Page 56 of Icing the Enemy

He plates our food, and it’s an egg scramble full of veggies and cheese with a side of bacon and pineapple on the side. When we sit down at the table across from each other, he adds, “I am too.”

I pick up a piece of bacon, and it has a sweet maple flavor followed by a smoky aftertaste, and I moan in appreciation. “Did it come like this, or is this a secret recipe?”

“I just cook it until it’s almost done, then glaze it with maple syrup and finish it off in the oven.”

“Who taught you?”

He picks the pineapple up with his fingers, chewing. “My Mamaw.”

Corbin seems different this morning. I didn't realize how sad that would make me. Part of me wanted him to profess his love, or at least “like me” after a night like we had together. We eat in relative silence. It’s awkward and the occasional words of appreciation like yum or delicious crawl out of mymouth. Neither of us knows how to address our wedding and subsequent consummation of our marriage.

Having sex wasn’t in the contract, but I wouldn’t change anything about last night. I have a feeling Corbin is regretting it.

When he’s finished eating, he sits back in his seat, sighs, and says, “My sister is on her way over.”

I can feel a knot forming in my stomach. We both know what happened between us last night, and the thought of facing his sister’s wrath makes me feel nauseous.

“And we shouldn’t have…”

The words I've been dreading cause my lip to quiver and my eyes fill with tears. No one wants to be fucked into tomorrow, then when tomorrow comes, be told they regret it all.

Having spent years building up my walls to protect myself from the hurt and pain of being left alone, I refuse to let him see me cry. “I have a hair appointment.” I scoot my chair back, and it scrapes across the floor, echoing as I hurry out before I completely fall apart and not in the way I did last night.

“Oakley. Oakley,” he shouts a little louder the second time.

In the guest room, I quickly gather my things, my hands shaking with anger and hurt. How could he do this to me? He wanted every single moment we had together last night.

I'm already dressed when Corbin appears in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame. "Move, I need to leave," I demand, not even trying to hide the fury in my voice.

“No.” He shakes his head.

“We’re married, but you aren’t telling me what I can and can’t do,” I huff with every bit of snake venom left inside me.

“Please don’t go out without putting on some makeup.” His response catches me by surprise.Not, stay and let’s talk it out. Or you misunderstood.

I stare at him, attempting to laser a hole through his forehead using my superman powers. “Are you kidding me? Now I’m not good enough for Corbin Shearer, Nashville Notes’ golden boy?”

When I attempt to blow past him, he moves into the center of the doorway. His impressive stature takes up the entire entrance. But I won’t be intimidated.

"I just don't want anyone to get the wrong idea when they see the marks I left on you." The concern blanketing his voice pisses me off. Does he care that he will look bad? Or that he kissed and sucked me so hard, it bruised my skin?

"Maybe you shouldn't have left them in the first place. Mr. I have no self-control," I retort, my hands on my hips in a defensive posture.

Corbin reaches for my hand, but I step back. He takes on a softer, feathery tone, when he claims, "I care about how you're seen, Oakley. I don't want you to be judged because of my actions."

He cares about how he looks, not me, and the damage has been done. I shoot back. "Well, maybe you should have thought about that before you marked me,” I say unconcerned about the harshness in my words. I try to push past him, but he holds his ground, and I can't move him.

"And I don't give a rat's ass whether Becca is coming over. Dixie and I are leaving," I declare, determined to get out of here and away from him as quickly as possible, knocking his shoulder out of the way.

I hear him grunt in pain, and I feel his hard gaze on my back. But I don't care. I just need to escape this moment and figure out how to protect my heart from the man who clearly has no intention of protecting it himself. This is my fault. I got myself into this mess, and the marriage only needs to last ninety days. I’ve been through worse. I can do this.

Dixie follows me outside, and I come to the realization that I don’t have a car. Corbin follows me. “Take the truck,” he says, tossing me the keys. “Leave Dixie. Go to your apartment and pick up whatever you need. It’s day one of the agreement.”

He whistles, and Dixie runs to his side.

Traitor.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

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