Not-So Temporarily Married(3)By: Fiona Davenport
“At five and a half feet tall, you’ll fit just right when I hold you against me. Your gorgeous curves are enough to make me insane when another man looks at you. And, you’re sweet as hell”—I paused and rose my eyebrows—“Do you need to hear more?”
Her eyes had slowly widened, her mouth opening in a perfect “O” of surprise. “How do you...” she trailed off.
“I can’t help but notice everything about you, baby.” My eyes pinned her down and I didn’t even try to hide the heat in them. I almost blurted out that she was mine, but managed to stifle the compulsion at the last second.
She nibbled on her lower lip for a minute, then sighed. “Okay. If you’re sure it won’t be a huge inconvenience. I mean, it’s two years of a pretend marriage. But, I’d be really grateful to get temporarily married.”
I barely contained my scoff. Temporarily? Over my dead body. But, I decided to save that conversation until after the ink was dry on our marriage certificate. Instead, I stood from where I’d been sprawled on a chair and walked around her desk. Grasping her hands, I pulled her up and wrapped her in my arms. My head lowered and I closed my mouth over hers. Her little gasp of surprise worked to my advantage and I slipped my tongue inside.
She tasted even more incredible than I’d imagined. My hands dropped to her ass and I squeezed, forcing her closer, letting her feel what she did to me. I’d been a walking hard-on for two fucking months. Constantly dreaming of what it was going to be like when I finally got her under me. Tearing my mouth from hers, I stared down into her cloudy green eyes. That was about to change, I vowed. Before the night was over, my dreams would become reality.
When I’d woken up this morning, I’d been in a shit mood. Every damn day, my bed seemed emptier, something I hadn’t even noticed for years until Zoe walked into my office. I hadn’t been able to come up with a feasible plan for getting her to at least go on a date with me. Other than to tie her ass up and keep her prisoner until she agreed. An idea that still held merit.
Now, the perfect fucking solution had fallen into my lap. More than perfect because this wasn’t just dating. I didn’t have to go slow and convince her of what I already knew. She and I were made for each other. This meant I’d be able to skip all the bullshit and make her completely, officially mine. Claimed by law so everyone would know who she belonged to. My dick twitched happily at the thought.
I let her go with another quick peck on her kiss-swollen lips and walked towards the door. “I’ll make the arrangements while you go home and pack a bag.” Without waiting for her reply, I stalked over to my office and sat at my desk. I sent an email to Samantha with a list of meetings that couldn’t be handled by my managers and needed to be rescheduled. Then I told her to make sure she cleared my schedule for the next week or so.
Plane tickets were next on the to-do list. I wished there was a way to make it appear as though this trip wasn’t quite so spontaneous. Then it hit me. Apparently, Lady Luck was rewarding me for two months of patience because I suddenly remembered a conversation with my friend Jeremy during our poker night a few days before. He’d planned a trip to Vegas for the coming weekend and was taking his private jet. Hitching a ride meant less of a paper trail.
I gave him a call and convinced him to start his trip early. He even agreed to let us use his incredible house in Malibu for our honeymoon, another way to avoid the appearance of impulse. Groveling was involved, along with a pretty hefty discount on his next construction project. But, like I’d said, Zoe was worth it.
Zoe was unusually quiet from the moment I picked her up at her apartment building. I wasn’t fond of her neighborhood and wanted to lecture her about her safety habits, but it might give away the fact that I’d practically stalked her for the last two months. Making sure she was always safely in for the night before going home. It might also have had something to do with making sure she didn’t date anyone else. And, I might have warned off a few guys who looked interested.
I pulled into the private airport and drove out to hangar ten. Jeremy was just boarding and he stopped to wave in the direction of his yellow Ferrari, parked in the hangar next door. I maneuvered my much less ostentatious, black Audi right next to it then turned the car off and hopped out. Rounding the hood, I opened Zoe’s door and helped her from her seat.
She glanced around with an unbelieving expression, taking in the man helping with our bags, before settling her gaze on the jet. “I can’t believe we’re doing this,” she whispered. “It’s surreal.”