Page 40 of The Duke and the Temporary Bride

He smiled at her, she returned it, and they held stares in a way that if they lingered for too long, all attempts to continue this so-called friendship were doomed to failure.

Indeed, even without the anger, she could feel the same pull. Her body already flushed. Images of his hulking frame pressing against her fresh in her mind. Their legs entwined. Their bodies pressed close.

Perhaps if they were to have sex one more time, it would not be so bad…

“On that note, I best be getting up.” Benedict extricated himself from under her, shuffled to his knees, and then stood up. He was stark naked, and she averted her eyes, her cheeks flushing furiously. “And perhaps find my clothes.”

“Good idea,” she said as she awkwardly looked around the room, covering her chest with her arm at the same time. “Me too.”

“Supper tonight,” Benedict then spoke as he stepped around her, bending down and scooping up his pants. “Will you be—perhaps it will be fine for me to join you? If that is agreeable with you?”

She smiled. “I would like that.”

He smiled back. Again, they stared at one another, so much to say but too afraid to say it.

Could this really work? Friends? With Benedict, of all people?

“I will see you then,” he said and tore his eyes away.

And then, before she could say anything else, he strode out of the room, stark naked.

“Friends…” Selina muttered to herself, testing out the word as she sat there. “Friends…”

A simple enough concept to grasp, to be sure. But to execute it? She had hated this man just a few days ago. Despised him, as she was certain that he despised her. The only way they could talk was through shouting, but they could not do that anymore either. And so, friends it was.

Was such a thing possible? Were they doomed to go back to their old ways of anger and fury, and then, most likely sex? Only time would tell, she supposed. And if the worst were to happen and they had a repeat of what happened earlier… well, that would not be the worst thing either.

Chapter Fourteen

“But which is your favorite?” Benedict asked around a mouthful of venison.

“I told you, I do not have a favorite. I love them all equally.”

“Oh, you do not.” He swallowed and looked pointedly at her. “Everyone has a favorite sibling. Yes, you might love them all, but do not lie to me.”

“I am not lying.”

“You are,” he insisted as he reached for his glass of wine and took a large sip. “And quite frankly, I feel obliged to call you out on it.”

“How so?”

“This effort of yours to be friends,” he said simply as he put down his wine glass and began to cut his meat. “It will not work if you insist on treating me like a fool.”

“Ha! But you make it so easy.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Careful now, Selina. I thought you promised to be friendly.”

“It is hard when someone accuses me of lying.”

“Which is hard not to do when one is being lied to so blatantly.”

She rolled her eyes. “You are not going to drop this, are you?”

He shrugged. “Wasn’t the point of this entire thing for us to get to know each other better? How can we do such a thing if you refuse to open up?”

“I suppose I was hoping for small talk. The weather. What books we are reading. That sort of thing.”

He speared a piece of venison with his fork and tore at it with his teeth. “I think we can both agree that you and I are well beyond small talk by now.” He winked. “All things considered.”

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