Page 33 of The Unwanted Wife

"What was that?"

"I do like it," she says in a low voice, then yelps when I slap her left-butt cheek; then the right, then the left again.

"What was that you said?" I growl.

"I said I like it, you bastard,” she yells.

I laugh. And that makes her squirm even more. And when I trail my fingers down the fabric of her skirt, which covers the demarcation between her arse-cheeks, she digs her fingers into my hips. "What are you doing?"

In reply, I march behind the counter and into the kitchen. I pull out the only seat—a bar stool at the island in the center—with my boot clad toe and sit down, then lower her to my lap.

She yelps again, then grabs at my legs to right herself. "I… I don’t think the barstool can take both our weights."

"What are you talking about?" I cup the curve of one butt-cheek, and when she bucks, I know her skin must be smarting from my spanking and that my touch must send flickers of pleasure-pain sparking over her nerve-endings.

"Don’t act like you don’t know," she scoffs.

"I have no idea what you’re talking about, especially not when your ripe-as-a-peach backside is all I can see."

"Don't you mean, my watermelon-shaped, fat arse, which is the reason they invented double doors?"

I pause, and this time, when I bring my hand down on her backside, she yells, "What in the ever-lovin’ Succession!"

"That was for insulting my fiancée’s gorgeous rear, and this"—my palm connects with her butt with enough force that her entire body jolts—"is because you put yourself down."

"That hurt," she yelps.

"Good," I murmur.

"What the—!" She turns her head and scowls up at me from between the strands of her hair that hang down over her face. "I can’t believe you said that."

"Better believe it. I’m not letting anyone disparage my future wife."

"Future fake wife…"

"There’s nothing fake about our wedding ceremony."

She shoves her hair back from her face. "But this entire relationship is a farce."

Is it?

When I don’t reply, her forehead wrinkles. "It is, isn’t it?"

"You tell me."

"You’re confusing me, Nate."

"Nothing to be confused about. As far as the world is concerned, we’re madly in love and getting married."

"Exactly, but the two of us know it’s not real."

"But we have to pretend it is, so it comes across as real to the others."

She opens and shuts her mouth, then shoves at me. "Can you let me go, please, so I can stand up and—" I grip her waist, then haul her to sitting position, so she’s straddling me. There’s a ripping sound, and she glances down at her now torn skirt. "Oh no, that was my favorite."

"I’ll buy you ten more."

She scowls up at me. "I like this one."

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