Page 53 of Fall For Me
I grab her waist and pull her flush against me, spinning us until her back is plastered to the window.
Peyton gasps as I press her against the glass, pinning her there with my hips, my palm flat next to her face. Her smirk vanishes into a startled ‘O.’
“You think this is funny?” I snarl, leaning down until our noses almost touch.
She swallows, her chest heaving against mine. The friction of the wool jacket against my shirt is electric.
“I—” She licks her lips.
My gaze drops to the movement, tracking the shine of moisture on her mouth.
“This morning,” I say through gritted teeth, “you seemed ready to be a naughty wife. Ogling me in my towel.”
Her breath hitches against my jaw.
“So let me be clear.” I press closer, my thigh sliding between hers, the jacket riding up. “In this arrangement, sex is off the table.”
For a beat, she’s silent. Her chest keeps rising and falling against mine, rapid and uneven.
Then she finds her voice.
“Is that why you’re mansplaining it to me,” she says, breathless but pointed, “while keeping me pressed to a window?”
The words are a bucket of ice water.
I release her as if she’s caught fire. Step back. Put three feet of empty air between us, my pulse roaring in my ears.
What the fuck am I doing?
Peyton is flushed, tousled, her curls messy, and my jacket is askew on her shoulders. “I apologize.” I turn around, running a hand through my hair. I can’t look at her. “That was out of line.”
I pace away. “I’m a man with functioning eyes and a pulse. You pushed, and I reacted. It won’t happen again.”
I keep my back to her. “Go put some clothes on. Please.”
Her gaze burns between my shoulder blades.
“Fine,” she says, her voice shaky but laced with that stubborn bite. “Since you asked so nicely.”
I listen to the soft pad of bare feet on the hard floor. I don’t turn until I hear her on the stairs.
I cross to the study door and shut it, pressing my palm flat against the wood.
What just happened?
I’m controlled. Calculated. I handle mergers, hostile takeovers, and my father’s impossible expectations without breaking a sweat. But she baited me. That’s the part I can’t get past.
Why? To prove she could? To reclaim power?
I can’t afford a wife who knows how to unhinge me. I have too much riding on the stability of this marriage. I can’t let it turn into a volatile game of cat and mouse.
We need to clear the air. Set some house rules.
I yank the door open and march up the stairs.
Time to reclaim the high ground.
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