Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 77341 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77341 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
I plant both hands on his chest and shove him away. He takes a step back, chuckling.
“I hate you,” I say, walking toward the doorway. “We’re not even married yet, and I hate you already.”
“I’ve heard makeup sex is the best, anyway. We’re off to a good start.”
He follows me into the kitchen, stopping at the counter while I pour myself a glass of water. I can barely think straight. Everything is so convoluted, so jumbled together in a thick fog. Not to mention feeling so needy—so incredibly turned on. And he’s barely touched me.
The glass is cool in my hands. I press it between my breasts to help cool my body. Foxx’s attention settles on my chest.
“I should take this shirt off right now and torture you,” I say.
His eyes darken.
“But then—what the heck is that?” I set the glass down and point out the window overlooking the street. “Is that a … chicken on a leash?”
Foxx looks at the ceiling. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
I scoot across the room and peer out the window. A man about Foxx’s size, with a bandanna tied around his forehead, walks down the street with two chickens on a leash.
“Who is that?” I ask, looking at Foxx over my shoulder. “And am I seeing that correctly? He’s walking two chickens like you would dogs. Right? Or am I really losing my mind?” I pause. “That would make sense—the mind loss and not the chicken walking. I just thought we were getting married. Clearly, I’m losing it.”
Foxx exhales, clearly perturbed. “That’s one of my brothers. Jess.”
I glance out the window again. “Jess is kind of cute.”
I barely get the words out of my mouth before Foxx is behind me. His fingers dig into my waist as he spins me around.
My breath is stolen by the heat boiling off him.
“Say that again, and you’ll be sorry,” he says.
“What? That Jess is hot?”
He laughs angrily.
“He is,” I say, resting my hands on his shoulders. “He’s not as hot as you are, but I’m currently overwhelmed with needs to be met, and my fiancé refuses to meet them. It could just be a haze of desire that’s clouding my vision. You could fuck that out of me, you know.”
Foxx studies me. The mischievous grin he wears makes me regret talking shit.
“Fine,” he says, giving me his trademark shrug. “Guess what happens now?”
“You peel me out of this shirt and slam your cock inside me?”
He rolls his hips against me. He’s rock-hard, and the sensation makes me whimper.
“No.” He pulls away. “I’m not fucking you now until our honeymoon.”
I drop my hands. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Oh, sweetheart. You have a thing or two to learn about me.” He turns and moseys into the kitchen like our exchange didn’t happen. “When do you want to get married?”
“To you? Maybe never now.”
He pours a glass of tea like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
I’m clearly going to lose this battle. I might be able to wage a solid war if I had my shit together. But my emotions have been shredded and strewn today, and getting a solid plan together to screw him back is a little out of my capabilities this afternoon.
I slump into a seat as exhaustion settles into my bones. I’m frazzled and overwhelmed and just want this part of it to be over.
“It’s really hard for me to figure out the logistics of this wedding without knowing anything about this area,” I say. “Hell, Foxx, I still don’t even have clothes here.”
He takes a sip of tea and then sets his glass down. “We’ll get you clothes today. Do you want to arrange to bring some of your things here from Nashville?”
I hadn’t thought of that. “I mean, yeah. I’ll want a few things, but I’ll coordinate that with Astrid. She’s already sending me a care package, but I’ll need a lot more. I’ll call her in a little bit.”
“What are we telling people?”
“That we’re getting married, right?”
“It must be believable. We must have a consistent story, so it’s not questioned.”
I grin. “Want to say we’ve been having a hot affair behind closed doors, and you fell so madly in love with me that you can’t take it anymore?”
“They do say that lies are more believable when they have truths built into them.”
I’m not sure what he means by that. But I am sure he’s not going to tell me.
“That’s fine. Let’s say that,” he says, moving along before I can question him. “We’ll say we’ve been in a quiet relationship for a couple of years, and we decided to get married.”
“How do we do that? Get married, I mean?”
He leans against the counter. “You don’t want to go to the courthouse, right?”
I shake my head. “No. I understand that ethics at this point are moot, but it’s important to me.”