Hitched (Hitched #1)(10)

He nods, continues to read, and when the server brings us fresh bread with garlic butter, I use the food as the distraction I need to survive such a long silence.

The bread is so good I nearly die of carb addiction right then and there. I eat three pieces before he finally puts the paperwork down and reaches for my hand, which—oh God—has a bit of butter on it.

He sees the butter and the utter horror in my eyes, and instead of just letting go so I can wipe my own hand, he…

Damn. That. Man.

He sticks my fingers in his mouth and sucks. Slowly. Deliciously. And I want to drag him back to the bathroom for round two because I can still feel the ache that having him inside me created, and the other kind of ache that having him pull out of me left.

But instead, I gently withdraw my hand, wipe it on a cloth napkin and glance at the pen. "It would be easier if we can just get the paperwork out of the way now. I'm happy to drop this off and file it all, no problem. I know you must be a very busy man."

He nods. "I am. So busy I've deprived myself of a lot of things to become who I am. And now I find that those things I thought were trivial, incidental, not relevant to the meaningful life I’m creating... some of them have turned out to be the most important. Love, family, connection. Bearing witness to another's journey and knowing she bears witness to mine... that we will grow and share the most precious of our moments on earth with each other. I thought I didn't need any of that to be happy."

He reaches for my hand again and strokes the inside of my wrist with his thumb, softly, gently. "I was wrong," he says, his eyes so deep I want to swim in them.

I don't know what to say because I'm not sure what he's trying to say. Or maybe I do know what he's trying to say, but I don't want to know. I want to stick to the plan. I like plans. They have gotten me through life well. I don't like this off-the-book nonsense.

He stacks the paperwork back into its neat pile, which I appreciate, and pushes it back to me, unsigned. Which I most definitely do not appreciate.

"Kacie, I don't know what it is about you, but I can't let you go. I want to know you better. I want you to know me better. Give me this summer. One summer to show you we're meant to be together. If at the end of the summer you don't want what we have, I'll sign your papers. But by the end of the summer, you won't want me to."





Chapter 6


Bathtub Memories


I freeze, stunned, unsure how to respond. Of course I can't stay married to him all summer long. That's absurd. Ridiculous. Totally outrageous.

"No! You have to sign these. We have to end this now. It's not right. We're not right. We don't belong together."

He smiles, and I melt a little, but I refuse to let him see that.

"We do. I think somewhere inside that pragmatic mind of yours, you know that. But it's okay; we have time for me to show you how right we are for each other, and how wrong you are to think otherwise."

I'm getting angry for real now. "You can't force me to date you." I stand, grabbing my paperwork. "I'll hire a lawyer and make this happen without your signature."

He nods and light from the candle on the table reflects in his eyes. "You could do that, at considerable expense, and without my signature, it would still take all summer to finalize. I promise you my way will be much less expensive and more pleasurable."

I grab my purse and give him a glare I hope sets him on fire. "This is over. We are over. I'm not interested in your outlandish proposal."

It feels good to stomp away from him in all my fire and brimstone anger. Until I get outside and realize I have no way home.

Sheepishly, I call Tate, who doesn't answer. I call Vi, and she answers on the first ring. "Kacie, what's up babe? Did you marry another total stranger today?"

"Hardy, har, har, bitch. No, I'm trying to annul the one I'm already married to, but he's not signing the f*cking paperwork. I just walked out on our non-date discussion, and I was hoping you could pick me up?" I give her the address.

"Sure, I just finished up with a client. Let me change into normal people clothes, and I'll be right over."

Her normal people clothes include spiked nails with silver tips over ruby red polish. A red fedora and black leather pants with red high heels and a corset with red and black roses. We don't share the same idea of “normal,” but I still love her, and right now, I love her a ton. I hug her after sliding into the passenger side of the car.

"Haven't you learned to always drive to a date in your own car?" she asks as she pulls out.

"It was tricky." I explain what happened.

"That doesn't sound tricky, that sounds hot. Why are you ditching this guy for a night at home with just your brother and best friend for company?"

"Shut up. You would not find this hot if it was happening to you. This alpha male 'I'm taking charge of this relationship, and I know what's best' bullshit. I'm not a cave woman to be knocked on her head and dragged back into the cave for a good f*ck." But even as I say the words, warmth fills me at the thought of him pulling me into a cave—not by the hair, mind you, but, I don't know, with some ferocity—and f*cking me hard by the light of a fire with the cold night air cooling our skin.

"Earth to Kacie, we're home." She stops the car, and I realize I probably missed something she said in my sex-hazed daydreaming.