“You can’t expect me to eat after that declaration of war.”
He tilted his head. His gorgeous dark eyes cut into her like a scalpel. “You’re the only woman I know who could equate an attempt at reconciliation with a declaration of war. It’s love, not war.”
Her heart froze for a moment at the mention of “love”…except he didn’t really mean it the way she did. “Does your attempt really have anything to do with love?”
He took his time, crossing his legs and smoothing out the crease in his trousers. “Well it certainly isn’t war. I’ve never offered reconciliation to my enemies.”
“Stop evading my question.” She crossed her arms. “Convince me.”
He quirked an eyebrow.
Her mouth dried. This was important. It might be the only way to salvage their relationship, even compel Gavin to realize he loved her. “Convince me our marriage’s going to work. I’m not going to stay just for the baby because I’m certain it’ll give you an even bigger claim on the child in case things don’t work out.”
“Fine.”
“And I want all the rules written out.”
“That’s unusual.” His mouth crooked into a semi-cynical smile. “Want a lawyer to go over them?”
“Why not? I want them to be fair. I don’t want you hanging around, taking forever to convince me.” It’d
hurt too much to have him close, all the while knowing that he didn’t love her, but simply wanted to play at being married for the sake of their child. She wished she had the confidence to demand more from him, somehow just…commandeer the love she deserved, but every time she started to open her mouth, she froze. Just thinking about what he might say if she asked him point-blank made her break out in a cold sweat.
The cultured voice of Aunt Olivia—Catherine’s mother—came to Amandine all of a sudden, each word spoken with a perfect moneyed diction she could never achieve: “What a shamelessly poor-mannered child she is. Never grateful for what she’s been given, but always demanding more.”
“Don’t be too harsh, dear. She’s still a Fairchild,” her uncle had said.
“Please, Sebastian. She’s a Monroe like her father. I don’t know what Chantelle was thinking, marrying so far beneath her. But this is what she got for it. A greedy, ill-bred girl. At least her brother isn’t as bad.”
The memory of the private conversation she’d overheard still had the power to make her gut clench with shame. Amandine never wanted anybody to see her the way Aunt Olivia had.
Amandine signaled the waiter and asked him to box everything. “Don’t worry,” she said, before Gavin could object. “I’ll have it later.”
He dropped a few crisp bills for their dinner, then took her to the waiting car. Thomas always seemed to have some special sense when it came to Gavin’s schedule. He knew exactly when to bring the car out. It was overkill for such a short walk, but she didn’t want to make a scene in front of the chauffeur, so she let him drive them to Brooke’s apartment complex. Gavin would find out where she was staying soon enough anyway.
Instead of dropping her off at the gate, Gavin escorted her all the way up to Brooke’s unit, while carrying the bag of Chinese food. “I don’t care for the security here,” he remarked. He probably wouldn’t approve of anything less than a platoon of Marines with machine guns and bazookas.
“I’ve never been mugged.”
“You’ve never been mugged yet. And the place is a dump.”
She gave up. Why was she bothering? Once he realized how much time it’d take to convince her that their marriage could work, he’d sign the divorce papers. It sucked, but that was the most likely outcome.
Before she could open the door to the apartment, he gave her the bag of leftovers. As she reached out to take it, he dipped his head, and hers tilted until their breaths mingled. His free hand glided down from her shoulder, then brushed her breast gently with just the three fingertips, then caressed her belly with the back of the same fingers and rested them at the small of her back. She gasped as her nipples tingled, and her inner thighs clenched with longing. What the hell was this? Despite her emotional turmoil, her body seemed to miss the intimacy and ecstasy of his touch.
He kissed her, his lips hard yet gentle on hers. She should push him away, but she couldn’t resist. She had no willpower, especially when she wanted it as much as he did. He was the only man who could make her lose her head.
Just one final taste.
She met his tongue with hers with boldness born from the knowledge he wouldn’t be able to take things very far in the hallway. She could smell a faint whiff of his cologne, which had become her favorite scent the moment she’d met him. His mouth coaxed her, flirting with her, drawing her closer to him until she never wanted to be apart from him.
She pulled him closer, her arm around his shoulders to make sure he would keep his mouth on hers. His erection pressed against her belly, and she moaned softly as her skin tingled at the contact.
This was the only time she felt she could be as greedy as she wanted, giving him as much pleasure as he was giving her and showing him how much he meant to her. His physical reaction to her was starkly honest. If only she could be sure of his feelings for her the way she was of his body…
“You sure you want to give this up?”
It took a moment for the words to register. She pulled back.