Page 48 of Covenant

His fingers move deftly and a moment later, my shirt is open and he’s redoing the buttons, putting me back together again. I look away, refusing to give him any attention. He can do what he wants, but I won’t enjoy it. When he’s done up the last button, he begins to redo my tie, his fingertips brushing against the skin of my neck. I reluctantly pull air into my lungs, not wanting to breathe. I don’t want to smell him, that expensive cologne, the mint on his breath.

Thankfully he’s fast, having done this a thousand times before, and I’m able to step back and exhale.

“Better?” I ask, that word cold and cutting.

“You were perfect before, but now…” He wets his lips and then turns around. “Let’s go. We don’t want to be late.”

I trudge along after him, making sure to shuffle my feet. I want him to hear my stubbornness. And he may, but I’d never know it. He ignores me until we’re in the back of the limo, the door shut, the driver taking us to our destination.

“Sit near me.” He pats the leather beside him when I take the seat farthest away from him. I grind my teeth, realizing that this is part of our contract and I need to do this. But fuck, that seat is so damn small. Our legs will be touching, our arms plastered together.

“Wyatt,” he drawls, raising a brow. I huff like a teenager and scoot next to him, letting him place a hand on my thigh.

My muscles tense under his touch and I feel something sliver up my leg and right into my chest. My heart thunders, my cheeks growing red.

From anger. That’s it. I’m pissed.

“Perhaps we should practice,” Matthias says softly.

“Practice what?” I ask, hating that my words come out in a rasp.

From frustration, nothing more.

“Acting like we’re in love.”

I peer over at him and purse my lips. “And how do you think we should do that?”

“You should touch me. Get used to it. Pretend, Wy. Pretend you love me.” His throat bobs. “You used to once.”

That cuts me and I glance away, not letting those feelings penetrate my chest of stone. It doesn’t matter how I once felt. What matters is how I feel now. The hatred I have for Matthias is more than I’ve felt in almost a year. I’m not sure I can even pretend to let go of it. “I’ll have a hard time doing that.”

Matthias’s grip tightens on my thigh. “I know, but you have to try.”

I turn my gaze forward and let out a long, low breath. “Fine.”

My hand slaps down on his leg and I leave it there, feeling his muscles bunch under my touch. I hear the sound of the tires moving over the highway and I try and focus on that. Anything other than the feel of Matthias’s thigh under my palm.

I fail almost immediately. He’s strong. I can feel it in the tense muscles just beneath those slacks.He must work out daily, I think as my hand slides to his knee, causing Matthias to stiffen.

This is unnecessary. When we’re at the gala I won’t be touching his knee. Unless we’re sitting down and someone happens to look. I shift slightly and our legs knock. My hand drifts up his thigh and his breath hitches.

That sound…

Something akin to power moves through me and my gaze becomes laser-focused. He’s reacting to me. He likes this. He wants it.

Good. I want him to be weak. I want him to feel helpless like I do when he realizes he can’t have anything more. I turn my face toward his, closing the distance. I’m so close to his throat that I can see his pulse jumping. My fingers curl and I drag them up to his hip. His breathing accelerates, little puffs against my cheek as I press my nose against his neck. I hate it, but I’m only doing this out of anger, to prove a point.

That’s the only reason.

“Is this good enough?” I’m shocked at how deep my voice is. “Am I being the husband you want?”

My hand drifts across his pounding heart and then right up to his neck. I feel his Adam’s apple bob beneath my palm. “Is this what you want from me?”

He inhales deeply and then his hand grips my wrist, pulling me away from him.

“If you can behave like this, I think we’ll be just fine.” He brings my palm up to his lips and he presses a soft kiss there, making something depraved slither through me. I wrench my hand away, rubbing it on my slacks, and turn my gaze away. I don’t want to fucking look at him, but his words have my attention snapping back to him.

“What about a kiss?”

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