Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 119548 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 398(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119548 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 398(@300wpm)
He shook his head, looking like he wanted to wring my neck for that nickname.
Hey, I know I said I’d stick to his name, but if he was going to insist on calling me ‘my pretty wife,’ then I had to get him back somehow.
Babykins just seemed right.
Besides, it’d been his teenage nickname once upon a time. He’d called me sugartits to piss me off once when we’d had an argument, so I’d responded in kind with babykins, and they’d both just kind of… stuck.
Not that much, though, but it’d been a good few months of us calling each other nothing but that until we got tired of it.
Now, though?
I was going to stick to this nickname like glue. Morning, noon, and night, until he stopped calling me his ‘pretty wife.’
I was sure he was doing it just to piss me off, the little shit.
“I’m not that much of a good person,” Fred said after a moment. “I do a lot of the things I should do, but that doesn’t mean they’re the things I want to do. They don’t often cross over.”
“So… Do you not want to help your staff?”
“No, no, I do. It’s my duty, but only because I care enough to make it so.”
“All right, so that’s what you want to do. Did you marry me because you should have? Or because you wanted to?”
He eyed me for a moment. “You already know the answer to that.”
I sighed dramatically, propping my chin up on my hand and resting my elbow on the island. “I knew it. It was something you ‘should do.’ Poor me.”
He leant over, his blue gaze intensely fixed on mine. My heart did a little skip at the ferocity in his eyes, and when I opened my mouth to ask him what he was doing, he pressed his finger against my lips, quietening me.
His fingertip was warm and firm, and something inside me desperately wanted to mess with him.
I wanted to lick it.
I wanted to nip it.
I wanted to ki—
No, no, no.
18
* * *
FRED
Deli’s copper gaze widened as I pressed my finger to her lips. Conflict warred in her beautiful eyes, and a light flush of pink flooded her cheeks.
I wanted to tease her.
A vision of me running my fingertip along the full curve of her lower lip flashed through my brain, and I clenched my toes inside my shoes as if it could dispel the impulse.
As if it could get rid of the memory of how hot and soft her lips were when we kissed at the wedding.
Three weeks.
It’d been three weeks since that day, and that fleeting moment had tortured me more than once.
Intrusive thoughts.
They were nothing but intrusive thoughts.
This was Delilah, for fuck’s sake. Even if I was attracted to her, even if I wanted to break every promise I’d made to us both and kiss her right here, right now, it didn’t mean she felt the same way.
The light flush on her cheeks could be anything. She blushed easily, after all. The tiniest compliment or slightest hint of embarrassment brought colour to her face, so there was no way I was going to read into this.
Besides, I knew she’d never break her word.
She’d sworn this would be a platonic marriage, as I had.
And right now, I wasn’t crossing any lines. I was touching her the way I always had, with only a few performative extras when other people were around. When it was just the two of us, though, nothing changed.
At least that’s what I was telling myself.
Could I really say I’d be this close to her before the wedding?
No.
That was a line of thought I didn’t want to walk down.
“I married you because I wanted to,” I said firmly. “So, stop bringing it up. You aren’t a burden to me. Your family is not a burden to my family. Your happiness is our happiness, so stop with guilting yourself, all right?”
“I know, but I just—”
This time, I silenced her with my hand fully over her mouth instead of my finger. “You’re a broken record, Delilah. Be quiet.”
I could see in her eyes that she was pouting, and before I could placate her, she bit me.
She fucking bit me.
I hissed, yanking my hand away from her face. “You little—”
She poked her tongue out at me. “I couldn’t breathe!” She checked her watch and hopped off the stool. “I have work in a couple of hours. I’m going to take a bath.”
“Try not to bite anyone on the way,” I replied, rubbing the spot on my hand that the little menace had sunken her teeth into.
“If they keep their hands to themselves, there won’t be a problem.” She left the kitchen, taking her tea with her, and smiled at one of the housekeepers. “Good afternoon!”
The housekeeper startled, then quickly bowed her head and said, “Good afternoon, my lady.”