"That one wasn’t an attack. Obviously, you know you look good. I’d have to wear some kind of a dress to look like I belonged next to you, which is never going to happen. That’s part of the reason I thought you were screwing Elle."
"Because of her clothing?"
"Because she looks perfect, just like you."
"Kitten, I take extreme offense to the implications you are very close to making. Don’t even fucking think about insulting yourself in front of me. We dress differently. That doesn’t matter."
"Of course it matters. People are going to talk. Would it kill you to wear jeans or something?"
I sipped my coffee again. "I’m not comfortable wearing casual clothing to a public event."
"Why not?"
I didn’t respond.
A story about my mother’s strictness wouldn’t exactly lighten the mood, or lead to anything other than her pity. Which was the last thing I was interested in.
"You’re such a pain, Callum."
"That is my specialty."
She rolled her eyes. "At least take the coat off. We're supposed to be selling the story that we’re engaged after years of dating. You would be comfortable enough not to wear a suit around me, at the very least, if that was true."
I supposed that was a fair point. "Fine." I set my mug down and removed my coat slowly, trying to avoid triggering the pain. It failed, as it always did, but I ignored it as well as I could.
"Actually, we might have another problem." Her words were quieter, her gaze glued to me as I set the coat on the island.
She was watching me so closely that I went ahead and rolled the sleeves of my button-up just to keep her eyes on me.
There weren’t words to describe how much I wanted her to need me as much as I needed her.
"What would that be?" I asked.
"As soon as any other shifters smellus together, they're going to realize the story is bullshit. We're not affectionate, and we don't smell like sex."
"There's an easy way to fix that."
"I'm not fucking you. You're using our bargain to force me to mate with you, and you keep ordering me around. It may not seem like it when I go into heat, but I have boundaries."
"I didn't suggest that."
"What other way is there to fix it?"
I stood up.
She eyed me warily.
I hoped that eventually, the woman would trust me to take care of her.
I crossed the kitchen, placing my hands on her waist.Her top was short enough that I could touch a strip of her skin, and the moment we were in physical contact, my pain vanished.
"What are you doing?"she asked.
"Fixing it." I hauled her up onto the countertop.
Her eyes were hot as they followed me to my knees in front of her. "We're supposed to be driving right now."
"We'll go when we're ready." I hooked my fingers in the waistband of her shorts, holding her gaze to give her time to push me away.
