will be taking candid photos to possibly include in the feature. They wanted us seated right next to one another with the fireplace and decorated mantle behind us.
“Need a minute?” our interviewer, Ruby, asks, her eyebrows raised.
I shake my head, not wanting to think deeply into the satisfied smirk that’s playing on her lips. “Nope. Let’s get this started,” I state, bounding over to the empty seat next to Winnie. I sit down next to her, tugging slightly at the collar of the sweater my stylist, Sara, had picked out for me this morning.
Both Sara and Winnie had asked for my input on the clothes we wore today. If it were my decision, I’d choose a variant of the same thing I wear to work every day. A button-up and a custom-made suit. Sara wouldn’t hear anything of it. She’d insisted I wear something that coordinated with Winnie.
The two of them developed a fast friendship when they went to Winnie’s room to pick something out. Quick on her feet, Winnie had explained that she didn’t like sharing closet space, and that was the reason we weren’t sharing one. Sara didn’t seem to question it.
Those little details are things I hadn’t really thought through when hastily agreeing to this marriage. I have staff in and out of my house almost every day. Luckily, they’ve all signed ironclad NDAs that they’d be stupid to ever break. It still reminded me that even when at home, Winnie and I will need to be careful playing the part of a newly married couple.
To keep up with the charade, I look over at my wife with a forced smile on my face. Hopefully, Ruby doesn’t realize it doesn’t reach my eyes. It’s hard to smile through the tenseness of my body. I haven’t had time to fully recover from having Winnie grinding against my cock for what felt like an hour but probably was only five minutes.
Winnie returns my smile, except hers does actually meet her eyes as she stares at me in a way that makes my heart come to life. She’s too beautiful for her own good. So stunning, that for a moment, I’m lost in her wide, blue gaze. I pull my eyes from hers, instead letting my gaze travel down her body for a moment because I can’t help myself.
I don’t know if it was her or Sara who decided on her outfit for the day, but whoever it was did absolutely amazing. The dress fits her body perfectly but still leaves a lot to the imagination. Too much to the imagination, apparently, because I’m imagining too much of what she hides underneath the smooth fabric.
She’s paired the dress with a blazer that cuts along her torso. It’s a soft camel color, matching perfectly with the sweater Sara laid out for me to wear. For some reason, the little pearl buttons on the blazer catch my attention. I can’t help but wonder what it’d be like to carefully undo every single one of them so I could see what she hides underneath.
