He’s done before I even reach step two of ten, gently touching my arm again before leaving the bathroom, shutting thedoor behind him to give me some privacy. I slump a hip against the sink and take a breath to ground myself.
Figgy not believing we’re married for the right reasons isn’tgreat, but Thomas is right—if we stick this out, she’ll hopefully get fed up and move on. And considering his mother is my newest fan, I can’t imagine she and Thomas’s father will keep pushing Figgy toward him. Everything is going to befine. No one’s stealing my husband.
I finish the rest of my routine and change into my pajamas—champagne-hued silk shorts and a camisole. Might have been a mistake, though, because the second I step into the bedroom, I shiver as my feet hit the hardwood. I could have sworn it wasn’t this cold when I first walked in, but maybe that was the effect of hiking up two staircases and the liquor warming me up.
I know for certain my sartorial choice is a mistake when Thomas looks over. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, down to only his black boxer briefs now, and if I felt a pull toward him when he was just shirtless, Thomas in nothing but his underwear is…Yeah, it’s going to be a problem.He’sa problem. Why couldn’t I have married someone slightly less attractive who I wouldn’t have such a hard time keeping my hands off of?
When his eyes dip from my face to somewhere lower, I don’t have to guess what he’s staring at. I can feel how hard my nipples are, pointing loud and proud through the thin material. It’s mostly because I’m freezing, but also because—
No.Nope.Not even going to acknowledge it. Not gonna think about it. And I’m certainly not going to give any value to the pressure that’s growing between my thighs.
Refusing to think aboutanyof it, including the way he’s looking at me like I’m a whole damn meal, I march over to the opposite side of the bed and pull back the covers. Again, thepillowcases are silk and they’re not the ones I brought with me. Either everyone in this family knows the merit of sleeping on them, or this is just another thing Thomas has done for me. If it’s the latter, then my ass is definitely in trouble, because acts of service are my weakness, and he keeps throwing them at me like grenades.
Even though I’m curious, I don’t ask. I simply slide under the covers, tie my hair up with my silk scrunchie, and pray it’ll still look good in the morning, because I am not about to let this man see me with a bonnet on. We may be married, but we sure as hell aren’t on that level yet.
The bed is thankfully an oversized king, the kind where you could roll over twice and still not make contact with your bedmate. I barely feel it when Thomas climbs in on his side.
“Well, good night,” I tell him, reaching over to turn off the lamp on my bedside table. “We’ll try again with Figgy tomorrow. Maybe if we stare lovingly into each other’s eyes over breakfast and call each other the most disgusting pet names we can think of she’ll believe us.”
Thomas snorts as he turns off his lamp, plunging the room into darkness. “I’ll start brainstorming. Good night, sugar muffin.”
“Night, baby cakes.”
I force myself to stop smiling and shut my eyes, to turn over onto my side with my back to him. Jet lag is still riding me hard, so falling asleep shouldn’t be difficult. Or at least it wouldn’t be if I didn’t feel like I was slowly being turned into an ice cube. Seriously, did someone turn down the heat in our room specifically?
I spend twenty minutes shivering before I finally flop over onto my back, fed up. I’m about to push back the duvet andsearch my suitcase for a sweater when Thomas asks, “You all right?”
I squint over in the darkness, guilty that I might have woken him, but I’m not about to lie. “This old-ass house is freezing,” I say through clenched teeth. “Are there more blankets somewhere?”
I can’t completely make out his features, though I can see him shake his head. “Probably not in here. I run hot, so I don’t usually ask the staff to keep any extras in the chest.” And then he says, a little lower, “Come closer. I’ll keep you warm.”
For a terribly weak moment, I consider it. I even inch a little closer before I halt. “No,” I snap, mostly for my own benefit. “No cuddling. Rule number five.”
“I thought we only had three rules.”
“I addedno flirtingas number four.”
He chuckles, a rumble that vibrates straight up my legs to their apex. “We’ve broken that about a million times already. Shall we just makeno cuddlinga rule and break it too?”
“Oh, don’t be a smart—”
Heated skin meets mine before I can finish the insult. I almost feel bad when my toes brush his calf, but even though he lets out a shocked hiss of air between his teeth at their temperature, he doesn’t pull away. He just hauls me closer, tucking himself around me.
“Crikey, you really are freezing,” he mumbles against my hair. His arm is locked across my waist, hand tucked under my rib cage, just an inch or two below the curve of my breast.
“Please never saycrikeyagain in my presence,” I exhale, butfuck, he does run hot and it’s glorious.
“No promises.”
Despite the position, I relax as the heat of his body seepsinto mine, loosening my muscles and easing the goose bumps on my skin. My nipples, the traitors, are still hard as rocks. Unsurprising, considering the press of his body against mine is delicious, and I’m not talking about him being a sentient heating pad.
Staring at Thomas and his marble-statue body is one thing. Feeling it up close and personal is another. He’s all smooth skin and rough palms, hard muscles and soft touches. He even slips his knee between mine, every inch of my back pressing against every inch of his front. The sensation sends me straight back to the night at the strip club, sitting in his lap, his fingers gliding up my thigh and sinking into my wetness. The way he sent me over the edge of pleasure with such little effort. How easily he could do it again—and how I know I’d let him.
“Stop fidgeting.”
The grumbled words against the top of my head have me stilling, not even realizing I was moving. “I wasn’t,” I huff, grateful he can’t see my face and the embarrassment written across it, because okay, yeah, maybe Iwasmoving a little to alleviate the growing ache.
“You were.” His hand moves down from underneath my ribs to grip my hip. It sends a bolt of lightning through me, igniting the fuel that was already coursing down to my center. “You were grinding back against me. Keep it up, and you’re going to start something we can’t finish.”
