Page 22 of Rim Job

I can do this. Hell, I've already done it.

He is my husband, after all. If I should have a meaningless fling with anyone, it's this guy.

I snag the glass from his hand and swallow it down. The burn that follows is a welcome friend, and I clear my throat.

“Rimmington Banks, I want you to have sex with me. Here. Right now. Get your dick out before I change my mind.”

He looks at me intensely a moment, a crease forming between his dark, inky brows, then he throws his head back and laughs.

The fuck?

He shakes his head as if clearing his thoughts then takes a long pull from his glass. Mischief twinkles in his eyes when they land on me.

“You want to be fucked, my lady? I can gladly help you with that, but first, we need to talk.”

“Talk?”

I should be thankful a man I just threw myself at wants to talk, right? I shouldn't be pissed that he didn't sling that glass against the wall, take me into those strong, muscled arms and rip my clothes off, right? Right?

Yeah, not so much.

I can't help the slight disappointment that settles into my bones.

“Yes, talk. I hate to even ask you, but our unique situation has opened a door for me to a freedom of sorts.”

It's my turn to get that crease between my brows.

“Explain, Rim, please.”

He tugs on his pants at the knee, an action, apparently, I now find sexy, and settles into the chair across from me.

“You see, wife,” he smiles, knowing he’ll raise my hackles by calling me that, “I have a bit of a situation, and our marriage presents me the opportunity for a way out.”

He leans forward, those ocean-colored eyes mapping my face, searching for my reaction to what he's about to say.

“That ring on your finger was intended to be placed on another’s hand.”

What?

I jump to my feet, my eyes going to the ring. Until now, I'd totally forgotten it was even there. It sparkles and shines in the dim light, a reminder of all that's wrong with this situation. I've stolen another woman's marriage. Stolen her joy.

God, I'm a piece of shit.

I reach down to pull the ring off, but Rim stands and places his hand over mine.

“Not so fast, Hell Cat. Hear me out?”

I look at him. Ireallylook at him. Faint creases surround his tired eyes. In those eyes, I see the responsibility of an empire crushing down on him. I can't even begin to imagine the weight of the load he bears.

I give a gentle nod and sit back down. My fingers trace the phantom marks where his warm skin just touched mine.

Rim clears his throat and settles back into his seat. He's nervous. That causes an unsettling churn in my stomach. He's never been anything but calm, confident, and collected in what little time we've spent together. Now, I'm nervous.

God, I bet he thinks I want alimony or something ridiculous.

“Rim, I don't want your money. I don't want or need anything from you. So, if that's what has you so nervous, rest assured...”

“Christina, I don't want an annulment.”

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