Page 21 of Dearly Betrayed

“If you want to do something stupid, such as try to kiss me, you will ask first. And if I say no, which I promise you I will, you will not force me. Understand?”

“I’m a consent kind of guy. I’m progressive like that.”

“Great, wonderful, we’re understood then.”

“Do I get to make rules?”

“No, but thank you for asking, well done.”

He chuckles, low and throaty. I shiver at the raw sexual energy radiating from him as he puts down the glass and shrugs out of his jacket. He rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt, and I stare at his muscular forearms like a horny teenage girl. What is the matter with me? I’m losing my mind for this monster.

“Here’s my rule. You share my bedroom.”

“Absolutely not.” I blink a few times, coming to my senses. “Why in God’s name would we do that?”

“You’re my wife. I want you to act like it.”

I laugh because I genuinely can’t believe this guy is serious. “You’ve lost your mind.”

“I’m serious.”

“You hate me. You made that clear. Why do you think I’m stupid enough to want to sleep in the same bed as you?”

He comes toward me. I back off, heart racing straight through my spine, very much aware of how alone we are.

Alone with the big, muscular, attractive gangster.

He’s oozing sexuality and I very much despise him for that.

“We’re stuck together, lovely fox, and we might as well try to get used to each other. I think one way to do that is to share a bed.”

“How about we do couples counseling instead? You Americans like therapy, don’t you?”

“That’s not my style.” He stops about six inches away from me. Hulking and terrifying. He’s a pressure in my core. A heat between my legs.Get it together, Fallon!“I think we can get to know each other just as easily while mostly undressed.”

“You’d like that, I bet. But remember, we’re not consummating.”

“Hm,” he says, licking his lips, and now he’s very much thinking about consummating, and not trying to hide it. “We don’t have to fuck if you’re afraid of that. I know plenty of ways to make you feel good, my fox.”

I let out a whimper, an actual whimper, which is a noise I’ve never made in my entire life before, yet this man manages to cause me some serious distress thinking about thesewayshe speaks of.

“No, absolutely not,” I say but my voice is much too high. When did I start talking like I’m filled with helium?

He chuckles and his thumb touches me. Fuck, he touches me. I should swat him away, knee him in the crotch—that’s the foreplay he deserves—and run like hell.

I don’t do any of that. His touch lingers on my cheek, and my nipples feel like they might explode. I want his mouth on them, sucking as he finger-fucks me—oh, shit, I’m a horny mess, and this man’s worming his way into my skull.

“Alright, my pet fox. How about this. I’m going to take you into my room. I’m going to undress you. I will not kiss your lips, but I will kiss you everywhere else. I won’t fuck you, but I will make you come, and if I can’t make it happen, you can sleep in the guest room all you like.”

I groan. Fuck. I want this. Ireallywant it, but I think of my family back home, my dead father, my dead cousins and friends, and this man’s the reason for all that. It doesn’t matter that his lips are delicious and his words are rewiring all the connections in my brain, turning me into some drooling, sex-addled addict, it doesn’t matter that he looks like a model and smells like a pine forest. I should be stabbing right now. Not thinking about his tongue licking me in a spot I’ve never been licked before.

“This is a very bad deal for me,” I say, closing my eyes. “You get what you want either way.”

“You think I want this?”

“You want me. You’ve made that clear. And I’ve tried to make it clear that I want you to fuck off.”

“You want me between your legs, pet fox. You want me licking, sucking, and fucking your lovely pink pussy.”

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