He was suddenly so close to setting her on the table and eatingherfor breakfast because their fire raged out of control. But he couldn’t. Hell, his staff were around—one might appear any moment with more damned food for her. So he sank back into the seat and poured himself a coffee.
‘Have you been in touch with your parents at all?’ he asked.
‘Why do you want to know that?’
‘Can we not make idle conversation?’
Her gaze narrowed. ‘You don’t do anything idly. You have an underlying motive for everything you do.’
‘I’m your husband. Can I not ask you about your family?’
It wasn’t the first time he had and he still knew little.
‘You’re not really my husband.’
Irritated, he waved his hand so the ring on his finger caught the early sunlight. That irritatedher.
‘Are we not going to have a child together?’ he added belligerently.
Her eyes flared with an emotion that wasn’t desire. But was as hot. ‘I didn’t think we wanted any intimacy other than sexual,’ she said coolly.
He closed his eyes, battling the urge to take her to bed, tease her until she was taut, but then withhold orgasms from her until she answered his questions. Trouble was, he wouldn’t be able to go through with it. Making her come was too much of a pleasure forhimself.
Moreover, he wanted her to actuallywantto talk to him. That she might lower her guard enough to grant him a little insight. He didn’t want to have to manipulate orbullyher—he’d already had to drag her up the aisle and the prospect ofdraggingmore from her was distasteful. For once in his life he had no idea how to go about getting what he wanted. Usually it was easy. Usuallyhejust rang a bloody bell and issued orders. But right now he didn’t even know quite what it was he reallyneeded. He was just uncomfortable as hell and it was because of her. Yet weirdly, she was also the balm.
‘You okay?’ she asked after a few minutes of awkward silence.
‘I’m irritable.’ He breathed out.
She sipped her juice then carefully set it on the table. ‘Want to talk about why?’
Discussing how he felt was an anathema to him. He didn’t do it. Ever. Frankly admitting his irritability just now was a first.
‘This isn’t easy, I guess,’ she added softly.
He ran his fingers across his brow. How could she go from being pricklier than a porcupine one moment to being gently understanding the next? ‘I can’t get a handle on you.’
Her lips curved. ‘I think you get a handle on me very well.’
‘I’m not talking about sex, Phoebe.’ He huffed a reluctant laugh. ‘I know we have that nailed.’
‘What else is there for us to nail?’ she muttered.
This time it wasn’t a coquettish flirtation and it hit in a way he didn’t expect.
‘I would like us to be…’ He didn’t know what.
‘Friends?’
He didn’t have friends. But he’d like her to talk to him, laugh a little. That day by the pond, she’d laughed a lot. Now things were different. Difficult. Increasingly so. He’d thought marriage would be the way to ensure both her and the child’s safety. He’d thought it would be simple. He’d set his limits. She’d made her demands. It should be settled. But it still wasn’t right.
* * *
Phoebe stilled at the uncertain expression in Edo’s eyes. Was the man saying he wanted to talk to her? Her heart pounded. She was unbearably interested in everything about him. Ring-fencing her curiosity to the bedroom this last week had been extremely difficult and keeping emotional distance even more so—especially when she’d learned thathe’dcreated that beautiful office for her, not the staff. Isabella had told her he’d rearranged the furniture and set everything up on his own. He’d even put flowers from the chapel in a vase on her desk. She hadn’t been able to say anything about it for fear she’d get emotional.
‘I’d like to understand you,’ he said slowly.
‘Okay,’ she said.Not quite friends, then.She wasn’t going to be hurt about that. She could keep this cool. ‘I’d like to understand you better too. But—’
