Fire starts in my lions and spreads throughout my body. My blood sizzles as heat tightens my skin. I want her. And it’s something beyond physical relief that I crave. I want her pleasure. I want her on her back, her legs spread, and screaming my name as I bury my cock deep inside her and pound into her over and over and over again, until she can’t remember what it’s like to be without my dick inside—
Suddenly, she lets out a sharp cry, and my eyes snap open immediately.
“That hurts.”
My hand has tightened on her injured hip without my realizing. Cursing, I snatch it away. What the hell was I thinking? Sex is the last thing she needs right now.
I stand up and shove my fingers into my hair. Having intercourse—or any kind of sex really—is probably the stupidest idea I could have had, given what happened earlier. I don’t know anything about miscarriage risks, but I’m pretty sure inducing muscular contractions isn’t on the list of recommended activities.
“Sorry,” I say. “Bad idea.”
“It’s not your fault. We both got a little bit carried away.”
“That doesn’t mean it’s okay. One of us needs to keep our cool.”
She looks at me for a long time, then nods. “You’re right. We should’ve kept our cool.” She pulls her clothes up, wincing slightly as the hip bruise is covered again. She licks her lips, and her throat works. Her gaze darts from my face to her knee and back to my face.
The best thing to do would be to just take her to her room and end the evening now. But I know it’s too late.
And then they come, those four dreaded words:
“We need to talk.”
* * *
Paige
I can tell Ryder is looking for some graceful way to close the evening. But everything has just gotten to be too much. I can’t pretend like everything is fine, head back to my room, shower and go to bed.
“Honestly, we should have talked in the morning when you first approached me,” I add.
He merely looks at me, resting his hip against the dresser. Then he finally says, “Okay. Go ahead.”
I lick my lips and voice the words I thought about during my drive back to his Beverly Hills mansion. “We should…” My throat closes up, and I can’t say the next words. His taste still lingers on my lips, and I can still feel the imprint of his hand on my left hip. If I had a super power, I would go back in time and take Shaun’s threat more seriously. But it’s too late to wish for that now.
I drag in a deep breath and try again, because this is important. “We should quit now if you don’t trust me. Given your history with Lauren, I don’t think it would be good for you to be with a woman you suspect is using you for fame and fortune.” I stop, suddenly uncertain. It sounded so much better in my head.
He’s turned rigid. “It’s only for a year.”
The quiet, flat response tells me more than yelling and screaming would have. “Ryder. The biggest reason I was okay with this fake marriage was the fact that you trusted me. I thought I was doing it for my baby, but now I realize I wasn’t.”
“How did you come to that conclusion?”
“I thought about why I said okay. I could’ve found someone else who wouldn’t have complicated my life the way you will.”
He sighs but doesn’t speak.
I forge on because this is important and he has to understand. “I can’t be with a man who doesn’t trust me. That’s my minimum requirement. I don’t expect love in an arrangement like this, but I deserve respect. And how can you have respect without trust?”
“You’re right. You can’t.” He taps the edge of the dresser with a finger. “But shouldn’t you earn that trust?”
“I think four years is plenty of time. And sometimes it’s about a choice. You can choose to trust someone or not.”
“A choice?” Ryder rolls the word, testing its shape and feel. “Kind of an odd thing to choose. Why should I make such a choice right now?”
“Because I’m not an actress. I can’t convince people that I’m happy to be your bride when I know every time you look at me you see somebody who’s using you. If we end it now, you still have time to find someone who can play the role to your liking.”
Ryder doesn’t answer me immediately. Instead the muscles in his jaw flex and twitch. Maybe he’s taking the time to process what I’m telling him. After all, we only have three weeks until the ceremony. Or maybe he’s angry that I want to end it. I’m pretty sure he’s never thought that a woman would turn down a chance to be his wife. Most women would hack their way through half the Amazon jungle to get his ring on their finger.