Page 42 of Claiming Genevieve

My throat tightens. It’s almost as if he’s forgotten that this isn’t real, that we’re playing at a marriage that is already planned to end in divorce. But I nod, not trusting myself to speak, because he looks genuinely happy.

I bunch the heavy, feathery skirt of my wedding dress around my feet as he closes the door. A moment later, he’s in the driver’s side, revving the engine as he puts the car into gear and pulls away from the venue.

I swallow hard as he pulls out onto the road, his hand leaving the gearshift to touch my leg. I can’t feel his touch through the layers of feathers, and Rowan glances over at me, smirking.

“This dress looks bonnie on you,taibhseach. But I like it better when you’re wearing something that lets me touch you.”

My throat feels too tight to speak, still. I reach up instead, brushing my fingers against the back of his hand, and I feel him tense. As if my touch has the same effect on him. As if just my fingers brushing over the back of his hand sends desire raging through him like a wildfire.

He pulls into the parking garage of his building, killing the engine and coming around to help me out of the car. My heart is beating rabbit-fast against my ribs as we make our way to the elevator, and I draw in a slow breath as we step inside and Rowan taps his keycard against the reader.

“We’ll move your things over in the next couple of days,” Rowan says, as the elevator heads up. “I can have some guys handle it. No need for you to worry. You need to rest as much as you can,” he adds, glancing at me. “Focus on that, and rehab for your ankle. There’s nothing else you need to concern yourself with.”

I manage a small smile. “Thank you,” I say softly, as the elevator door chimes and opens, leading out to the entrance of Rowan’s penthouse. There’s the usual security outside, but they barely glance at me as Rowan leads me to the front door and unlocks it.

We step inside, and I’m reminded of how much more I like this space than when I lived with Chris.I could get used to living here,I think, and before I can banish the dangerous thought away, Rowan scoops me up into his arms bridal-style, my feathered skirt spilling over his arms in a cascade of fabric as he lifts me.

“Holy hell,” he laughs, bringing me in against his chest. “How bloody much can feathers weigh? You weren’t like this the last time I lifted you, lass.”

“Say that again, and I’ll make you put me down,” I threaten. “Are you actually asking me if I gained weight on ourwedding night?”

“Not at all,taibhseach,” he assures me. “I’m only commenting on the dress, that’s all. Which I’m eager to get off of you,” he adds, and the heat in his voice is unmistakable.

My stomach swoops. I swallow hard, pressing my lips together as he carries me up the stairs, all the way up to his bedroom. I’ve never seen it before—I’ve only ever been on the first floor of the penthouse. Apprehension sweeps through me, and I glance up at him.

“Isn’t there a guest room?”

Rowan narrows his eyes. “No, lass. But aside from that, even with our agreement in mind, I want my wife to sleep in my bed with me.”

My wife.My stomach tightens at the possessiveness of the phrase, the way he says it, as if to remind me that for a little while at least, Iamhis. He sets me down gently on the edge of the bed, stepping back, and I can see the heat in his eyes as his gaze sweeps over me.

“I’ve wanted this for a long time, Genevieve,” he murmurs, and the way he says my name sends shivers over my skin, my heartbeat picking up to an even faster pace as Rowan shrugs off his suit jacket.

“Wait!” I blurt out, and Rowan pauses, confusion flitting over his face.

“What is it, lass?” he asks, and I draw in a breath, meeting his eyes.

“We’re not…” I let out the breath slowly, my fingers digging into the edge of the bed. “I’m not going to have sex with you tonight.”

15

ROWAN

For a moment, I think maybe I’ve heard her wrong. I frown, my jacket held in one hand as I look at my gorgeous bride, apprehension written all over her beautiful face.

“Say that again, lass?” I murmur finally. “I could have sworn you just told me that you weren’t going to go to bed with me on our wedding night.”

Genevieve bites her lip. “Well, according to you, I have no choicebutto ‘go to bed’ with you, if I want to sleep in a bed. But to be perfectly clear, we aren’t going to have sex tonight.”

Well, there’s no chance I misunderstood her now.

My cock, already half-hard from the moment I picked her up downstairs—hell, it’s been half-hard since the moment she walked through those church doors, if I’m being honest—throbs in protest. I’ve been fantasizing about this night since I asked her to marry me…been fantasizing about fucking her since well before that, and I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around the idea that I’m going to pass another cold night without exactly that.

“It’s our wedding night, lass,” I say slowly, doing my level best to not sound patronizing. “The marriage has to be consummated.”

Genevieve looks at me narrowly. “And if it’s not? How are they going to know, exactly? It’s not as if you can hang bloody sheets up to proclaim you’ve fucked me,” she says caustically. “I’m not a virgin, in case you hadn’t realized.”

I let out a sharp breath. She’s right, and I tighten my jaw, doing my best not to snap back at her. Fighting with my new bride won’t get me into bed with her.

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