Big Man's Bride (Big Men Small Towns 1)

What is wrong with me?

The kiss changes all at once. Caleb’s tongue slips between my lips, and suddenly our tongues are dancing together, deeper, and my arms are sliding around his neck before I can stop myself. His hands are on my arms. They light my skin on fire even through the thin fabric of my dress. I barely felt his hands on my skin earlier, and now I want him to touch all of me. Every part.

Caleb’s hand rubs across my back and up the back of my neck, fingers reaching up into my hair so he can pull me closer. The kiss feels like an explosion, and the beginning of something that can’t be easily contained.

One month. A month of this. Of unrestrained, unexplained passion and pleasure, and at the end of it I get my grandfather’s house out of the deal? That isn’t a bad thing. In fact, this might be the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time.

I shift myself so my body is plastered against his, and Caleb breaks away from me, hissing in pain. Shit. I brushed against the injury on his leg—that’s entirely my fault.

The mood crashes around us, with Caleb grasping the edge of the island to regain control of himself. After a moment, he goes across the room and picks up his wallet off the counter. Out of it he takes a handful of bills, and it’s only when he comes back to me that I see that they’re hundreds.

“Go buy a dress. Tomorrow is your wedding day,” he says roughly, voice not at all matching the kiss that we shared. This moment highlights the stark reality of what we’re doing. Chemistry is one thing, and we have that in buckets. It’s packed with tons of TNT and some fireworks on the side. But this is still a business arrangement. Playacting. We each have a role to play, and an exchange of payments.

I accept his money.

“Don’t …” I swallow. “Don’t do any more demolition without me. Please.”

He looks at me, and there’s no trace of a smile as he glances at his leg. “As if I could.”

I can’t fight the wince. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

As I walk out the front door, I can feel his eyes on my back. Just like I can still feel his hands on my waist, still hear his groans as he came, and still taste the aftermath of his pleasure.

This is far more complicated than either one of us is going to admit. But it’s too late to turn back now.6CalebStanding in front of the mirror, I pat down my lapels and smoothe out my hair once more. I didn’t rent a tux for the occasion of my marriage, but I’m still trying to look the part. A nice dark suit and crisp white shirt. Downstairs my lawyer is waiting with all the necessary paperwork, and I hired a photographer to memorialize the occasion, even if it is just a show. I persuaded my best friend to join us today, and he literally flew in for twenty-fours to add a realistic flavor to this thing and to serve as our witness. I found a justice of the peace who charges by the hour and he should be here any minute. Then the only person we need is Ally.

I’ve got a surprising amount of anxiety bouncing around in my gut for what is going to ultimately be a fake marriage. But I’ll shake it off. Who wouldn’t feel a little odd in a situation like this? Looking around my sparsely decorated bedroom, I feel like a stranger in my own life. I’m in a house that’s not really my home, and soon enough, I won’t even be the owner of this house. Everything around me feels temporary, including the woman I’m about to call my wife. Will Ally want to share this bedroom with me for the month that we’re together? The part of me that wants to have her over and over again wants that. But I also know that while sex isn’t off the table for us, it might be easier to keep things as separate as possible so that when the time comes, like Ally said, there’s no entanglements.

Trevor knocks lightly on the door before walking into my room.

“How are you doing?” Trevor asks.

“I’m fine.”

A smirk. “Then why do you look like you’re about to throw up?”

“I don’t, you asshole,” I say, rolling my eyes. “But thank you for coming in for this.”

“My pleasure,” he says. “I’m amazed you found someone that would actually agree to this, but I’m glad. And I hope it works to get your family’s heads out of their asses.”

“That’s the plan.”

It’s simple, really. I’ll take Ally to meet my parents, we’ll charm them, and then I’ll have them sign over my inheritance to me before we leave the Hamptons. Once we’re back in Nashville, I’ll make sure all the accounts are exclusively in my name before I finalize the divorce for Ally and me. They’ll be pissed when they figure out what I did, but no more than they’ve already been at me. I truly wish there was another way to convince my family to release my trust fund without deceiving them, but they’ve been pretty adamant on this point. And I’m just as adamant that I’m not ready to settle down.