Page 99 of The Proposal Pact
“Wh-where are you going? Looking like that,” I stutter, unable to form normal words as I haphazardly point in her general direction before my hands ball at my sides. My jaw clenching so hard, I hear yet another tooth crack. But the biggest problem right now is my cock. My hard as fuck cock and the thundering heart in my chest.
Forget a simmering sizzle…I’ve got an untamable fire raging inside me.
“To the bar with friends, where else?” The vixen shrugs.
She. Fucking. Shrugs.
“Don’t worry, I got the ring on.” She smiles sweetly yet again, wiggling her fingers at me as she completely ignores my twitching eye.
A ring. She’s got the ring on! I’m not sure words “I’m married” tattooed on her forehead would keep the motherfuckers away when she’s looking like that.
“You’re not wearing that,” I deadpan. Uncompromisingly.
“Why? Do I look bad?” She looks down at herself as if she doesn’t already know that she dressed to kill.
Me.
She dressed to fucking kill me.
“No,” I grit out. “You look too good to be true.”
“Ah, it’s perfect then.” She looks up, those chocolate eyes full of mischief.
“No, it is not! Who is it perfect for, hmm?” I’m aware that I’m losing any semblance of chill, but ask me if I give a shit right-about-fucking-now.
“Me, of course. Who else?” She proceeds to take one of her knit cardigans, putting it on as if she can’t see me fuming over here.
“Sophie!”
“Clover!” she mimics me.
“Jesus…” I mutter under my breath, silently praying. “You’re not going to the bar alone like that.”
“Well,I amgoing.” The little menace points at her chest, drawing my eyes to her perfect tits. “Now,youhave two options.”
29
Sophie
“It’s amazing the clarity that comes with psychotic jealousy.” – My Best Friend’s Wedding
“You know you can just walk beside me.”
“Sophie, just…not a word.” I can practically hear that strong jaw of his, peppered with blond stubble, ticking again as he trails behind me ever since I walked out of the apartment.
What can I say, I live to piss off my fake husband. Quietly, I snicker to myself.
What? I did give him two options, it’s not my fault he chose to come to the bar with me.
I know, I know what you’re going to say, that I purposely dressed up like this to get areaction out of him.
Nope, I did it for me, like I’ve told that grumpy husband of mine. I like to look good. I haven’t done it for a long time, so now I’m making up for lost time. Getting that reaction out of him was simply a bonus I enjoyed very much.
Honestly, though, I’m not sure why he reacted like a possessive caveman tonight, and earlier today at the diner. It’s not like he likes me or thinks of me as his wife. Maybe it’s that male ego thing? Technically, the world thinks I’m his, so he needs to act the part.
I look down at my finger where the most beautiful ring now sits. If it was the whole ego thing, why not get me a simple band that brands me or one of those princess-cut type rings that girls usually like. Why get something so…me.
It doesn’t have any fancy stones on it, and to anyone else it might look silly, but I nearly cried when I saw him slip this white gold band that has a colorful strip of mood-changing stones run through the middle on my finger.
