Devoured - Cathryn Fox Page 0,6
If they can’t see your value, that’s on them.” She goes quiet, so quiet worry weaves its way through my body. Shit, maybe I shouldn’t have been so blunt when reminding her of her past. “Peyton?”
She blinks, the sound of her swallowing breaking the silence. “Thank you.”
I wave my finger back and forth between the two of us. “As for you touching me and me not flinching, I guess we’ll have to practice,” I say.
“Are you suggesting...” Mimicking my motion, she waves her hand back and forth, her words falling off as her dark lashes fall slowly over alarmed eyes.
“What I’m saying is we’ll have to figure out a way not to react when touching each other.” Not going to happen. “What did you think I was saying?”
“That.” She nods. “That’s what I thought you were suggesting. How do we go about that?”
“I’m not sure.”
“We’d better figure it out, don’t you think? Tomorrow we’ll be meeting my boss and the other teachers and the person I’m in competition with for the full-time position.”
As she rambles, I study her mouth. The woman is sweet and sexy and so goddamn lush, but her never-ending questions and underlying accusations make me want to tie her up and busy her mouth in many other ways. Dirty ways. Delicious ways. Ways that would undoubtedly shock this sweet, young girl and have her pleading for mercy.
Seriously, you wouldn’t believe what I’d do, the lengths I’d go to, to see those lush red lips parted, begging me for...anything. It’s almost frightening and I have to fight it down with every fiber of my being. I redirect my thoughts to get my damn erection under control. Once my dick is marshalled into submission, I stand and reach over her head.
She flinches and presses herself into the leather seat. “What are you doing?” she asks. But holy Jesus I don’t miss the breathlessness in her voice or the way her skin flushed from my closeness. Yeah, okay, it’s true, the pull between us is insane, like so far off the charts, it’s a nuclear explosion waiting to happen.
But it’s not going to happen.
Cason didn’t just take me under his wing in college. He’s my best friend, the guy who had my back all through college, the guy who took a chance and hired me for a crucial position in his fledgling company and he was there to pick up the pieces when I finally faced the fact that women don’t want me for me, they want to marry into my family. Honesty is important and my ex’s betrayal gutted me.
Hypocrite much?
Okay, yeah, it’s true. I screwed up with Peyton last summer. I can blame it on the romantic atmosphere, the consumption of champagne, and if I try really hard, I can blame it on heartbreak. But the simple truth is this: I wanted Peyton. I wanted her like a drowning man wants a life raft, a thirsty man wants a drink, peanut butter wants jelly.
Yeah. It’s bad.
It’s really bad.
And now? Well, and now I have to spend the next few weeks in Malta pretending to be her husband, and not exercise any of the rights that go with that.
I adjust the overhead vent. “I’m turning the air off. You’re shivering.”
“Oh, thanks.”
Back in my seat, my gaze seeks out hers and I say, “Seems you need to work on not reacting, too.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You damn near jumped out of your shoes when you thought I was about to touch you, Peyton.”
Her green eyes are stormy, like the warm Mediterranean Sea stirred up during a squall. “You took me by surprise is all,” she says, throwing my words back at me. But we’re both smart enough to know what’s going on here.
I grin. “Yeah, okay.”
“You say that like you don’t believe me,” she shoots back, and weariness fills my bones. I’m done bickering and answering questions. I reach into my pocket and pull out a small velvet box. Her eyes widen and her hand goes to her chest.
“What...what is that?”
I open the box and present a ring. She gasps, her startled gaze flying to mine. “Roman?”
“This is why I was late last night. I was having issues getting this from my safety deposit box. There was some kind of mix-up.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t understand.”
“What’s not to understand? If we’re going to pretend we’re married, we have to cover all bases. Presenting you with my grandmother’s ring is the first base.”
Don’t think of first base, Roman.
I’m thinking of