Do I want him to kiss me again?
Crap, it shouldn’t disappoint me that Pope has all but maintained a polite distance from me, his touches light and never crossing a line. He chose to marry me because he wants me, right? Does he have strong control or have I lost appeal for him? I mean, he has to touch me to make babies, right? Maybe he’s old fashioned and wants to wait until after the wedding to have sex. Do I ask? We've been alone in here for at least thirty minutes and all he’s touched is my hand—
“Interesting,” he says. “You’re quite a study of emotions, Sienna. Are you going to voice them? All those questions I just saw cross your eyes?” I shiver when he cups my face, pulling my eyes back to his. "You're not thinking of running out of our deal, are you now, little rabbit?"
“No.” I swallow, trying to put some strength in my words. “I am a woman of my word.”
“Well then, are you scared of me?” Wouldn't that be easier if it were the reigning emotion? When I don't immediately answer, he chuckles, dark and deep. A rumbling noise that is so freaking sexy. "There's no need to look so worried, little rabbit. I won't bite. Not tonight anyway."
Not tonight.
For some reason, his words make my heart sink with disappointment. It’s frustrating to see him so unaffected by me when my heart and body are in turmoil. So maybe I do want him to bite me, maybe not hard but a little nibble. Jesus, what am I even thinking? I don't know anything about sex. For all its PR, it could be the worst thing ever. Besides, Pope is no doubt more experienced in the area and I might embarrass myself when we do it. After all, he’s thirty-eight to my twenty-four. Hard to look the way he does without having your share of hookups. No, I should dread the moment, fear it, so why am I disappointed by the thought of waiting?
“I’m not scared of you,” I offer in a shaky voice that doesn't seem to convince the man as his mouth stretches in a sexy grin. “Okay, maybe a little.”
“What about me scares you?”
I gnaw my bottom lip as I search my mind for an answer. “Well, you’re…” Tall, handsome, mature and intimidatingly wealthy and not even an asshole to add to that. Powerful. Dangerous. “You,” I finish lamely, making him laugh.
“It’s like I said, little rabbit, I don’t bite.” When Pope lets go of my hand, I immediately miss his touch, hating myself a little for just how much I liked having that physical connection. He turns away as he strips off his jacket and when he startsunbuttoning his shirt, I find myself frozen to the floor, mouth dry. “You’re welcome to use the connecting bathroom to get ready for bed…”
“Together?” I murmur to myself but he doesn’t seem to catch it, busy stripping off his shirt to reveal his back. Arms sleek with ripped muscles that seem to contract as he moves. His skin is bronzed and when he turns a little to the side, I see a sprinkling of dark hair covering most of his chest, with swirling, intricate tattoos looping from his chest over his shoulders, the only one that sticks out it the large palm tree on his left bicep, which must stand for something. The hard lines of his stomach to the narrow V-line that disappears into the waistband of his jeans. Watching him leaves me breathless and he doesn’t seem to notice.
“…If you need anything, just let me know and I’ll have it delivered to you. You can also pick which side of the bed you are more comfortable sleeping on and—”
“I’m a virgin.”
The words tumble out of me and I’m not certain they come out in that order, stopping him in his tracks. Silence stretches between us for several moments as he studies me from across the room, shirtless and so freaking hot. I feel heat climb my throat and cheeks, no doubt turning me red as a cherry and crap, I don't know why I said those words. I could've just let him find out in bed and—
“I know.”
“What?”
He must read the shock and horror on my face because he chuckles, turning an embarrassing moment into a mortifying one. “So open,” he says, stepping to cradle my face once more. “The way you wear your heart on your sleeve.” He rubs a fingerover my cheek that only works to light a fire underneath my skin, leaving my heart fluttering in my chest. “Sienna, I want to assure you that I won’t do anything until you’re ready. I know we have chemistry between us but I will not push you into something you're not comfortable with."
“But the deal was to get pregnant and have a baby within a year of the wedding. The will—”
“Offers flexibility in case you don’t get pregnant in time,” he offers in a deep calm voice meant to reassure me but he doesn't get into details and I can't tell if he's lying to put me at ease. Unlike me, his heart isn't written all over that ruggedly handsome face. “Sienna, look at me.” A finger tips my face to his and to his wild blues. “It doesn't matter what the will states. I am not going to force you to do anything you don't want to and if you're having second thoughts about the arrangement, we can end it now. I promise you that I will not ask for a repayment of any of the money I’ve given you.”
It should comfort me to have his word. His assurance.
But it doesn’t.
Does this mean that if we end our deal he'll proposition another girl? Kiss her? Hold her hand and show her around his place? Touch her as he did me in that office? Have sex with her?
It doesn’t make sense for me to feel the way I do, even less sense as I push into him, blazing with jealousy I don’t understand. “I don’t want to end the arrangement.” And have someone take my place. “I intend to abide by the terms of the agreement we made.” It’s the only way I’ll ever know the taste of that mouth again, the feel of his body against mine. How can I give that up? “I’ll prove that I intend to keep my end of the deal.”
Feeling bold, I put my hands on his chest, feeling my heart beat fast. When he doesn’t move away from my touch, I slidethem to his shoulders and grip them before rising to my tippy toes and pressing my mouth against his. It’s painfully awkward and a little unnerving. I feel a sense of disappointment when he doesn’t return my kiss but before I can push away, a hand snakes around my waist and I am pulled flush against a solid chest before his mouth finds mine again. There is nothing awkward about this kiss.
A whimper leaves my mouth and I find my back pressed against the wall, quick, clever hands sliding underneath my sweater and caressing my stomach. Fire explodes in my body, all over my skin and the knot in my stomach loosens.
He wants me. No, I was wrong to think he wasn’t affected by our closeness. He's just better at hiding it than I am and I feel the strength of it in the way he kisses me. I respond in kind, pushing out the little voice in the back of my head that calls me out for acting so wantonly with a man who is practically a stranger.
The will states that I need to be pregnant and have a baby in a year. I'm only fulfilling my end of the deal. That is all this is. I can enjoy this for the next…however long it takes us to conceive, moments like this with his hand slicking up my stomach and… “Oh,” I moan into the kiss when his hand cups my breast over my bra, sending a storm of heat filling my tummy. Making me wet between my thighs. My nipples turn painfully stiff and I arch into his touch, wanting, needing for him to tear off the little cotton between us.
“Jesus,” he groans into my lips, his voice husky. Sexy. “The way you respond to my touch...” His mouth covers mine again in a kiss so wet and hot, it arouses something in me I never knew existed. His tongue moves over mine in fevered need, his thumb caressing my sensitive nipple and making my core ache and burn with need. I whimper, rubbing my hands overhis shoulders, his chest and feeling the muscles of his stomach contract when my fingers drop. I’m gasping for air when he breaks the kiss and his mouth moves to the side of my neck, kissing and licking at the skin. My head falls to one side to allow him better access, shivering in his arms when his teeth tug on my earlobe.
When he moves back to help me shrug out of my sweater, I’m in a dazed state as I strip out of it. Too aroused to care that this stranger is unsnapping my bra, tugging at my jeans and pushing them down my hips.
