“And what does this entail, exactly?”
“Marriage.”
“For fuck’s sake, Cassidy. Marriage and?”
“An heir,” she says in a rush.
Once again, I find myself blinking at her blankly. I slide back down on the sofa, sprawling with my head once again resting against the back. I close my eyes and mutter, “Of course. Why should I be surprised?”
“I know, I know. It’s not ideal, and it is a huge price even for ownership of a professional hockey team.”
I peek an eye open at her and mutter, “So I marry you, impregnate you, watch you grow and birth my child, and then what? You expect me to piss off into the wind?”
“No. I would never expect you to turn your back on your child unless that’s what you truly wanted. But I believe once the terms of the marriage have been met, we could easily co-parent together. You would have your team; I would have some semblance of freedom.”
“You wouldn’t consider yourself then shackled to motherhood?”
“Better to be shackled to something of my own creation than people who would want to control me in all other areas of my life.”
“But you’d also be shackled to me? Because that’s what co-parenting is. And I’ll tell you right now, it would be a 50/50 arrangement for my entire life.”
“Still a far better deal than the alternative.”
“And what are the terms regarding the length of this marriage?”
“Once the heir has been born, divorce proceedings can begin. So, depending on how long it takes to conceive, I figure we’re looking at one to two years. Assuming you’ve got good swimmers, of course.”
My hands come up and cover my face at the mention of my swimmers. “I can assure you there’s nothing wrong with my swimmers.”
She giggles, and when I look over at her, she’s attempting to hide her smile behind her hand and failing. “Hopefully, you won’t have any issues with performing, given your intense dislike for me.”
My hands fall away from my face, and I stare at her incredulously. I’m not sure if she’s actually naïve or if she’s feigning ignorance, but if she pays one iota of attention to me sitting here sprawled beside her in my goddamn sweatpants, she’d know my body has zero problems with the idea of fucking her.
“I guess that’s one plus of being a man,” I reply, my eyes scanning down her body. She isn’t doing anything even remotely sexy, but for some reason her subtle awkward shyness has blood leaving my brain and rushing right to my dick. “I don’t necessarily have to like you to want to stick my dick in you.”
She squints at me, and I laugh as her cheeks pinken slightly. Wanting to push her buttons a bit more and increase her obvious embarrassment, I shift my hips, and when her eyes meet mine, I look down, drawing her attention to my lap and the obvious erection in my pants. Her eyes widen comically, and this time, her hand over her mouth cuts off her gasp of surprise. And then she mutters, “Ren. Oh my God.”
Now, I laugh, getting genuine enjoyment from her discomfort.
She slides over, putting about a foot of space between us, and annoyance bubbles up inside me. I sit up, closing that distance between us and lean in, whispering, “What do you say, princess? Do I get to take you for a spin before I make my decision?”
Her gasp of outrage increases my annoyance, so I grit out, “What’s the matter, princess? You think you can just come in here and dangle a whole fucking hockey team under my nose and I’ll agree to give up the rest of my life without any kind of assurance you’ll be able to fulfill your end of the bargain?”
“I said I’ll give you the fucking team,” she sputters. “What other part of the bargain is there?”
Fury rushes through my veins, and even though I’m not entirely certain what has me so pissed off, I reach out, delvingmy fingers into the hair at the back of her head as I jerk her close to me. “And blindly resign myself to being saddled with a cold and frigid woman?”
“I’m not fucking frigid, you asshole. Just because I don’t throw myself at your feet, doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy a healthy sex life.”
“And that’s where we’re different, princess. You refer to it as a healthy sex life, and I refer to it as pure, unadulterated, animalistic fucking.”
Her breath hitches at my words, and her body shudders, and for a moment, I almost release her. But then she says, through gritted teeth, “I can give you pure, unadulterated, animalistic fucking, you goddamn dickhead.”
I chuckle, my lips ghosting along her cheek. “I don’t fucking believe you.”
She turns her head away, and I take the opportunity to grip her hair harder, pressing my face against her neck, my body tightening at the choked moan that falls from her lips as my teeth nip her pulse point. Then I pull back, staring into her eyes as I say, “I bet you like to lie there on your back pretending a pencil dick and some flowery words will be enough for you.”
The slight tinge of desire on her features evaporates, fury sparking in her eyes as she snarls, “You motherfucker.”
