Blackmailing the Virgin(22)

“But trust me, Felicity. I pay attention to everything you do. Like when you get nervous, like you did walking across the stage at graduation, you tap your index finger against your palm. Or when you get turned on, you push your hair behind your ear and let your finger trail down you neck.” He leans in again like he’s going to kiss me “Or just when you’re about to cum, you let out these little puffs of air. I’m already addicted to the sounds. I’m not even sure I could cum without hearing them now.”

He turns, going back to cutting up his steak and puts a piece in his mouth. I just stare at him, shocked by what he said.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong? Let’s not start this marriage off on the wrong note. We can make this work. We could be perfect together.”

I look back down at my food. I want to laugh. Start out on the wrong note? This whole relationship seems to be one wrong note after another. We’re a freaking mess. He blackmailed me. How is this marriage not starting on anything but a wrong note? To top it off, he only married me because I’m knocked up. It’s the only reason he even came for me.

I hadn’t heard from him in months. Not a call or anything. It’s not like it would be hard for him to have found me, even less so after I saw the stupid file he had on Mark, which he got himself in under an hour!

But as pissy as that all makes me, he’s right. I don’t want to fight with him. Hell, a giant, pathetic part of me is happy he forced us together, because he was right that night in his hotel room when he made me tell him I loved him. Because I do. I have from that very first kiss. He flutters into my every thought, whether I want him to or not. Even if I make a conscious effort not to think about him, it still proves that I’m thinking about him.

“I just didn’t see my marriage starting this way. I wanted…” I trail off, my emotions getting the best of me. Calder stands abruptly, the chair hitting the floor. He picks me up, making me squeal, and sits me on the kitchen’s breakfast bar so we are at eye level with each other. His hands land on either side of me, caging me in.

His movements are abrupt and fast, but his eyes are soft. Filled with concern.

“Tell me. Tell me what you wanted. What were your plans?” His voice is just as soft as the look on his face.

“I thought you made our plans already. What does it matter now?”

“You want me.”

I narrow my eyes at his cocky words.

“Hell. I wanted you, too. Why else would I come crawling into your bed?”

“Because the word is I’m easy.” There I go again, not holding anything back.

“I was a dick. I was pissed and jealous. Mad at myself for not finding you sooner. I hated the thought that there could have been men before me who had the chance to steal you from me. I was even more pissed because I thought you might move on to someone else. I’m fucking sorry for that. I should have known. I could taste your innocence that first night I kissed you on the balcony. There was no faking that. I felt it deep, but it just seemed too good to be true. I hadn’t had anything sweet in my life in years and there it was again. I was fucking shit-scared it would be taken from me.”

“That was really sweet.” I have to admit, when he throws these little tantrums over my attention or being jealous, a little part inside me gets a thrill from it. I know part of him cares.

“Tell me.” He leans in a little more as if he can’t wait to hear what I have to say. “You want to play your violin? I won’t stop you. Your own studio? I’ll build you one. Just tell me what you want, sweetheart, and I’ll give it to you.”

“I wanted to be in love when I got married. Then have babies and all that. Everything is just backwards.”

“You do love me,” Calder growls.

I just roll my eyes.

“Say it.” I can’t count how many times he’s made me say it now. He never says it though.

“I love you,” I tell him. I know he won’t stop until I say it, and it’s true. I just can’t bring myself to say it on my own. Maybe because he doesn’t love me.

His body visibly relaxes. I almost feel like he might be starved of love. It reminds me how little I know about him. Calder has told me nothing of his family. I only know his parents both died seven years ago because I read it online during my internet stalking of him.

“Let me show you, baby. Don’t fight me every step. I can talk till I’m blue in the face and say sorry over and over until I’m hoarse for the way I acted, but let me show you. Give this a chance. You’ll see I’ll give you anything you could ever want. Will you do that?”