CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Ryker
I openthe car door for Sasha, helping her into the passenger’s seat.
I’ve never seen her dressed like she is this morning, in ripped jeans and a fitted leather jacket, but she looks hot as fuck.
She’s applied some charcoal looking eyeliner around her eyes, making her large eyes look even bigger, and she is rocking this hot, slightly dangerous, definitely vulnerable look that has my balls on fire.
Or maybe it’s the fact that she slept tangled up in me all night, the silk of her legs wrapped around mine, her little pussy rubbing against my thigh in her sleep.
I know we’re both clear that this is temporary.
But I don’t intend for Sasha to find out what I’ve taken from her, in terms of the casino.
So there is no reason we can’t…enjoy each other while we’re married.
I’ve never allowed a woman to sleep over, in fact, I usually don’t allow them into my personal space at all. I fuck at their place, which leaves me free to exit when I choose.
Then again, the penthouse isn’t really my space either. I’ve moved there with Sasha for her protection, but I’m free to return to my own apartment whenever I need.
I like having built-in outs. Like to be able to cut when things get too…messy.
She steps into my car, folding her legs inside before I close the door.
I have to admit, I didn’t hate having her in bed with me. It’s a first, but not a last, for sure.
Waking up to her body against mine was both sexy and sweet and I intend to do it again.
Then again, my raging cock won’t be able to abstain long if she continues to sleep wrapped around me.
I climb in the car and plug an address into the GPS. It’s a boutique kind of store that my brothers use often for their wives.
They have high-end clothes for nearly every occasion.
I got a look at Sasha’s wardrobe this morning. It’s a lot of workout clothes and casual things like what she’s wearing today.
She’ll need more clothing for going out in the evenings, to events, things like that.
The straight, silky curtain of her hair hangs down her back. I resist the urge to run my hand over it, let the strands slip through my fingers. “Any hair or makeup requirements?”
She shakes her head. “No. I don’t need anything, really.”
I frown. “We’ll be out some evenings at family events. Charity stuff. You’ll need clothes for that.”
She nods. “Whatever you think.”
Sasha is killing me. I’ve not heard her utter a single word of complaint. She’s not made a request. And she’s so agreeable it’s almost painful.
It doesn’t take long to reach the shop. I pull around the back and use a side entrance, meant to give us more privacy.
Stepping into a private room, racks of clothes have already been pulled for Sasha’s benefit.
“What are we looking for today?” the salesclerk asks as she joins us in the private room. She’s the kind of blonde that you find all over Vegas. Thin, gorgeous, and completely plastic.
“Clothes for the evening, for luncheons, for…” I pause, thinking of other events Sasha might find herself at in the next few weeks.
“Of course. We can do that. We can’t have your wife, Mr. Smith, looking like she’s been dragged through the ghetto,” the salesclerk clicks her tongue in distaste, giving me a conspiratorial wink as she makes eyes at me.
