Instead, I’m wondering how soon he’ll come back to bed.
The shower shuts off, and a moment later, he emerges, water still beading on his skin, a towel slung low around his hips. He tosses a warm, damp washcloth onto the bed beside me.
“Clean up,” he says. “Unless you want me to do it for you.”
There’s a challenge in his voice. Part of me wants to say yes, just to see what he’d do. But I have to draw the line somewhere. Have to maintain some semblance of control.
“I can manage,” I say, taking the cloth. “Thanks.”
He watches as I wipe between my legs, his eyes darkening again. I should feel self-conscious, but after what we just did, modesty seems pointless.
“Are you on birth control?” he asks abruptly.
The question catches me off guard. “Yes,” I answer. “Since I was 14.”
His eyebrow lifts. “Fourteen?”
“Not for that,” I clarify quickly. “For awful periods. I had endometriosis. The pill was the only thing that helped.”
He nods once, accepting this without further comment. I’m not sure why I felt the need to explain myself to him. It’s none of his business.
Except that it kind of is now, considering what we just did. Considering what he just did inside me.
“You should have told me before,” he says, turning away to pull clean boxer briefs from a drawer.
“When, exactly?” I throw back. “Between ‘I do’ and you bending me over the bed? Or maybe in the middle of you spanking me for—what was it again? Insubordination?”
His lips twitch. “You liked it.”
I open my mouth to deny it, but what’s the point? He felt how wet I got when his hand came down on my ass. Heard the noises I made.
“That’s not the point,” I mutter.
“No,” he agrees, dropping the towel without warning to pull on the boxers. “The point is that I need to know these things. For practical reasons.”
“Practical,” I repeat. “Right. Because all of this is just a business transaction.”
He shrugs, entirely unbothered. “A transaction with benefits.”
The casual dismissal stings more than it should. I don’t even like him, so why does his cold assessment make me feel… cheap?
“Got it,” I say, pulling the sheet higher over my body. “A mutually beneficial arrangement. I get my family home secured; you get… whatever it is you needed a wife for. And convenient access to a warm body. Very modern.”
His expression doesn’t change, but something flickers in his eyes. He doesn’t offer any explanation for why he needed this marriage, and I’m not about to ask. Not now, when I’m naked and still trembling from what he just did to me.
He moves to the bed, sitting on the edge, his eyes sliding over me like he’s assessing property.
“Don’t act offended. We both know what this is.”
“Sex,” I say flatly. “Just sex.”
“Exactly.” His hand lands on my thigh, heavy and proprietary. Not affectionate, just possessive. “Though I’ll admit, better than I anticipated.”
My body responds to his touch instantly, skin prickling with awareness despite my irritation.
Traitor.
“Glad to exceed expectations,” I say dryly, even as my legs part slightly of their own accord.
