Page 49 of Perfectly Wedded

Vale hooks his fingers under the straps of my swimsuit and hauls me to a standing position.

“Then why are you sitting on the bed, looking all lonely and kissable, like you’re inviting me to join you?”

Am I that transparent?Apparently so, because I wasn’t even trying to look kissable or inviting.

“You should definitely not kiss me,” I warn. “Especially not on the lips.”

“Because we’ll regret this tomorrow?” His voice scrapes like gravel.

He’s only a breath away, his fingers still looped under my straps, holding me so close, he can probably feel my heartbeat thumping against this chest.

“Regret it for the rest of our lives,” I tell him. “And I wouldn’t want to ruin your life.”

“So kind of you to think of my future. But you’ve already ruined me, Sloan.”

My stomach drops.He didn’t just say that.He’s not playing fair, and he knows it.

“That’s why we need an end date,” I remind him. Maybe I’m playing dirty now, but we need to stop this madness before everything in me turns molten and burns down the bedroom.

“Sloan,” he warns, his hands sliding across my shoulders, sending a shudder down my body. “I will never give you an end date.”

Vale is a man who keeps his promises.If I force him to give me a date, he’ll have to keep it.

“Even if I ask nicely?” I say, tipping my chin up to him, hoping that if I look kissable again, he’ll give in.

“Never,” he says, his voice gravel.

I hitch myself toward his lips. “Even if I let you kiss me?”

His thumb trails up my neck to tease the corner of my jaw. “I thought you said it would ruin us.”

“You said it already had,” I whisper. I kiss the corner of his jaw, and he sucks in a breath.

“Irefuse,” he says in a strangled whisper.

Even if I regret making this tradeoff, it will be easier for us in the end. We won’t get emotionally involved. We’ll avoid falling into the erroneous belief that this week is something more than it is. His defenses are slowly crashing down. One more push...and the rest will fall.

“Can I tell you a secret?” My lips barely brush his and his eyes spark, a foretaste of something I know he wants too. My entire body exhales. “I’ve wanted you to kiss me ever since we got here.”

“Sloan,” he says, his voice thick. His jaw flexes, and I can tell it’s taking every ounce of resistance not to give in. “I want to,” he says, dipping his head, leaving a line of kisses along my collarbone.

Tingles flooddown my body.

“You don’t know how much I want this,” he groans. “But not if it means setting an end date to our marriage.”

I tip his face to mine. “But I thought we agreed. You just kissed me. That was the deal. A kiss for an end date.”

“I never promised not to kiss you other places,” he says, one corner of his mouth tipping up.

He tricked me at my own game.

“That’s not fair.” I put my hands on the sides of his face so he can’t get away, can’t leave me without giving me what I want.

Is this really about forcing him to give me an end date—or do I want him to kiss me like a husband should?

I lock my gaze on his. “I won’t take no for an answer.” Then I reach up and finally place my mouth on his. This time he doesn’t fight me. His hands slide to my back. As my lips graze over his, a loud rap at the hotel door knocks me back into reality.

“Vale? Sloan?” a woman calls through our door.

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