finger down his chest.
“Are we going to make love now ?” I
whispered against his lips, a bit more eager than I wanted to sound.
Ethan’s laughed. “Not until
you give me an answer...can we have a real marriage? Will you be my wife? For
real, this time. No games. No business. A real shot. Just you
and me, kiddo?”
I took a deep breath.
“When I’m married for real, I want to be in
love, Ethan. And I want a man who is deeply, passionately, in love with me.”
“What makes you think I’m not already in love
with you?”
Ethan looked and sounded genuine.
I
sighed. I couldn’t believe what he was asking me. This was a business
arrangement and a one-time roll in the hay, nothing more. The look in his eyes
was so sincere I just wanted to bury my face into his chest and hide. I kissed
Ethan again, hoping to make him forget. If I were to have a one night stand,
who better to have it with than the man I was married to? But Ethan wanted more
than that, which was like a bucket of cold water on my libido. Sex was one
thing, a real marriage was another. A relationship built on a lie was
doomed to fall apart anyway. Whatever Ethan believed when it came to our
relationship didn’t matter. We were not in love, we were in lust!
Sex would not only compromise the thirty-year
friendship between our fathers but would also strain an already tenuous
business relationship. So much had happened in the past twenty-four hours I
felt like my head was spinning. He stared unblinkingly at my face like a
injured puppy.
“I mean it. I can’t be in a real marriage with
you.”
I
pushed him aside and rolled out of bed, sheet wrapped around my body. He gazed
up at me with a wounded look in his eyes, raking a hand through his hair in
frustration. I tried albeit hopelessly, to look at his face and not at his
sweaty unclothed physique. Following my line of view, he grabbed a pillow,
covered his groin and rolled out of bed with an angry thud. I smothered a laugh.
Ethan looked ridiculous hiding behind a pillow.
“We’re already married and we’re about to have
sex. How can you say you’re not my wife? Or is marriage only convenient when
you want to share our bed? I’m not your whore, Elizabeth. Where I come from, dating
and sex is a pathway to marriage. Some of us have values and believe in the
sacredness of love and matrimony.”
“I’m a progressive American woman,” I
shrugged. “We don’t have to be married or in love to have sex.”
“But you are married. There’s nothing
wrong with sex or falling in love with your own husband!”
“There is when you’re married against your
will!” I snapped, an air of triumph to my tone.
Ethan smirked and a wave of heat rushed through
my body. Good grief, I wanted this man so bad . He looked into my eyes
and I averted my gaze, flushing at the idea of Ethan reading my thoughts. With
a strong masculine swipe, Ethan grabbed the bed sheet I wore and pulled me
close, my chest colliding softly against his. The pillow he used to cover
himself dropped to the floor at my feet.
“You were no more forced to marry me than you
were forced into our bed last night.”
He
had a point. I was drunk but fully aware of what I was doing. But these were
things I was not only unwilling to admit to Ethan, but unwilling to admit to
myself. I regrouped, tightening the sheet over my chest, the thin white barrier
that separated us. Through it, I could feel him pressing against me, his
arousal obvious.
“I
won’t sleep with you until you agree to a committed relationship. That’s not
who I am,” he continued.
“Understood. There’s no sense in arguing or
beating ourselves up about it. We made a mistake. Sue me for wanting to have
some fun,” I shrugged. “Moving forward, this marriage will be nothing more than
a contract, as intended from the start. I hope you understand.”
Ethan looked astounded, then finally, an
expression of acceptance appeared on his face. “Fine. We’ll
“Are we going to make love now ?” I
whispered against his lips, a bit more eager than I wanted to sound.
Ethan’s laughed. “Not until
you give me an answer...can we have a real marriage? Will you be my wife? For
real, this time. No games. No business. A real shot. Just you
and me, kiddo?”
I took a deep breath.
“When I’m married for real, I want to be in
love, Ethan. And I want a man who is deeply, passionately, in love with me.”
“What makes you think I’m not already in love
with you?”
Ethan looked and sounded genuine.
I
sighed. I couldn’t believe what he was asking me. This was a business
arrangement and a one-time roll in the hay, nothing more. The look in his eyes
was so sincere I just wanted to bury my face into his chest and hide. I kissed
Ethan again, hoping to make him forget. If I were to have a one night stand,
who better to have it with than the man I was married to? But Ethan wanted more
than that, which was like a bucket of cold water on my libido. Sex was one
thing, a real marriage was another. A relationship built on a lie was
doomed to fall apart anyway. Whatever Ethan believed when it came to our
relationship didn’t matter. We were not in love, we were in lust!
Sex would not only compromise the thirty-year
friendship between our fathers but would also strain an already tenuous
business relationship. So much had happened in the past twenty-four hours I
felt like my head was spinning. He stared unblinkingly at my face like a
injured puppy.
“I mean it. I can’t be in a real marriage with
you.”
I
pushed him aside and rolled out of bed, sheet wrapped around my body. He gazed
up at me with a wounded look in his eyes, raking a hand through his hair in
frustration. I tried albeit hopelessly, to look at his face and not at his
sweaty unclothed physique. Following my line of view, he grabbed a pillow,
covered his groin and rolled out of bed with an angry thud. I smothered a laugh.
Ethan looked ridiculous hiding behind a pillow.
“We’re already married and we’re about to have
sex. How can you say you’re not my wife? Or is marriage only convenient when
you want to share our bed? I’m not your whore, Elizabeth. Where I come from, dating
and sex is a pathway to marriage. Some of us have values and believe in the
sacredness of love and matrimony.”
“I’m a progressive American woman,” I
shrugged. “We don’t have to be married or in love to have sex.”
“But you are married. There’s nothing
wrong with sex or falling in love with your own husband!”
“There is when you’re married against your
will!” I snapped, an air of triumph to my tone.
Ethan smirked and a wave of heat rushed through
my body. Good grief, I wanted this man so bad . He looked into my eyes
and I averted my gaze, flushing at the idea of Ethan reading my thoughts. With
a strong masculine swipe, Ethan grabbed the bed sheet I wore and pulled me
close, my chest colliding softly against his. The pillow he used to cover
himself dropped to the floor at my feet.
“You were no more forced to marry me than you
were forced into our bed last night.”
He
had a point. I was drunk but fully aware of what I was doing. But these were
things I was not only unwilling to admit to Ethan, but unwilling to admit to
myself. I regrouped, tightening the sheet over my chest, the thin white barrier
that separated us. Through it, I could feel him pressing against me, his
arousal obvious.
“I
won’t sleep with you until you agree to a committed relationship. That’s not
who I am,” he continued.
“Understood. There’s no sense in arguing or
beating ourselves up about it. We made a mistake. Sue me for wanting to have
some fun,” I shrugged. “Moving forward, this marriage will be nothing more than
a contract, as intended from the start. I hope you understand.”
Ethan looked astounded, then finally, an
expression of acceptance appeared on his face. “Fine. We’ll
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