"How? How is being labeled an expert on houseplants going to help me?"
He graced her with a shit-eating grin. "Because when I introduce you to the highbrows, not one is going to feel threatened by a writer with an affinity for houseplants. You'll be so far off their radar, you won't have any trouble breaking your big story."
Damn him, he had a point. She moved away, but his grip on her arm tightened, reeling her in until there wasn't room for water to run between them.
"As for my second point," he said, his focus intent upon her. "I'm only going to say this once more, so make damn sure you're listening." He increased the hot water, eliminating her chill, but he didn't draw away. Instead, he planted his other hand on the wall, effectively caging her between the cold marble and his every hot, unending inch. "There hasn't been anyone since you. No. One."
She swallowed. "Somehow I doubt that."
"Careful what you say," he warned, peering at her from darkened eyes. Though the water had turned blissfully warm, he remained still a rigid, powerful mass of man. "I don't appreciate what you're insinuating. A casual affair wasn't something I wanted in my life then, and it still isn't."
She opened her mouth and closed it again.
Though for a moment she'd thought him angry, he seemed to have softened somewhat. His attention drifted from her eyes to her mouth. "You're wet," he said.
"That would be the water."
No one.
She shivered again, despite the steam assaulting her. It'd be easy to attribute blame to the cold wall at her back, but that wasn't it. The shaking that had started at her core and crept down her limbs to her extremities couldn't be caused by mere cold. It was Knox.
It was always Knox. But why? Clearly she had no desire whatsoever to be happy in life-she couldn't have chosen a bigger complication if she'd tried.
Droplets gathered on her lashes, but her clouded view didn't obscure the dreadfully heated look in his eyes. He could tear her apart without trying, and rather than protect her, her misguided urges begged her to open herself to him and take whatever he'd give.
"I've developed a bit of a habit lately," he murmured, "of removing your clothes."
She said nothing. Just stood there, trembling in the hot water. Trying to process his words.
He leaned down and brushed his lips against hers. Then, while the room spun, he pulled her dress up and over her head, leaving her standing there in her underwear.
Her chest threatened to implode under the pressure. "Knox," she stammered. "You're not being fair."
"You're probably right," he murmured. "Do you want me to stop?"
Of course not. What sane woman would want him to stop? Me. But then again, she'd probably lost her claim to sanity when she'd agreed to marry a man who vowed he'd never love her. "That depends on what you're planning on doing."
"What is it you don't want me to do?"
Do anything you want. I'll figure out how to breathe again in the morning. God, she really was a walking stereotype. Put her in the shower with a absurdly attractive, naked guy, and she fell apart.
Not this time.
She brushed past him and snatched the only towel off the back wall. She wrapped it around herself, and paused just long enough in her exit to answer his question.
She had to force herself to look at him, but the words came easily. "That's an easy one, Knox. Just don't do anything you can't take back."
Chapter Nine
A week. A week of trying … and failing.
She'd wanted to stay mad at Knox, but he had a bad habit of having coffee ready in the morning and sleeping a little too close to her side of the bed. He'd brought her tacos twice. Chocolate daily. And despite what she'd determined to be a rather cruel streak of kindness, he refused to spill one detail about the ceremony, citing a desire to surprise her. The only thing on which he consulted her was the guest list, or the lack thereof. With just the two of them attending, intimate promised to be an understatement.
And now that she knew what he'd planned, she could have killed him.
He couldn't have known she'd always wanted to get married on the beach, but for some godforsaken reason, the universe had turned against her, and there they were. Her dream wedding, but all wrong. No family. No friends. No groom who would rather die than live without her. Instead she had him, utterly devastating in yet another tux, looking perfect enough to have been plucked from the top of a grossly overpriced wedding cake. And a white dress simply gorgeous in its simplicity. And their carefully worded vows all hinged on technicality.
To cherish and respect, to greet with tender care, to honor with fidelity … to split the difference on the thermostat. Okay, maybe not that last part, but without mention of love, they might as well be discussing the mundane topics of cohabitation. Nor had the words "forever" or "'til death do us part" made the script. It was just as well-now she didn't have to live with herself for uttering untruths in their ceremony.
She had far greater issues to tend. Like the issue of the photographer, hell-bent on torturing her.
"Now, arms around each other. Like you're dancing-that's it! Very close. Closer. Now kissing!" He punched the last word like he'd invented the lip lock.
"Better do what he says," Knox whispered. "The sun will be down soon, and Mr. Enthusiasm over there is liable to drag us to another time zone for a do over if we don't get it right."
She laughed, much to the photographer's glee. "That's it! Beautiful! Now the kiss!"
Knox grinned and lowered his mouth to hers, and no matter how much she tried to remember he didn't love her and she wasn't about to fall for him again, she couldn't escape the brutal honesty of his touch. He held her with reassuring strength, yet with a tenderness simply not borne of legal documents. She recognized that the slight caress of his fingertips against her skin wasn't because he didn't want to touch her, but because he longed to. He didn't have to admit that desire with words-she could see the raw emotion in his eyes. The months apart had done nothing to erase what she'd known so intimately in the time they had spent together, and no amount of paperwork would change it now.
The sinking sun pulled the last pink rays of light from the sky, while a gentle onshore breeze carried with it the last of the warmth. But Knox was solid and strong, and the only chills Chloe experienced were from the perfection of the moment. She expected their silent dance to end when the last pinch of light fell to the waves and the photographer began to pack his gear, but it was then Knox tasted her one more time. And when he sought to deepen the kiss, she welcomed him, breathless, as was he. His hand slipped to her bottom and pulled her tightly against his happy place, which was ripe with enthusiasm from the feel of things. With the other arm, he cradled the small of her back, traced her spine, and finally, his fingers tangled in her hair with slow, sensual caresses, each one drawing her deeper against his body.
The photographer cleared his throat. "The photos, Mister and Missus. They are done."
Chloe wound her fingers into Knox's hair, gasping when he tightened his hold on her. The kiss didn't end. God help her, she didn't want it to.
"Okay, we talk later." The man's clipped accent ended on a chuckle.
Knox broke free a little, nibbling her lip. "Sorry," he murmured, though the words felt like a smile. "Got a little lost in the moment."
"Yeah." Chloe tried to reel herself in, but it was no easy task. It was worth the effort, though, because she was going to walk away from him. Walk … not limp.
"So, what's next?" she asked.
He turned and raised a hand to the photographer who, with the help of an assistant, was carting cases of equipment off the sand. Everyone else-the officiant and their witnesses, Toby and his date-had already left. The bypassed huge wedding not only sped up their nuptials … it also authenticated the claim that they wanted privacy. That was Knox's go-to answer for why they'd not been seen together, and she'd quickly adopted it-not that Lila had bought it, nor had Chloe's mother. She'd spent the majority of the week convinced Chloe would come to her senses and not marry Knox.
Chloe would be a lot less tortured if she had.
She pushed an errant strand of hair behind her ear, and the faint light glinted on her wedding bands. In addition to the three-stone, diamond engagement ring, she now wore a diamond-studded band. She'd probably never touched so much money in her life.
"Do you like them?" Knox asked. He wore a matching platinum band with a diamond inlay.
She wanted to ask if he was always so concerned with the feelings of his employees, but she bit back the snark. He'd done everything in the world to create a breathtaking wedding, even if it was for show. The thought left a sour taste in her mouth.