Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 15867 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 79(@200wpm)___ 63(@250wpm)___ 53(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 15867 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 79(@200wpm)___ 63(@250wpm)___ 53(@300wpm)
As I drift off, his words comfort me, even if I don't totally believe them.
The rest of the weekend is glorious. When I'm not coming so hard I can barely form words, I'm floating on cloud nine, falling for my husband at warp speed. For a blissful few days, I think maybe this arranged marriage is fate, a way to bring Xavier and me together, but the bubble of that fantasy pops the morning we're due to head home.
It all comes crashing down when I offhandedly mention how beautiful I find the ocean-colored paint accents in our suite, and Xavier responds with, "Well, you'll have an entire wing of the estate to yourself until the marriage is over. Go ahead and paint your room like this while you're there. Something to remember me by."
I know it's a joke, something meant to be lighthearted and flirtatious, but I feel like I've been slapped. It's a reminder of our situation, of why we married in the first place. I was so sure Xavier cared about me. I felt it in his touch, heard it in the dark, sensual things he'd say when we fucked. But I guess I'm still a pawn, nothing more than a tool to fulfill his father's wish to see his son married before he died.
Maybe I'd been stupid enough to forget that we'd be done with each other when we got home, but apparently it never left Xavier's mind.
I duck my head and dash tears from my eyes before he can notice what his words have done to me. "Yeah. To remember you by. Sure."
6
XAVIER
By the last day of our honeymoon, I'm sure I could have booked the weekend at a hotel down the road from my home and barely noticed the difference.
Because while Cozumel is beautiful, Maria and I end up spending most of the time in bed.
No matter how many times I have had Maria, and in how many ways, it doesn't sate my thirst for her. Instead, it just makes it worse, building the fire higher within me, until I can only find relief when I have her pressed against me or when I'm balls deep inside of her.
It's like we're in some sort of trance in Cozumel, eating, drinking, walking the beach, and fucking. To anyone looking at us, we appear like any other just-married couple. How is it we haven't even known each other a week, and already Maria has made a home beneath my skin?
It isn't just her body, either. Maria was brave enough to face this marriage with her head held high, and she's met me beat for beat ever since. She's fierce when she needs to be, and soft when she feels secure. She's funny and quick-witted, and I find that even when we aren't all over each other, I seek her out just to be close.
Hell, if I didn't know any better, I'd say I'm falling in love with her. But that's not possible after such a short time, is it?
Fuck. I'm a man who's supposed to know what he wants and who isn't afraid to make split-second decisions. Not being able to admit how I feel about Maria makes me feel like a fucking coward.
Reality doesn't settle in again until we're on the flight back home, and each hour that draws us closer to Chicago seems to be pushing the two of us apart. My Maria, with the love bites still red on her neck, leans away from me, chewing at her kiss-swollen bottom lip. By the time the plane lands, she doesn't even make an effort to take my hand or look back as we disembark.
It's pissing me off, but it shouldn't. I told her this was how I wanted things to be. We'd fuck, get it out of our system, and go back to our normal lives, pretending to be in love around my family but being completely separate otherwise. She said yes and agreed to it.
And yet I can't help feeling that things are different now. We had our honeymoon—or maybe a better term would be a sex marathon—and it changed things. Maybe she's just feeling unsure.
Or maybe I'm just an idiot, and this is a game to her.
The drive back to the estate feels longer than it did the last time. That means I have plenty of time to stew over Maria's silence. Once we pull into the driveway, I'm ready to snap, and I take her arm to guide her into the house. Inside, I shut the door behind us and back her against it, caging her in with my arms.
"What's going on with you?" I demand, meeting her gaze. "You've been giving me the cold shoulder since we got on the plane."
Maria crosses her arms, looking away. "Nothing. I'm fine."
"Bullshit," I snap. "Why are you so pissed off at me? Now that the honeymoon is over, you’re feeling like a prisoner again, is that it? Or do you regret letting me fuck you?”