More Than Hate You (More Than Words)

“What do you mean?”

“Prove I don’t turn you on. Put on that lacy little whatever Nia picked out for you and give me ten minutes to touch you. Just touch. If you’re not aroused enough to beg me for more, I won’t lay a finger on you as long as we’re in this suite.”

“Why should I say yes to that?”

It’s a fair question. She doesn’t owe me anything. We’re married, but I spoke vows knowing that any part of her body or her heart she gives me, I’ll have to earn. Instead, I turn to Sales 101.

Tell her what’s in it for her.

“Because until you do, you’ll always be curious about what you’re missing.”

Sloan raises a fiery brow at me. “You think a lot of yourself.”

“No, I think a lot of our chemistry. It’s insane.” I step closer. “I’ll admit, you do something to me… The pull is ridiculously strong. Always has been, even before I saw your face.”

My wife doesn’t answer right away. “How do I know that’s not flattery and BS?”

“It’s not. But if it was, would it really matter? You’d have your curiosity satisfied, your itch scratched. The way I want you already makes me weak. It’s possible that, once I get you underneath me, I’ll be even weaker.” Maybe it’s not smart to tell her the truth, but I want to be real with her.

She snorts. “Or it’s possible you’ll unravel me with pleasure.”

“You’d have to want me for that to be possible. Do you?” I brush a finger over her exposed collarbone, staring into her blue eyes. “Is there any part of you that doesn’t care we’re supposed to be enemies? Or are you simply too afraid?”

That should hit her hot button.

“I’m not afraid of you,” she shoots back as if that idea is laughable.

“No?” I lean back on the chaise and send her a challenging stare. I’m not trying to manipulate her, just giving her stubborn pride a reason to say yes.

“Fine.” She sighs, then hops to her feet and grabs the box Nia gave her, marching to the attached bath. “Give me a minute.”

“You’re going to prove you don’t want me?

“I’m going to figure out what this is”—she gestures between us—“once and for all.”

Then she disappears into the spa bath. I take the opportunity to pour her another glass of champagne, eagerly tear off my tie, sweep all the decorative pillows off the bed, then toss some of the rose petals lining the bottom of the gift basket across our pristine white sheets.

After that, there’s nothing left to do but take off my shoes and socks, pace, and stare at the door as my stomach twists and my cock throbs.

It seems like half of forever before Sloan finally eases the door open. She sticks her head out first, using the door to block my view of her body. Even so, it’s impossible to miss her long curls tumbling over one slender shoulder and the spaghetti strap playing peekaboo beneath.

I don’t even have to see the rest to know she’s going to be the most beautiful fucking woman I’ve ever had in my bed.

“Baby…” I breathe. “Come here.”

“This getup…it’s too much.”

Which means she thinks it doesn’t cover enough. Perfect.

“If you’re wearing it, it looks beautiful.” I hold out my hand. “Show me.”

Slowly, she turns out the bathroom light and eases through the door, then glares at me.

I nearly drop my jaw on the floor.

Holy shit, I need to thank Nia profusely because my wife is a vision.

The creamy white spaghetti straps over her shoulders give way to tiny triangles of lace that almost cover her breasts…but not quite. Satin cups the swells beneath like a pair of loving hands. An innocent little bow wraps just under, emphasizing how tiny she truly is. It’s easy to forget, given how big her drive and personality are.