Page 40 of The Irish Arrangement

I nodded. “Obviously.” Damn, he looked different. Tired, but not worn. That stubble growing in on his jaw made him look more rugged, but the new scrape on his cheekbone threatened to make me feel sympathetic somehow.

“No.” He locked his face down, showing me a stoic mask as he gripped my shirt and yanked it back over me.

I opened and closed my mouth. What? He didn’t want to fuck me now? After all those times he’d reiterated what my purpose was?

I warred between rage that he was rejecting me and disappointment that he wouldn’t want me. With his knuckles brushing against my breasts and touching my skin, I felt that now-familiar ache of desire for him.

Ashamed and annoyed that I might lust after his body while he could reject mine, I stared at him and waited to know why he was changing things up now.

“No?” I sassed back.

Finished with buttoning my shirt, still not meeting my gaze and chill as ever, he zipped my jeans and rebuttoned them, too.

“No,” he said, finally lifting his dark brown gaze to me.

Then he confused me even more, taking my hand and leading me out of the room.

15

DECLAN

Get it over with? I glanced at her, frowning as we walked down the hallway.

Fuck that. I wasn’t going to get it over with. Not like a chore. Fucking her wasn’t a job anymore. It couldn’t be after she showed me last time how much she thrived on my rough ways.

Seeing her offering herself up to me should have excited me. Thrilled me. But unlike the first time when I practically raped her, I wanted more of her slow surrender that she gifted me last time. When she was an unwilling but active participant, when her body betrayed her with desire she couldn’t deny.

“Let me get this straight,” she bit out before we reached the stairs. “You don’t want to fuck me?”

“No.” I clamped my teeth down on my lower lip to hide my smile. She was humiliated. Stung. I was amused with how bristled she was about my telling her no.

“Not right now,” I added.

And not like that. I’d be damned if she tried to suffer through it like a lifeless, emotionless doll, uninterested and unattached. Now that I knew how damn gorgeous and passionate she was when she gave in and showed me the depth of her arousal for me, I wanted it all. I planned to take everything from her, and getting it over with would no longer apply.

She’d scream for me again. I’d test her and tease her. I would make her dance along the line bordering between pain and pleasure once more. Many times more.

“I don’t want to get it over with.”

She whipped her head toward me, glaring as we walked down the steps. “That’s what I’m here for, isn’t it? To be your fuck toy?”

I hauled her into my arms and spun her until her back smacked against the wall on the first floor. “You’re here to be my wife.” Lowering my head, I wondered what she might do if I kissed her. At our wedding, she was so shy. Now?

Her lids fluttered as I leaned in more. “You said…” She swallowed then licked her lips. “You said you didn’t care who your wife was. You don’t care about me, so why shouldn’t we just get it out of the way? Then you can leave again.”

I took in her stubborn expression, not a pout but more like a smirk. I fought the need to kiss it off her face.

“Do you like it when I’m gone?”

“What does it matter?” She fidgeted, trying to dodge me and how I had her caged to the wall. “You’ll do with me as you please, no matter what.”

“Do you?” I asked, moving my head closer to rub along hers. My lips brushed over her cheek, up toward her ear as I wedged my leg between hers. Pushing my thigh up to her core, grinding lightly, I sucked on her earlobe. “Or do you miss me?”

She grunted a rude laugh. “What’s there to miss?”

I pushed my thigh harder between her legs, giving more friction to her clit. “You tell me.”

“You want to know what I miss?” she challenged hotly, shoving me back.

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