“Is this about sex?” I ask.
He looks at me like I just said I came from Mars. “What?”
“Samantha said no cheating, so I presume the money’s for paying me to go without for a year.”
“Well, yeah. There are certain expectations.” He drops his gaze to my lips, then back to my face. “But if you want sex, just ask. It won’t be cheating if you do it with me.”
My cheeks and chest heat as an image of that glorious male body dedicated to making me feel good suddenly is front and center in my mind’s eye. If even a tenth of the stories out there are true, Ryder’s got to be divine in bed.
“So if I don’t, um, ask, you’ll go without for a year, too?” God I sound breathless. Why don’t I just moan out loud, make it really obvious? He said he’d forgo sex, but he was angry at the time. Was he really serious?
The thing is, I thought I’d be okay with him sleeping with other women. But now that I have his ring on my finger, it’s starting not to feel okay. He won’t only be my boss anymore. He’ll be my husband, even if it’s just for a year. And a part of me doesn’t want to share him with anybody during that time.
Perverse, right?
Maybe I’m just a lot more traditional than I thought.
His face sets. “I’m not having sex with other women while we’re married. I told you I wouldn’t do anything to humiliate you.”
“But you’re really willing to forego sex altogether for that long?”
/>
His eyebrows hit his spectacularly great hairline. “Hey, whoa. I just said other women. What’s this altogether stuff?”
His tone is entirely too light, and amusement gleams in his eyes. I have no doubt he’s enjoying himself.
“Ryder…”
“Paige.” He angles my face and presses a kiss on my forehead. The deliberate motion is an exact repeat of last night. The way our heads and torsos are set is the same. He doesn’t linger any longer than he did before.
And—again—it leaves nothing but a knot of dissatisfaction in my chest. Last night, even as I lay in darkness and told myself how smart and strong I was, the baser part of me called me a hundred kinds of name, most of which were synonyms for stupid. If I had half the sense god gave a hummingbird, I would’ve ripped his clothes off and had my way with him. After all, we were in private, I had his ring on my finger, and he looked positively divine.
“You’ll get the lawyer Samantha recommended, and I’ll provide you with everything you need”—his fingertips stroke my cheek, making my thoughts scatter—“while we’re married.”
“It’s so unprofessional,” I breathe out the shaky words.
“Marriage isn’t supposed to be professional. We’re going to put on a show, remember? That means it’s got to look real.”
His warm breath fans at the corner of my mouth. I feel like I’m sinking into a pool of thick honey. I lick my lower lip, recalling our kiss after he put the ring on my finger. It set every nerve in my body on edge, like he put a live wire on my bare skin. I’ve never felt anything like it, not even during the best sex with my previous boyfriends.
“Then the ten million in alimony is entirely out of the question,” I whisper.
“I can’t not give you anything. It’d be grossly unfair. And your fancy lawyer’s going to object. Mark my words.”
“I’m a modern woman. I can earn my own money.”
“Modern, huh?” His gaze drops to my mouth…then to my cleavage, where my grandmother’s pendant rests. He makes eye contact with me. “Since you seem so set against money, how about something else?”
“Like what? Property? Stock options? It’s the sa—”
“Sexual pleasure.”
My lips part, but nothing comes out of my mouth. His thumb brushes over my wrist. My pulse leaps, the air in my lungs shudders.
It’s the last thing I expected him to say.
“Sex has been used for payment for a long time…although, traditionally, it’s been women providing it to men. But hey, like you said…it’s modern times.”