Page 18 of His Weekend Wife

“Thank you.” She practically tore the lace from his finger and quickly deposited them back in the purse. “Better to be prepared than not.”

“Were you planning on spending the night?” His laughing eyes drilled into her, seeping honey straight into her bloodstream.

“No, of course not.” Latching the purse closed, she stood, trying not to think too hard on the fact that he’d held her panties in his hand and the pair she had on were turning damp. She knew without a doubt that he worked fast in turning her inside out, but she wasn’t the type to move much faster than a turtle when it came to sex. The very reason why they waited until after marriage before they made love the first time. She’d wanted special, and that was exactly what he’d given her. And probably why she hadn’t gotten anywhere near allowing another man to touch her intimately. Once a woman knew a distinctive emotion, that certain feeling that spun magic from roots to toes, how was it possible to imagine it happening a second time.

Once they were both standing, she scanned the floor, looking for a tampon that had somehow mysteriously disappeared.

“I think something rolled under the couch. I’ll grab it for you.” He was already turning and heading to the L-shaped couch.

“No. I mean—it’s nothing, really.” Panties were one thing. Tampons were another. Did the temperature rise?

Of course, he didn’t pay her any attention. He bent to his knees, swept his hand under the edge of the sofa and retrieved the item that she could have easily forgotten, and didn’t need now, but was forever branded in her brain. He stood and held out the slender package for her. Swallowing, she grabbed it, shoving it into her purse.

“Now, can I take it?” he asked.

“Huh?” What did he want to take?

“The purse?” His eyes twinkled.

She hurried and handed it over.

He smiled and placed the bag on the polished table that held a vase of pretty fresh flowers. Irises. Her favorite.

While he had his back turned, she took the opportunity to skim her gaze down his broad shoulders that stretched the shirt to the black slacks that were tailored to fit him nicely.

He turned and she bee-lined her gaze back to a safer place—the area between his brows. Five years ago, he would have greeted her with a heart-melting kiss and she would have been a happy wife, ready to succumb to her husband fully in bed. He could always lead her body down a path of ecstasy, and she’d surrendered completely like each time was the first. Yet, the only connection they’d had together wasn’t just that of the flesh. His intelligence intrigued her, challenged her. His authoritative confidence captivated her. All his deep thoughts, compassion, and drive ignited a passion inside of her. Once when she’d joined him in helping at a charity auction for orphaned children, she’d fallen more in love with him watching him fully engaged with the kids.

With all his confidence, he also had a vulnerability. He’d lost his mom at a young age, and he’d craved his father’s attention, but never got it.

She and Declan understood each other and the pain of a broken family.

He’d always tugged at her endearing side, even now she felt the strings being pulled.

Oh why had she ever decided to do this? To save my sister, that’s why. Her heart pounded her ribs and made her wonder for the millionth time how could she ever pull this off? How could she ask him for money? She’d never cared that he was rich, had never asked him for anything, and for the first time, she’d ask for a large sum of money. And she couldn’t tell him why. He’d never help her if he knew why she needed it.

“Have a seat. Would you care for a drink?”

“Water is fine. Thank you.” She rounded the couch and sat, sitting on the edge of the cushion.

He brought her a glass of water and he took a seat across from her, watching her as if he was unwrapping her layer by layer. She sipped the cool water, taking a moment to calm her nerves.

“Did you bring the divorce papers?” he asked.

For a long moment, she held her breath. Why did she feel a cramp clench her belly? “Is that why you think I’m here?”

“Isn’t it the most obvious reason?” The area between his brows scrunched.

“I guess it would be.” Although they had been apart for a long time, and she believed their separation was for the best, in all truth she’d never forgotten him—never gotten over losing him. Meeting him had been a fairytale come true—silly now. Fairytales were for little girls who still had hopes and dreams, not for grown women who knew there was no Prince Charming or knights in shining armor. She and Declan existed in two different worlds. He was a sophisticated businessman who many women, married or not, wanted to become the next Mrs. Declan Knight. Did they have any clue that spot was already occupied by a woman who wore a stained uniform to work and her favorite meal was grilled cheese. She couldn’t say that she still owned the spot as his wife. Being Declan’s wife meant more than a piece of paper stating they were married.

“If not for a divorce, I’m stumped.”

Dragging her mind back on track, she tugged a tendril of hair behind her ear and focused on why she’d come. “I have a favor to ask.” Acid washed through her throat.

“A favor?” He chuckled. “Really?”

She tried not to cringe and sink deep into the cushion. She hated being here and asking for anything. “Yes.” She clutched her hands together so tightly that her knuckles popped.

Seconds ticked by until he finally interrupted the deathly silence. “You left me, haven’t said a word, haven’t called in these years, and now you need something?” Anger pebbled his sharp tone.

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