Trust Fund Fiance - Naima Simone Page 0,17

your inheritance. If he approves, we can have a quick wedding ceremony and start the ball rolling toward him releasing your money.”

Reagan studied his beard-covered jaw. Jesus, she was really considering this propo—no, proposition. This was more akin to a business arrangement. Complete with a contract. Except with a ring. And a wedding.

And a commitment. A commitment without...

She lifted her gaze to his and found herself locked in his almost too intense stare. Which was going to make this all the more difficult to vocalize.

“I know you, uh...” Fire blazed up her neck and poured into her face, and she briefly squeezed her eyes shut. “I know you enjoy female company. Won’t marrying me, um, interfere with...” She trailed off.

“Are you trying to ask me if I’m going to be able to endure going without sex?” he asked bluntly.

Damn. “Yes,” she pushed forward. Because although she threatened to be consumed in mortification, she needed this point to be clear. “If I agree to this—and that’s a big if—we have to appear as if we’re in love even though it’s not true. And that includes not going out on,” she paused, “dates with other women while we’re married.”

She didn’t even consider suggesting sex as part of their bargain. Ezekiel saw her as his cousin’s best friend, not a desirable woman. Offering him the option would only embarrass both of them, and she’d tasted rejection and humiliation enough to last her a lifetime. There were only so many times a woman could be told she was unwanted in words and action before she sympathized with the turtle, afraid to stick out her head from her shell in fear of it being lobbed off.

“Ray, look at me.” She did as he demanded, a little surprised to realize her gaze had dipped to his chin again. “I control my dick, not the other way around.”

Oookay. Hearing him utter that shouldn’t have been sexy. It should’ve offended her. But it was, and it didn’t. If the flesh between her legs had a vote, she should have a mix tape made with him saying dick over and over again.

Proposition. Platonic. Friend. No sex.

She wasn’t sure, but her vagina might have whispered, Spoilsport.

“I’m taking that as a yes, that other women would be out of the picture for the duration of our...arrangement,” she said, arching an eyebrow.

“Yes, Ray.” A smile curved his mouth, and she cursed herself for again wondering how he would feel, taste. Good thing sex was off the table. She probably wouldn’t survive it with this man. “Now, your answer. Or do you need more time to consider it? Will you be my trust fund fiancée?”

In spite of the thoughts whirling through her head, she almost smiled at his phrasing. Did she need more time? His arguments were solid. His reasons for sacrificing himself to her cause still remained nebulous, but if he was willing...

She allowed herself to imagine a future where she was independent. Where her work at the girls’ home in Colonial County would no longer have to be a secret she kept to herself out of fear of hurting her parents. A future where she could build a similar home here in Royal that supported teenage pregnant mothers who didn’t have the family support, health care or resources they so desperately needed.

She should know. She had been one.

And this would solve her dilemma with honoring her grandmother’s request even if the stipulation continued to hurt Reagan. She feared estrangement from her father, her family, and marrying Ezekiel would prevent that as well. Once, her father had been delighted about her friendship with a Wingate. Now she had the opportunity to marry into the family. Maybe he might even be...proud of her again?

Blowing out a breath, she pinched the bridge of her nose. Then lowered her arm and opened her eyes to meet the pale green scrutiny that managed to see too much and conceal even more.

“Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Five

“Are you sure about this?” Reagan questioned Ezekiel for, oh, probably the seventeenth time since she’d agreed to his...bargain. “It’s not too late to back out,” she said as he cut the engine in his car. Even riding in the Jaguar hadn’t been able to banish the nerves tightening inside her. Which was a shame. The car rode and handled like a dream.

Long, elegant fingers wrapped around the fist she clenched in her lap, gently squeezing. He didn’t speak until she tugged her scrutiny from their joined hands to his face.

“I’m sure, Reagan.