The Reluctant Bride (Arranged Marriage #1)(44)

I want to continue kissing him.

In private.

Without an audience.

I’m not his type though. And I saw his type at the engagement party thanks to Lindy. He likes them dark haired and voluptuous. Women who dress sexily and are confident in their every move.

Meaning the complete opposite of me.

“I’m curious,” he finally says.

“About what?”

“You.”

We’re both quiet again, my mind going nonstop.

He’s probably just playing me.

“There’s nothing to be curious about.” I lift my chin, hoping I look stronger than I feel. “According to you, I’m a scared little virgin.”

“Yet according to you, you’re an experienced woman who doesn’t need—or want it to be—gentle,” he throws back at me.

My entire body prickles with awareness at his words. The way he said I don’t need it gentle.

Is he referring to what I think he is?

“Are you talking about…”

“Sex?” He walks further into my bedroom, drawing closer to me. Close enough that I can smell him, his cologne lingering in the air, along with his own unique scent. I subtly breathe him in, my head starting to spin.

He smells really good.

Too good.

I glance down at his hands, noticing the rings. He only has a couple on one hand, and I’m curious.

How many rings does he own? And how does he decide which ones to wear?

“Yeah.” I swallow hard. “That.”

“Can’t say the word?” He’s even closer now. To the point that he’s standing directly in front of me and Doja is rubbing around his legs. Again, the shitty little traitor. “Are you one of those who can only spell it out instead of say it? S-E-X?”

“Of course not.”

He smiles, his expression sly. “I bet you only ever do it in the dark.”

I almost say I don’t ever really do it at all, but I keep my mouth shut.

I think of Seamus. The only time I’ve been with a man romantically, and I can’t lie—it had been magical. He was so tender and sweet. So incredibly careful. He knew I was cautious, unsure and he didn’t push. He made sure I was satisfied, always asking me if I liked it, where did I want him to touch me. He was considerate in bed. An unselfish lover.

It hurt, his betrayal. It meant everything he did and said was meaningless.

I was meaningless to him.

I wonder what Perry is like in bed. Maybe he’s a quick lay. Wham, bam, thank you, ma’am or whatever that old saying is. Two-pump chump?

There are so many ways to describe it. I bet that’s Perry. All the women he’s been with are probably just thrilled with the fact that they’re with him. Too dazzled by his good looks and his easygoing charm to worry too much about their own needs.

Pleasing him is enough to them.

“You don’t know me,” I say, hating how shaky my voice is. “Or what I like.”

“I’m supposed to find out though, right?” He takes a couple of steps forward, reaching for me, his fingers settling for the briefest moment on my cheek before his hand falls away. My face tingles where he touched me, causing a ripple effect throughout my entire body and settling right between my legs. “After all, in a few weeks, I’ll be your husband.”

I stare up at him, a familiar scent hitting my nose. “You’ve been drinking.”

His smile is far too big. “So smart, wife.”

Irritated, I push at his chest, but he doesn’t stumble or even take a step backward. He’s firmly in place, which makes me wonder if this is some sort of metaphor for my future.

As in, this man isn’t going anywhere.

And I’m going to have to learn how to make the best of it.





Chapter Fifteen




Perry


I’m in a mood.

Arguing with Charlotte feels like foreplay. Or maybe I’m just horny. Doesn’t help that I’m drunk. I stayed after hours with Winston, and we shared a few glasses of whiskey before I came home.

I might’ve guzzled down two or three.

Three. Though that last one was more like half a glass. Winston took it away from me about twenty minutes before I left, telling me I needed to sober up. I was too far gone for that, and he knew it, so he walked me down to his own personal car and told the driver to take me straight to purgatory, AKA my new home with ol’ wifey-to-be here.

The beautiful woman who is currently glaring holes into my head.

She’s so damn confusing. Sending mixed messages all the time. One minute she hates me, the next she’s thanking me for saving her. I know she’s unhappy. I know her father treats her like garbage, and for some reason, knowing all of that makes me feel protective towards her.

I shouldn’t give a shit. She’s nothing to me. Just a fake future wife. But the way she’s staring at me right now, her expression all wide-eyed vulnerability, it does something to me.

Twists up my insides.

Makes my heart beat harder.

Makes my dick hard too.

“Are you drunk?”

I wince, scratching the side of my head. Damn her voice is loud.

She’s cute though, clad in the plain black T-shirt and high-waisted jeans, a simple yet stylish outfit. Mom jeans is what Tins calls them. Charlotte’s blonde hair is in a high ponytail and I’m half tempted to give it a solid yank, wrap those silky strands around my fist.