Page 30 of The Wrong Billionaire
“About what?”
“Do you really think your boyfriends cheated on you because you weren’t good in bed?”
A tear spills over my lashes, and I wipe it away. “I don’t want to talk about it,” I whisper.
“Well, you have to. Because that’s what couples do. They talk. And no, don’t shake your head. We’re going to be a couple, Wren. You’re going to marry me, and we’re going to have amazing sex, and then we’re going to have a baby. Hopefully more than one. So I need you to tell me what the problem is. Because solving problems is my job. And I don’t walk away from things that matter to me.”
Chapter Seven
Marcus
“You’re so arrogant,” Wren snaps through her tears. “You can’t just snap your fingers and expect me to marry you. Or to have sex with you. Or to love you.” She glares at me.
I stay calm. “I like to think I’m confident, not arrogant. And you’re right. I can’t make you do anything. In fact, I don’twantto make you do anything. I’m hoping all those things will happen voluntarily.”
She wipes beneath her eyes. I’m not sure what she’s most upset about—the memory of her breakups, or the thought of being married to me.
“Babe,” I say, puzzled. “Tell me why you think you’re bad in bed.”
“I’m just a primary school teacher.”
“Okay. Well, as far as I know, even primary school teachers can have good sex.”
“Don’t make fun of me. I mean that I’m just… me. An ordinary woman.”
“Again, ordinary women can enjoy sex, too. I don’t understand why you think they can’t? Why do you think you’re no good at it?”
“Because I’ve been told.”
“What!” It’s my turn to glare. “Who told you that?”
“Mars, nobody had to tell me. They all cheated on me. What more proof do you need?”
“They cheated on you because they were a bunch of wankers who wouldn’t have known a good thing if it had jumped up and down in front of them waving a sign saying ‘Look at me, I’m a good thing’ with a big red arrow above it.”
She gives an involuntary snort. “Don’t make me laugh. I’m too upset.”
“Their loss,” I say. “My gain.”
She wipes beneath her eyes again and sends me a sad look. “Please, don’t.” Her bottom lip trembles.
She’s genuinely upset. And I’m genuinely angry, although I’d never let on. Men often joke about women being ‘pillow princesses’ and ‘starfish’ because they’re not as active as they want them to be in bed. But in my experience, and I’ve had a fair bit, if girls are reticent it’s usually because they’re nervous or inexperienced. Both of these things can be remedied with a bit of patience, tons of foreplay, and some TLC.
The sea washes up the sand and retreats with a gentle whoosh. Seagulls swoop and cry overhead. Somebody’s eating strawberries with their picnic, and the air smells sweet and salty. Music filters up from someone’s phone—Taylor Swift’sLove Story—and despite Wren’s obvious emotion, she still hums a couple of lines. It makes me smile.
I want to pull her into my arms and tell her everything’s going to be all right. But while she sniffles and snuffles, I make myself sit still and give her some space.
“Okay, talk to me,” I say when she’s calmed down a little. “Come on, we’ve known each other a long time.”
She pulls her legs up, wraps her arms around them, and rests her cheek on her knees. Then she sighs. “I don’t want you to be disappointed with me.”
“I won’t.”
“You will. Of course you will, when I tell you.”
“Well, there’s no point in us getting married with secrets. So come on, tell me what the problem is.”
“I don’t like sex,” she says.
