Page 68 of The Unwanted Wife

Nate

Her breath hitches, and a blush coats her cheeks. She likes it when I call her my wife, and fuck, if I don’t love the sound of it from my lips. She raises her glass and takes a sip, then makes a sound of approval in her throat. My cock twitches, and my thigh muscles bunch. Those little noises she makes are going to snap my restraint. I knock back the rest of my water like its tequila, and wish it burned its way down my throat. Unfortunately, the sparkling water is much softer. Yet, as I watch her tuck into the salad, as she licks the vinaigrette from her lips, the sight of her pink tongue unbalances me enough that I lose my hold on my glass. I manage to catch it before it crashes into the table, then place it down with exaggerated care. I take a few mouthfuls of my own appetizer. Not because the food isn’t delicious, but because my mind is racing ahead with thoughts of the many different ways, I’m going to fuck her tonight, I give up all pretense of eating and watch her.

She wipes up the dressing on her plate with a piece of bread, then flicks a look in my direction. Whatever she sees on my face has her cheeks turning pink. "What?" she grumbles.

"You have something, here—" I reach out and scoop up a drop of the vinaigrette from her lower lip, bringing it to my mouth to suck on my finger.

Her eyelids grow heavy. Our gazes catch, hold. The air between us grows electric. She swallows, reaches for her glass of Champagne and takes a sip. When she places it down, I top her up, and refill my glass of water. I rise, walk around, and swap out her now empty appetizer plate with the entrée.

She seems amused by my gesture. "You playing at being my waiter?"

"I’d be happy to wait on you hand and foot for the rest of my life."

Her lips part, and her expression softens. "You’re a closet romantic." Her tone is almost accusing.

"Because I like to take care of you?"

"Exactly." Her eyebrows knit. "When I think of how much I hated you all these years… Maybe I still do, because you’re so effortlessly charming, it’s unfair.”

"Can’t help it if I’m naturally charismatic." I smirk.

"A-n-d there he is.” She waves an arm in the air. “And just as I was starting to think you’re more likable than you let on."

"Don’t make that mistake. I’m not the kind of man you want to develop feelings for."

I wince. I want her in my life. I want to bind her to me so she never leaves, yet every time I sense her getting close, I say something to push her away. Something inside me is resistant to the idea. Perhaps it’s my time on missions where I’ve had to be hyper vigilant about everyone and everything around me that’s ingrained this deep sense of mistrust. The only person I let myself rely on was Ben, and I failed him. I can’t fail his sister. Already, I feel too much for her. Already, fucking her has made me feel closer to her than anyone else. Already, I’m losing my perspective when it comes to her. And if I lose my edge, it’s not long before I fail her in some way.

She firms her lips. "Well then, you shouldn’t fuck me like it means something."

I tilt my head. "It does mean something. It means everything when we fuck.“ And that is the problem. When I’m around her, I can’t think straight. I lose all sense of time and place. I lose the ability to ensure nothing ever happens to her.

I round the table and slide back into my chair, then reach for my own entrée. It was kind of James to make the chicken just how I like it, but right now, I might as well be eating mud, for all the taste I have in my mouth. Nevertheless, it is my wedding dinner, so I manage to scoop a few forkfuls into my mouth. When I look up next, it’s to find an intense expression on her features.

"Why do you say that?"

I set down my fork, then pat at the corners of my mouth with a napkin before dropping it at the side of my plate. "Because it’s true. Because in all these years, I’ve never fucked a woman while I looked into her eyes."

"Oh." She seems taken aback, then reaches for her Champagne and takes a sip. "I think you’re telling the truth."

I’m about to say I don’t lie, then realize, that’s not true. Not anymore. So, I settle for tossing back the rest of my sparkling water, before topping myself up again.

"I guess the advantage of your not drinking any alcohol is that, uh... that… You know?—"

"My performance won’t be hampered in any way?" I look at her from under my eyelashes.

"Exactly." She tips up her chin, as if to counter the blush on her cheeks.

How did I get so lucky, to end up with a woman who has that core of innocence at heart? And this, despite her being an entrepreneur and taking care of a man she’s as close to as her own brother.

How can I think of living without her? Is there any way she won’t leave me when the truth comes out? Maybe. If I own up and tell her everything now… If I stop with the lies and tell her why I did it. If I don’t delay the inevitable and let her decide for herself that what I did was for her own good. But it’s too early to do that. We’ve only just gotten married. If I had a month or, at least, a couple of weeks to consolidate our relationship… And then, once I’ve made sure she’s been added to the Davenport’s list of successors in G-Pa’s estate… Once her future is taken care of… I can tell her everything. Then, no matter what she decides about us, I’ll be able to rest easy.

"When it comes to you, it’s the opposite, that’s the problem."

"Eh?"

"There’s not a moment when I haven’t thought of you in these past years. There hasn’t been a single night when I haven’t wished you were next to me. There’s not a single morning I haven’t woken wishing I was buried inside of you. I’ve fucked you exactly three-thousand six-hundred fifty times in my head since the day I kissed you."

She gapes. "But… How could you… I mean, how did you?—"

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