“Sex has never been just physical for me,” I shoot back. “When Landon and I had sex, there was something there, even if it wasn’t perfect. With you... we had a connection that first night. It may have been a fantasy, but it felt real.”
I take a breath.
“Ifeel, Griffin. And I have to push those feelings away because you’ve made it very clear you don’t want to be marriedto me. You don’t want a wife—youneedone. For some reason, you picked me. But outside of my pussy, ass, and tits, have you made any attempt to see who I am?”
I am crossing a line, but I don’t care. I can walk away from this.
Griffin looks out the window as he speaks. “It’s true that I don't want to be married to anyone. Marriage is a shackle. It certainly isn't real when you have a forced relationship bound by a contract. I create contracts to bind entities to less-than-optimal things, but that’s not the way hearts should work. My heart... doesn’t work. Therefore I must have a contract.”
He sounds almost... sad? Lonely? Pathetic? I can’t decide.
He turns to look at me. “Yet, for you...” He flattens his lips.
“I can’t just fuck,” I say quietly. “I don’t need a lifetime of devotion, but some care? Mutual respect? Maybe a curiosity to know who I am?”
Fuck. I’m not getting through to him. This is going nowhere.
We are lit only by streetlights flashing as the car moves. It’s difficult to read his expression.
“I understand that our marriage is the antithesis of who you are,” Griffin says finally. “I'm hoping that five million dollars and a career are compensation enough. I certainly know thatIam not. I'm an asshole, Selena, and you are a good woman. You don’t think I see you? That I didn’t feel your body tense every time someone assumed you were less than them tonight? You don’t think I know your polite smile was covering your abject distaste for my world? I see you.”
He pauses. “I just don’t want to acknowledge that I’ve made you do something so grossly outside of your moral sphere. Mycock doesn’t get hard just for your tits, Selena. I’m not fifteen. If you don’t want to have sex with me, that's fine. I’ll spend the year fucking my hand.”
I’m too emotional. I burst into tears. “Fuck you,” I sob as the car reaches his loft.
He gets out, holding the door for me. “Just get an IUD, please. That’s all I’m asking. Whether you feel something or don’t, we can’t keep our hands off each other. One day, it will be too much, and you’ll want sex. Give this time.”
Wordlessly, we ride the elevator to the loft. When we walk in, he turns to me.
“I have to work,” he says, but it sounds more like an apology.
“I know.”
“Have a dip in the hot tub. It soothes the nerves.”
It isn’t care, exactly, but it’s... caring. Sort of.
I do spend time in the hot tub looking out at the stars. It calms me. I don’t regret what I said. He needed to hear it.
When I’m too exhausted to stay awake, I go to our room. Griffin isn’t there, so I get in bed and fall asleep. Later, I feel him slide in next to me. He kisses me on the head, thinking I’m unconscious.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers into the dark.
When I wake up, he’s gone.
I get dressed and go to my appointment. I don't know why I'm nervous. Maybe because the whole situation still feels off-kilter.
“Selena Calloway.” The nurse calls my name. I almost don’t hear her, becausewho is Selena Calloway?
I follow her back.
“Take off your clothes and put them in this basket,” she instructs, handing me a paper gown. “Panties off. The doctor will see you soon.”
“Thanks,” I say quietly.
I'm only left waiting for a few minutes. I guess this is the perk of having a powerful husband.
“Hello, I’m Dr. Wells.” A pretty woman in her late fifties walks in. “This is all pretty standard. Before we proceed, I just need to do a few routine tests to make sure an IUD is the best method for you. If all goes well, I should be able to install it this afternoon. I know you’ve just gotten married—I’m sure you and your husband would like a little peace of mind.”
