Page 91 of Love in Fine Print

Part of me wanted to chalk the past ten days up to the holidays and move on. Our complete disregard for the contract we’d signed was merely a byproduct of being forced to share a bed. But I honestly wasn’t sure how realistic that was.

It had been difficult enough trying to control myself with Ben after we’d spent our wedding night together. Now that we’d spent over a week sharing a bed, now that I knew just where to kiss him to make his entire body shudder with pleasure, now that I knew how good it felt when he was buried so deep inside of me that I didn’t know where I stopped and he began, I just didn’t see us going back to being roommates.

Which was why I’d spent the morning working on an addendum to our original agreement.

When I heard the front door open, I grabbed the paper from the printer and walked into the foyer where I found Dolly squirming at Ben’s feet. She flopped on her back, and he bent down to give her a good belly rub as he talked on the phone.

“Okay, that sounds great. I’ll see you then. Bye.”

He looked up as I closed the door to the office behind me. His face lit up as he stood and began walking toward me with apredatory gleam in his green eyes as the corners of his lips tilted up in a bad boy grin.

My lady parts followed Dolly’s lead and flopped on their back getting ready for a good rub, but instead of giving in to the satisfaction I was sure his hands could give me, I asked, “Who was on the phone?”

“Coach Graham’s wife, Madeline. She’s throwing him a retirement party at the end of February and asked me to speak at it. You’re invited, too. She said she’d love to see you.”

I pulled out my phone. “What’s the date?”

“The twenty-fourth.”

I clicked on my calendar and saw that it was a Friday, and I had court at four p.m. “I have court.”

My gaze lifted to meet his, and I thought I glimpsed a bit of disappointment in his eyes. Seeing that flash had me thinking things I should absolutely not be thinking. Things like rescheduling my court date so I could go to Minnesota with Ben to hear him speak at his coach's retirement dinner.

Things a wife would do.

No, I shook that thought out of my mind. This was exactly why I’d spent the morning drafting an addendum to our agreement.I held out the paper I’d just printed out.

“What’s this?” he asked as I watched him scan the paper.

“It’s an intimacy clause.”

His jade green eyes lifted to look up at me before casting back down at the paper as he slowly repeated, “Intimacy clause.”

“Yes. I feel like now that aspect of our relationship has changed, and we needed to address it.”

His chin dipped in a non-verbal response, and I waited for him to read the doc.

As I stood in the entryway, I grew very aware of our breaths, which were the only sound in the small space. Or maybe the whooshing in my head were my thoughts spinning around. Iwasn’t sure. What I was sure of was that my palms had grown damp.

I had no idea how Ben would respond to the new clauses I was introducing to our arrangement. I’d outlined, in fine detail, how I’d like the rest of the time we lived together to be.

Without saying a word, he walked into the office and crossed to his desk. He lowered down into his chair, grabbed a pen, and began to write on the paper.

He stood and handed it back to me. “My counteroffer.”

I couldn’t help but grin as I took the paper. Some guys would have treated me like I was insane for drafting an intimacy clause. Ben never made me feel like I was too regimented, too cold, or too career-focused. He just accepted me for who I was, and even appeared to be amused by my more eccentric habits. Which made sense, considering this wasn’t a real relationship. Something I found I was having to remind myself of on a near-constant basis.

“You want to allow PDA anytime, anywhere?” I felt my throat tighten. “And spend every night together.”

In my draft, I’d amended all physical contact to occur at night, in bed. I’d also allowed us to spend two nights together. I assumed he’d want his space again. Also, I was hoping that, in moderation, I’d be able to handle the intense connection we shared.

Apparently, he didn’t feel the same way.

He took a step closer to me. “As long as you’re my wife, I want you in my bed. Every night. And I want to kiss you and touch you and fuck you even when you’re not in my bed.”

My heart pounded in my chest, and my mouth watered at his bold statement. My mouth wasn’t the only part of my body that grew wet. I stepped to the side of him and lowered down into the chair. I pretended to be poring over his changes, but the truth was I needed a moment to clear my head.

Typically, I excelled in negotiations. I’d had more than one mediator commend me and my ability to get everything my client was asking for without creating a contentious environment. It was something I prided myself on.

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