He leaned down and nuzzled her neck. She clung to his arms, his muscles bunching under her fingers. “If you admit you asked me to marry you. That you wanted to marry me.”
Chapter Eight
Mike nibbled on the side of Morgan’s neck, waiting to see what she would do. Would she flip out and yell at him? Punch him? Curse him out? Probably all of the above. He tensed, waiting. Watching.
But he refused to take the blame for something that was quite obviously her idea. He wouldn’t have come up with the plan to get married. He wouldn’t have thought it was such a great fucking idea, if not for her. She’d changed everything. It was all her fault he was here with a band around his finger.
And she’d damn well admit as much before he let her go.
She’d wanted to marry him, and for some god-awful reason unknown to man, he’d said yes. Now, he was shackled to a woman he couldn’t get the hell out of his mind. He needed to run for it before she somehow convinced him to stay here with her. But first…he refused to let her write him off. She’d married him for a reason—and he’d married her for one, too.
He just didn’t know that reason yet, and he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to.
She curled her hands into fists on her thighs. “Never.”
That’s it? Just a simple word? “I won’t give you an annulment until you admit it was your idea. Until you stop blaming me for this.”
She glared up at him, somehow making it appear that she was looking down at him, instead of the other way around. “Then I guess we’ll have to live happily ever after, because I don’t believe it.”
“Fine by me.” He said it in a smug way but the idea didn’t sound too scary. His throat should have been threatening to close up on him from the mere thought, but he didn’t leave. Didn’t even want to leave. What. The. Fuck? “I could handle that.”
She pointed at him. “See? You’re the one who wants to be married to me. If you didn’t, you’d be panicking right now. Just like I am.”
“Of course I’m panicking.” He lowered himself onto her, making her lie back on the bed. She flopped down without a struggle but her eyes had all the fight in them. “I have a surefire way to forget all about that.”
“Are you still drunk?” She put her hands on his chest, holding him back. “Not happening, husband.”
Something about that word on her lips just felt right, despite the sneer in her tone. Shit. Maybe he was still drunk. It would explain why he was still here, with his wife. But he didn’t want to think about that right now.
Instead he pressed his body to hers, his cock nestled in between her legs. Reaching between their bodies, he tugged at her robe. “Liar.”
Her lips parted in surprise. “Am not!”
“Are too.” He lowered his face until their lips were a breath apart. “Tell me you asked me to marry you and I’ll leave. I’ll let you go and give you the annulment you so desperately want. But you have to say it first.”
Her nails dug into his skin, stinging. “And if I won’t?”
He nibbled on her lower lip and she whimpered. That small sound did weird things to him. Made his whole body strain for more. “Then I’m fucking my wife in my honeymoon suite in my bed until she can’t remember why she refused to admit she wanted me in the first place.”
“I’m not your wife,” she said, her voice little more than a breathy whisper. “And I refuse to say it.”
He closed his mouth over hers, his tongue immediately seeking hers. As soon as they touched, all of the stiffness left her body. Groaning, he ran his fingers up her side, ripping the robe open. She arched her back, begging him without words to take her. To make her his. She might not want to admit it out loud, but she clearly wanted to be here.
Wanted him.
He spread her robe wide. She clung to him, her eyes closed and her breathing heavy. He nibbled at her neck, then moved lower. Left a trail of kisses down her shoulder and over her breast. He didn’t stop until he took her nipple in his mouth, sucking deeply. She cried out, her nails raking over his skin. He was filled with the need to make her want him as much as he wanted her. Inside of the bedroom and out of it.
He had no intention of falling in love with her—after all, love may have worked out for Brianna and Kiersten, but it had been a disaster for his other sister and his parents—still, he knew he liked having her around. Despite himself, he liked Morgan. Liked her independence, her confidence, her commitment to her dancing, her sense of humor. And after they fixed this crapshoot of a marriage, then he wouldn’t mind seeing her again. Stupidity or not. He knew he should be seeing yellow lights right now. Maybe even red.
But to him—the world was green.
He scraped his teeth against her nipple again. “Mike,” she moaned, digging her fingers in his hair.
Desire shot through him, heating his blood, and he slid his fingers in between her legs. He cupped her mound, slipping his fingers inside of her. She was wet and ready. And, damn it, so was he. He moved his fingers inside of her, rubbing his thumb against her clit. She cried out and pumped her hips up, rotating them desperately.
Standing up, he grabbed one of the many condoms sitting on the nightstand and rolled one on. Next, he slid down her body, leaving little love nips as he went. She tasted so damn good. He’d never get enough of her. Okay, that thought may have made the light go red for a minute. But he knew what he was doing. He wasn’t going to fall for her. He knew better.
By the time he reached the top of her thigh, she cried out. Moving in a little bit, he thrust two fingers inside of her and flicked her clit with his tongue. Her muscles squeezed down on his fingers, begging for more. Looking up at her, he traced a finger over her sensitive flesh. “Say you want me.”