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Authors: Joan Johnston
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waist. Her treacherous body melted against him. She forced herself to stiffen in his embrace. “Don’t, Billy,” she said in a quiet voice.
“You’re my wife, Cherry.”
“In name only,” Cherry reminded him. “We can pretend for everybody else, but I think it’s best if we’re honest with each other. We aren’t in love, Billy. We never will be.”
Billy’s hands dropped away, but he didn’t move. She felt the heat of his body along the entire length of her back. Her eyes slid closed, and she held herself rigid to keep from leaning back into his fiery warmth.
“If we’re being honest,” Billy said in a husky voice, “I think you should know I’m more than a little attracted to you, Cherry. I have been since the moment I first laid eyes on you.” Billy took her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. “That’s the truth.”
She lifted her eyes to meet his. “That’s lust, Billy. Not love.”
His dark eyes narrowed, and his hands dropped away from her shoulders. “There’s nothing wrong with desiring your wife in bed.”
“I’m not your wi—”
“Dammit, Cherry!”
When Billy took a step back and shoved his hands into his jeans pockets, Cherry had the distinct impression he did it to keep himself from reaching for her again.
“You are my wife,” he said through gritted teeth. “Not forever. Not even for very long. But we most definitely are married. I suggest you start thinking that way!”
Before she could contradict him, he was gone, the screen door slamming behind him.
B ILLY COULDN’T REMEMBER a time when he had been more frustrated. Even when he had been arguing with Laura about whether or not she should try to get pregnant again when the doctor had advised her against it, he hadn’t felt so much like he was butting his head against a stone wall. Deep down, he knew Cherry was right. It would be better for both of them if he kept his distance from her.
He had made up his mind to try.
Of course, that was before he stepped into Cherry’s bedroom the morning after their wedding. He had expected her to be up and dressed, since he had helped her set the alarm for 5:30 a.m. the previous evening. Apparently, she had turned it off.
He found her sleeping beneath tousled sheets, one long, exquisite leg exposed all the way to her hip, one rosy nipple peeking at him, her lips slightly parted, her silky red curls spread across the pillow, waiting for a lover’s hands to gather them up.
He cleared his throat noisily, hoping that would be enough to wake her. All she did was roll over, rearranging the sheet, exposing an entire milky white breast.
He swallowed hard and averted his eyes. He sat down beside her, thinking maybe the dip in the mattress would make her aware of his presence.
She slept on.
His gaze returned to rest on her face. Close as he was, he could see the dark shadows under her eyes. She must not have slept very well. He could understand that.He hadn’t slept too well himself. He had resorted to a desperate act—marriage—to solve one problem and had created a host of others in the process. Not the least of which was the fact he wanted to have carnal knowledge of his new wife.
He debated whether he ought to kiss her awake. But he wasn’t Prince Charming. And Sleeping Beauty had never had such a freckled face. Nevertheless, his body responded to the mere thought of pressing his lips against hers, of tasting the hot, sweet wetness of her mouth.
Billy swore viciously.
And Cherry woke with a start.
It took her a second to realize how exposed she was, and she grabbed at the sheet as she sat up and drew her knees to her chest. Her blue eyes were wide and wary. “What are you doing in here?”
“I came to wake you up. You overslept.”
She glanced at the clock, then dropped her forehead to her knees and groaned. “I must have turned off the alarm.”
“I figured as much when you didn’t show up in the kitchen. I’ve already had my breakfast. I left some
“You’re my wife, Cherry.”
“In name only,” Cherry reminded him. “We can pretend for everybody else, but I think it’s best if we’re honest with each other. We aren’t in love, Billy. We never will be.”
Billy’s hands dropped away, but he didn’t move. She felt the heat of his body along the entire length of her back. Her eyes slid closed, and she held herself rigid to keep from leaning back into his fiery warmth.
“If we’re being honest,” Billy said in a husky voice, “I think you should know I’m more than a little attracted to you, Cherry. I have been since the moment I first laid eyes on you.” Billy took her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. “That’s the truth.”
She lifted her eyes to meet his. “That’s lust, Billy. Not love.”
His dark eyes narrowed, and his hands dropped away from her shoulders. “There’s nothing wrong with desiring your wife in bed.”
“I’m not your wi—”
“Dammit, Cherry!”
When Billy took a step back and shoved his hands into his jeans pockets, Cherry had the distinct impression he did it to keep himself from reaching for her again.
“You are my wife,” he said through gritted teeth. “Not forever. Not even for very long. But we most definitely are married. I suggest you start thinking that way!”
Before she could contradict him, he was gone, the screen door slamming behind him.
B ILLY COULDN’T REMEMBER a time when he had been more frustrated. Even when he had been arguing with Laura about whether or not she should try to get pregnant again when the doctor had advised her against it, he hadn’t felt so much like he was butting his head against a stone wall. Deep down, he knew Cherry was right. It would be better for both of them if he kept his distance from her.
He had made up his mind to try.
Of course, that was before he stepped into Cherry’s bedroom the morning after their wedding. He had expected her to be up and dressed, since he had helped her set the alarm for 5:30 a.m. the previous evening. Apparently, she had turned it off.
He found her sleeping beneath tousled sheets, one long, exquisite leg exposed all the way to her hip, one rosy nipple peeking at him, her lips slightly parted, her silky red curls spread across the pillow, waiting for a lover’s hands to gather them up.
He cleared his throat noisily, hoping that would be enough to wake her. All she did was roll over, rearranging the sheet, exposing an entire milky white breast.
He swallowed hard and averted his eyes. He sat down beside her, thinking maybe the dip in the mattress would make her aware of his presence.
She slept on.
His gaze returned to rest on her face. Close as he was, he could see the dark shadows under her eyes. She must not have slept very well. He could understand that.He hadn’t slept too well himself. He had resorted to a desperate act—marriage—to solve one problem and had created a host of others in the process. Not the least of which was the fact he wanted to have carnal knowledge of his new wife.
He debated whether he ought to kiss her awake. But he wasn’t Prince Charming. And Sleeping Beauty had never had such a freckled face. Nevertheless, his body responded to the mere thought of pressing his lips against hers, of tasting the hot, sweet wetness of her mouth.
Billy swore viciously.
And Cherry woke with a start.
It took her a second to realize how exposed she was, and she grabbed at the sheet as she sat up and drew her knees to her chest. Her blue eyes were wide and wary. “What are you doing in here?”
“I came to wake you up. You overslept.”
She glanced at the clock, then dropped her forehead to her knees and groaned. “I must have turned off the alarm.”
“I figured as much when you didn’t show up in the kitchen. I’ve already had my breakfast. I left some
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