Patience is paramount, but with her, it’s impossible to shut down the impulse to have her, show her who she belongs to.
I follow her inside. “You can take the main bedroom.”
She smiles so sweetly, reeking of fakeness. “No, I’ll let you live with the ghost of my memory.”
“Pretty confident when I don’t have my hands on you. Shall we test that?”
She swallows, panic warring in her eyes with desire.
That look betrays her inability to reject me. In a twisted irony of fate, we met and fell in love—made to belong. Made to come together.
Her intention to stay away is infinitely less powerful than her need to give in.
It’s just a matter of time.
“I’m perfectly fine. You can do whatever you want. This marriage is on paper only,” she says haughtily.
“Is that so?” I ask, folding my arms over my chest. “You wouldn’t mind if I had someone beside you? Or several?” My voice is cool, the opposite of how I feel inside.
Give me something, mo run.
The spark blazes into a raging fire, her jealousy hot enough to incinerate me. “I didn’t stutter.”
“You aren’t truthful either,” I say, not wanting her to ever doubt my loyalty or my love.
In three long strides, I reach her, and she remains frozen in place. Lifting my hand, I give her time to stop me, but she doesn’t, resurrecting the embers of hope.
I brush my fingers along her cheek in gentle strokes, down her neck and along her shoulders. “I don’t notice other women, don’t desire another one. I love you,mo run. Even if you punish me for the rest of my life, that won’t change.”
“Big words. You say that now,” her voice cracks as if not believing me.
She’ll see. I have forever to prove to her that while I deceived her, my love has been truthful.
“Stop touching me,” she says, but the bark lacks any bite.
My arm drops, and she sighs in relief. It will be a constant tug of wills, a war of seduction.
“Let me help you with the dress.”
She opens her mouth ready to protest when I say in a matter-of-fact voice, “I’ll help you with the dress.”
She must notice how serious I am, aware she’d rather sleep in it than let me help her, but her comfort is not debatable to me.
Turning around, she presents her back to me. I gather her dark curls in one hand, pushing her hair over her shoulder.
The moment my fingers latch onto the first button, she sucks in a breath, just as affected as I am.
I imagined our wedding night differently. Not letting that thought depress me, I focus on undressing her. One after the other, the delicate buttons give, making it harder for me to distinguish between unwrapping my gift and solely solving a task.
“Very thoughtful of you to wear this dress. I would have ripped this thing off,” I say, voice thick with annoyance, but the underlying desire is unmistakable.
“And here I thought you were patient,” she smiles under her breath, rejoicing in my frustration.
“You did it on purpose,” I grumble.
She tilts her head, looking at me over her shoulder and batting her eyelashes with fake innocence. The gesture would be cute if I didn’t know the truth. “I’m thoughtful like that.”
“Yeah, you love to torment me.”
