Page 66 of Bridesmaid By Chance
She brings the fork up to my mouth and I part my lips despite her bringing up that fucker again. I know I shouldn’t be jealous, and I know that she’s probably talking about him on purpose to make me crazy and, Christ, is it working.
“Would you rather be naked right now?” I ask her.
“You know how I feel about foods and nudes,”she says with a wiggle of her brows before she sets the fork in her mouth and slowly pulls off the noodles. After she chews and swallows, she asks, “Do you think we’ll ever see each other naked?”
I nearly choke on the water I’m swallowing. I set the glass down and dab my mouth with my napkin. “What kind of question is that?”
“An honest one,” she says. “It’s obvious that you find me attractive. You know I find you attractive, and we’re married, so it’s inevitable, right? Like what if I just happened to walk in on you while you were showering?”
“You’d see me showering,” I simply say.
“So you wouldn’t care?”
“What are you trying to get at, Sloane?”
Frustrated, she blows out a breath and says, “You’re all about treating this as a real marriage. But you won’t talk to me about who you are as a person. Therefore, we can go to option two, and that’s the other thing married couples do. They fuck. So don’t you want to fuck? Don’t you want to get rid of this tension? It’s…it’s getting in the way, and I feel like if we just fucked, then it wouldn’t be a big deal. We could be the married couple we’re supposed to be and then we can go on our merry ways when it’s all over.”
“No, Sloane.”
“Why not?” she asks as she pushes the food away and takes a seat on the table in front of me to really get a good look.
“Because it would complicate things.”
“Things are already complicated,” she says. “They became complicated the moment we got married.”
“This will make it that much more complicated.”
She folds her arms at her chest. “Then how the hell am I supposed to treat you as my husband if you won’t open up to me and you won’t fuck me? This is like being in jail. You want to take this seriously, but you’re making it impossible to do that.”
She has a very valid point, one that I have no counterpoint to. All I have is, I don’t want to open up to her because I don’t open up toanyone but my brother and sister. I don’t want her knowing the shitty side of my life because, in the grand scheme of things, it’s going to come off as the whiny rich boy who didn’t get the parental attention he wanted.
And fucking her? That’s completely off the table. I know the minute I give an inch, I’m going to take a fucking mile from her.
“You realize you’re not being a hero by denying me, right?” she continues. “Like, I don’t think that you’re some white knight, swooping in and saving my vagina from complication.”
“That’s not what I think.”
“Then what is it?” she asks, exasperated. “Is it Jude?”
“Yes, it’s Jude,” I say as I place my hands on her bare thighs. “I married you. That’s bad enough as it is, but if he knew I fucked you? Christ, Sloane, it could kill the business. Okay? It could hurt everything my brother and I have put together. It could hurt the relationship with Cane Enterprises. It could hurt Maggie and Brody, tarnish my relationship with Hardy. There is so much at stake, and I can’t be the selfish one here and think with my dick. I have to be smart.”
I watch as she processes what I said, her mind working overtime.
And to reassure her, I say, “If I had it my way, my actions would be different.” That’s when her eyes find mine, hope in her gaze, so I add, “But it’s not up to me. My dad spent his life being selfish, and I refuse to be the same person.”
She slowly nods and then exhales. “I can see where you’re coming from. I don’t agree with it because I’m a big girl, and I can make my own decisions. I don’t base my life around what my brother will think and how he will react. But sure, if that’s the way you want to handle this, then so be it.”
She hops off the table and goes to her side, where she picks up my plate and dumps half of the food onto her plate. When she starts digging in, I attempt to read her body, which is giving pissed-off vibes.
Just great.
“Sloane,” I say while I pick up my fork.
“Hmm?” she asks, her mouth full of pasta.
“Don’t be mad.”
She chews, swallows, and then says, “I’m not mad.”
