Page 47 of Bride Under Contract

He halted as the little head of the baby orangutan peeked out again, as if checking that all was clear.

Gosh, it was so human-looking, so tiny.

‘Carter...’ she gulped ‘...what if I am pregnant.’

His response was abrupt, even stern. ‘This proposal has nothing to do with that.’

‘But what if I am, though?’

‘Shall we cross that bridge if we come to it?’

She looked at the little head, peering from the nest, and knew that no matter what Carter and his lawyer might prefer, she’d already made her decision.

‘I shall be crossing that bridge, Carter,’ she warned him. ‘Should the issue arise.’

‘Your choice.’ He nodded. ‘So long as you know we’d still have no future.’ His eyes flashed a warning. ‘I’ll build you a nice bridge, though. Well maintained.’

He took out all the emotion—and, ridiculously, it helped.

She was trying so hard to think of this in practical terms. Using every ounce of logic to stop her heart from dreaming of dangerous scenarios where there was at least some possibility that there was more behind this offer. Some glimmer that this contract marriage held a whisper of hope for them both.

But he’d made it abundantly clear that it didn’t.

They waited another ten, maybe fifteen minutes, with the occasional glimpse of hands or a little head, and then there was something she had to ask.

‘Would we...?’ Her voice was croaky, so she cleared it. ‘Does this sham marriage involve us sleeping together?’

It was almost a ridiculous question. Her body was alive to him, she was almost fighting not to move closer to him, and yet it was so vital she asked it. She had collapsed beneath him. One night in his bed had taken her to places she had never known existed.

What would a year together entail?

And what happened when boredom set in and the naïve woman no longer amused him?

Before she even entertained the idea these were details she had to know.

The answers terrified her so.

‘Benedict is going to throw everything at me—as I intended with him,’ he said. ‘So in KL at least we would need to share a suite. It would look odd otherwise.’

‘And a bed?’

‘Of course—although with that said, sex should never be a chore,’ Carter said. ‘I certainly don’t want duty sex.’

‘So you’d go without for a year?’ she challenged.

‘God, no.’ He met her gaze, then. ‘If you don’t want sex to be a part of our agreement that’s fine. I’ll agree to be discreet.’

She felt a tremble in her lips and pinched them, reminded herself again that this was a contract...not real.

Then she looked at his strong profile and imagined all that maleness cooped up in a marriage he didn’t really want. And she knew that unless she set down some strong rules there was the chance for true heartbreak ahead.

‘If you sleep with another woman, then know you’ll never again sleep with me.’

‘Fine.’ He was still staring intently at the nest. ‘I’ll have Jonathon add that to the contract.’

God, he was brutal. Nothing moved or fazed him.

‘Along with my agreement to be discreet.’

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