Suddenly, Nate pulls his shirt over his head and flings it across the room. I should keep my head on the pillow with my eyes shut, but I can’t. I lift my head just a little… Just enough to check him out.
Oh yes. Those muscles. The beautiful, lean, hard lines. The flexing of his abs. The powerful shoulders.
He starts to turn toward me.
Shit. I plop back down and shut my eyes. Then, with some effort, I inhale and exhale slow and deep.
Fake date. Fake marriage. Fake sleep.
God. My life is more fake than Georgette’s breasts.
* * *
Nate
It takes all my willpower not to cross the Great Wall and invade her like Court suggested. Actually invade her like the Huns and plunder that gorgeous body hidden underneath the prim shirt and shorts.
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I only put on the shirt because of what Yuna said. I thought maybe my being topless was making her feel awkward or threatened. Well, technically Yuna said it was my money, position and relatives and family that make it threatening for Evie, but I can’t do anything about that. But this…
I always thought Evie never noticed or cared what I wore or didn’t wear. But no. There was definitely a hint of disappointment in her eyes before she stoically controlled her expression and walked to her side of the bed. It was all I could do not to start jumping up and down on the bed, arms in an overhead victory pose and screaming, “Yes! Yes!”
Instead, I waited for her to say something. Anything. Hell, all she had to do was smile or crook a finger, and I’d take off my shirt and more. Then eat her out until she rips the bedsheets, my name—my first name—on her beautiful lips as she comes again and again and again.
I bet she’s tasty. Hotter than lava. And when I drive into her sexy little body…
But she just slid under the covers. Then inhaled deeply and let out some small sighs.
Oh well, then. I can be generous. I’m an accommodating guy.
The expression on her face when I stripped off the shirt… Ah yes. Priceless. Her eyes flared, interest sparking. I don’t know if she realized it, but her little pink tongue swept across the seam of her mouth like she was hungry.
She said no entry. But all I need is a yes from her lips to change that. And now that I know she’s definitely interested in me—or at least in my body—I plan to launch a full assault on the Great Fucking Wall.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Evie
Nate is acting strangely. Although Miguel’s supposed to be back, Nate gives him even more time off, saying he deserves it. He insists on driving me to and from work. He also insists on having fresh flowers delivered to my desk every morning.
Except the flowers don’t die immediately, so I have more flowers than a funeral home, and twelve oversized vases. I tell him, but he just says, “If I can’t buy my wife flowers, who can I buy them for? Rosie?”
I grind my teeth at the continual personification of his palm, but say nothing. My coworkers also say nothing, not even super-chatty Melissa, who occupies a cubicle a few feet away. They don’t seem to know what to make of my new position as Nate’s wife. I don’t say anything either, since I also have no idea what to make of my new position.
Mornings are the worst. He’s topless, as usual, but his towel is now perched so low, the fold so loose, that I swear it’s going to slip right off his hips any second. Sometimes I can see one hipbone, and more and more of the goodie trail is getting revealed. But somehow the towel manages to stay.
I can’t decide if I’m happy or sad about that. And every night I fantasize about him losing his towel and me unceremoniously replacing Rosie. Taking his cock in my hand. Then in my mouth. Then in—
I need some serious therapy.
Much to my guilt and horror, Blanche has started to make breakfast and dinner. She insists, saying she’s entitled to cook for her son and new daughter-in-law. I’m going to go to hell for sure. And then there’s the matter of the morning shakes. Nate eats the bacon and eggs his mom makes with an outward gusto, but I can tell he’s hurting for his blended kale and antioxidants.
The day before the welcome party, I work like a demon to clear everything off my to-do list. I’m certain I won’t be allowed to do any work. Not with Barron around. I take a quick look at the stack of papers on my desk. Must plow through them before Nate’s done reviewing the reports on his desk. The floor’s already empty except for us because everyone else left already. They took advantage of the generous policy of letting workers off at three on Fridays, except when we’re on a deadline.
My cell phone rings, and I answer it automatically. “Hello?”
“Evie, babe!”