“But you weren’t okay with it,” Henry mumbled against the top of my head, fingers sliding comfortingly down the length of my hair. “That’s abundantly clear to me.”
“I wasn’t,” I agreed, hiccupping. “And I’m snotting all over your pyjamas.”
“Snot away.” His lips pressed to my temple, and I snuggled closer. Abernathy squirmed his way out from between us with an indignant yowl, and Henry took that as an invitation to tug me into his lap, cradling me against his chest.
“Where was your mother?” he asked, his lips moving against my hair.
“She died when I was five,” I explained, my words flat, emotionless. It had been a long time since I’d thought of my mother with anything other than disappointment.
“I’m sorry, Catnip …”
“I’ve made my peace with it.”
“And … the boy in the photo with you?”
I burrowed deeper into him, as if I could hide from the awful truth. “My brother, Andrei.” I choked back my misery and added, “He’s dead too.”
I held my breath, expecting more questions, but as the silence stretched, and the inevitable ‘how’ and ‘when’ and ‘why’ didn’t materialise, I allowed myself to slowly exhale.
“Did you think that knowing about your family would make me want to end our … agreement?” he asked instead. Was that a hint of hurt in his tone?
I shrugged. “Well, I wouldn’t blame you for wanting to distance yourself from being related to murderous criminals, especially when our marriage is not …”
“Is not what?” His voice was suddenly deeper, rougher.
“It’s not real,” I mumbled, glad that I was already crying, because saying those words out loud brought fresh tears to my eyes, and I did not need him knowing how much it hurt me to have to voice that truth.
If I could just have one night where this was a real marriage … I needed what always worked when the memories got too much. I needed to lose myself in sex. And I knew, from every touch, every glance, every kiss we’d shared so far, that sex with Henry would be so cataclysmically good that it might scare all the badness away for more than just the length of an orgasm.
The words were falling out of my mouth before my emotionally addled brain could call them back.
“What if itwas…?”
Henry stilled, even his chest barely moving against my cheek. “What do you mean?”
I tilted my head to look him in the eyes. “What if, just for tonight, we pretended that itwasreal?”
His warm fingers skimmed over my cheeks, swiping away the tears. “You mean … abandon the rules?”
“Just until morning, I promise.”
“Why?” he asked, his lips parted, even as his eyes went hooded.
“Because I want to … I want you.”
His lips parted in shock. And then his mouth slanted over mine, warm, and decisive, and delicious, the fruity tang lingering in his mouth from his vape.
“I’m guessing this is you agreeing?” I mumbled against his lips. He responded by groaning, licking deeper into my mouth.
O Doamne! He wanted this, wantedme. My body turned to hot mush as he gripped my neck. His other hand found my hip as I lay cradled in his lap, kneading the flesh there. I snaked my arms around his neck, finding a stray curl and toying with it. His hair was so soft, it was begging me to make a mess of it.
His hardening cock jabbed my backside, and I squirmed against it. He broke away, eyes dark, cheeks flushed, expression desperate.
“Is this really what you want?” he rasped. His cock twitched between my legs. “To have a night of no rules with me?”
I wriggled until I was straddling him. A tiny moan escaped me when the hard length of him lined up perfectly with my aching pussy. “Is this answer enough for you?”
“How far are you comfortable taking this, Catnip?”
