Page 60 of If the Ring Fits

Her mouth drops open in outrage. “I wasn’t moaning!”

As she processes the rest of my words, a slow, wondering smile spreads across her face. “You find me attractive.” She sounds awed. A pause, then she clarifies unnecessarily, “Sexually, I mean.”

She looks simultaneously amazed and delighted by this revelation, as if the thought had never occurred to her before. As if she didn’t know she’s the most beautiful, seductive woman I’ve ever seen. I can only nod mutely, not trusting my voice.

Rowena’s smile brightens as if I just paid her the highest compliment. “Thank you.” She looks me dead in the eye. “We should definitely have sex, then.”

I nearly choke on air. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I say, “We should most definitelynothave sex.”

She takes a casual sip of her coffee, unbothered. “Hear me out.”

I adjust my posture, ready to shut this ridiculous idea down, but she barrels on.

“I find you attractive, you find me attractive.” Again, she says this last part as if it’s a novel concept. Wasn’t she there at my boss’s house when I basically groped her by the pool, or when I spooned her in bed? “And we agreed ours is a monogamousfake marriage, right? So technically, we can only sleep with each other.” She ticks off her points on slender fingers. “You can’t go to your secret sex dungeons while we’re pretending to be committed.”

I sputter indignantly. “For the last time, I do not frequent sex dungeons!”

Rowena waves a dismissive hand. “Semantics. The point is, it would be mutually beneficial to fool around a bit. And frankly, I’d like to enjoy sex again before my vagina is ripped apart like an over-ripe watermelon by this tiny human.” She pats her belly affectionately.

Cringing, I hold up a hand. “I could have gone my whole life without that visual, thanks.”

She shrugs, unrepentant. Then she pins me with a look, one brow arched. “So? What do you say? Wanna be fake spouses with benefits?”

“Absolutely not. We’re not having sex.” I purse my lips.

She frowns. “Why not? Is it because I’m pregnant? Everything still works fine down there. Better than fine, actually, with all the extra hormones, I’m basically horny all the time and?—”

“Please stop talking,” I beg, holding up a hand. “It has nothing to do with you being pregnant. It’s because sex would complicate an already confused situation. We need clear boundaries.”

“Ah.” Her eyes narrow and she sets down her yogurt bowl with a clatter. “Got it. Message received, attractive but notthatattractive.” She stands abruptly, snatching up her mug.

“Rowena, that’s not what I?—”

“It’s fine,” she cuts me off, voice clipped. “I’m going to put on something moredecent, since apparently my current attire is so repulsive to you.”

She stomps off toward her bedroom. I drag a hand down my face, cursing under my breath. I handled that terribly. Pushing back my chair, I follow her, rapping my knuckles against her door.

“Rowena? Can we talk, please?”

Silence. Then the door flies open, revealing a still seething, still scantily dressed Rowena. Her cheeks are flushed from the argument, tendrils of hair escaping her bun, and damn if she doesn’t look even more tempting all riled up. I want to run my thumbs along the arch of her collarbones and lower to?—

Focus, West. “I’m sorry, I didn’t wish to offend you. Believe me, I find you incredibly attractive. Sexy as hell, even. I just… I’m trying to maintain some self-control here.” I scratch an imaginary itch on my arm. “Things are already complicated enough between us without adding sex into the mix.”

She props a hand on her hip, glaring up at me. “Wow, a man exercising restraint around me, how flattering. Really living the dream over here.”

I wince. “That’s not what I meant. I’m just saying?—”

“No, you know what? It’s fine. I only want to sleep with a man whocan’tcontrol himself around me, anyway. One who wants to rip my clothes off, consequences be damned.” She gives a careless shrug. “You’re off the hook. Don’t worry, I won’t proposition you again.”

And with that, she slams the door in my face. I stand there blinking at the hardwood paneling, wondering how the hell I’m going to survive the next several months living with this maddening, intoxicating woman without losing my fucking mind.

26

ADRIAN

I’m hiding in my room on the bed, throwing a stress ball and catching it, feeling equally wise and stupid for having rejected her. The instinct to walk down the hall and do exactly what she asked—rip that damn slip off her golden skin and go feral on her—is so strong, I might have to lock myself in here. She accuses me of being too much in control, if only she knew my control is hanging by a thread so thin it could snap at any second. It nearly already fucking did over breakfast.

But it can’t snap. And that’s why, in the following days, I go back to avoiding Rowena as much as possible. I succeed in not seeing her at all until Wednesday morning when a text message lands on my screen.

---