Bullshit. I trust his initial, undisguised reaction more than his Harvard Law-trained words. “So, I guess this means we don’t have to do that sex countdown.”
“I didn’t say that.” He leans forward. “After all, can we really go two years without sex?”
“Well,youprobably can’t.” I shoot a meaningful look at his crotch.
“Me?You’re the one who created this huge wet spot.” He points to the bed. “I had to put a towel over it because I’m a gentleman and I don’t let my partner sleep on the wet spot.”
My face heats, and I shake my head, self-conscious and annoyed at the same time. Bryce and I have always had amazing chemistry. He makes me so wet that it’s embarrassing sometimes. It’s never happened with anybody else, but I’m not stupid enough to admit that. Brycewould crow until I wanted to throw the Americano in his face. And I really need this coffee.
“So how are you going to do the sex part?”Time to move on from the wet spot.“I don’t want to do the countdown if I also have to be married to you for two years.”
“We’ll play it by ear.”
Why does that sound like, “We’ll do it every day”?
“But I am at your service anytime you want to jump me, just like last night.” He spreads his arms with a smug smile.
My fingers tighten around the mug. “How absurdly generous. I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Oh, and I want to add that I’m always in the mood.”
And that sounds like, “I’ll help you get in the mood, baby.” Given our chemistry, it’s very possible that he could seduce me if he put his mind to it.
And part of me wants to see what he’d do.
I shake myself inwardly and read the rest of the document. It says that we don’t have any claim over each other’s premarital assets, but I’m to live with him at his home.Fine. We’re to keep our assets separate while married, and under no circumstances commingle anything.Also fine. It should make our break cleaner.
“Birth control?” I ask.
“I can supply condoms, and if you want, you can go on birth control.”
I sigh. There’s nothing objectionable about the terms. “Okay. Give me a pen.”
He hands me a sleek Mont Blanc. I scrawl my name at the end of the document and date it. He takes the pen and signs. As I watch him jot down today’s date, my stomach flutters with nerves and something else I can’t quite put my finger on. Anxiety floods me. It’s nothing like what I felt when I agreed to his payment plan for the two million dollars.
Oh my God, I’m really marrying Bryce. I breathe slowly in and out, trying to focus on the air moving through my body.
It’s going to be okay. Two years will pass in the blink of an eye. It’ll be like living with a roommate.
Besides, he’s too smart to not figureout a way to end our relationship as quickly as possible. I can’t imagine his wanting to spend any more time than he has to with me. Once the Zoe problem is resolved, we’ll go our separate ways even if it hasn’t been the full two years.
“So, when are we getting married?” I ask, praying it’ll take at least a month before the ceremony.
“Today.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Bryce
Fiona stares out the car window, her expression pensive. She agreed to the marriage and didn’t object to any of the terms, but something doesn’t sit right with me. Maybe it’s the dejection on her face, as though she’s given up.
It bugs me that she hasn’t even glanced at me ever since she signed the paper, even though I really shouldn’t care what she does as long as I get what I want.
She might be sulking because she didn’t get the kind of proposal she’s always dreamed of.Tough shit—I didn’t think I would marry the woman who smashed my heart to pieces either, so we’re even. Still, part of me squirms. Last night when she held me and hummed for me, my heart beat unsteadily. It was disorienting, like I’d been catapulted back in time. The mental and emotional strain that had been with me for so long eased, allowing me my first true rest in…forever.
I thought maybe there’d been a change of heart on her part. But much to my disappointment, she acted like the soothing, intimate moment last night didn’t happen. I thought she’d say something about the past to excuse her betrayal, even if it was just to give me the tired “It just wasn’t working for me” line.
I couldn’t bring it up, either. There wasn’t a way to raise the topicwithout sounding needy and vulnerable. And I can’t afford that with Fiona.
