Marry Me Now: An Arranged Marriage Collection

Then I had to ask about her favorite movies, and what she thought about the cars, and if she’s changed her mind at all on the whole business aspect of our business arrangement. The last one, I’ll admit, I asked during a moment of weakness late on night, after far too many replays danced through my head of her legs under that tight dress she wore to her first day, and the faint little sigh she let out when our lips parted from our kiss.

I couldn’t help imagining everything else I wanted to do to her in that car. How I wanted to drag her into the backseat and peel that dress off, and cover her with something far more appealing—my mouth. I’d lick and suck my way down to her breasts, cup them one after the other, all while I parted her thighs with my hand and made sure she was wet and ready to drive my thick cock next…

I’m getting hard against just thinking about it, and I have to shut my eyes and lean back in my desk chair and take a few deep, steadying breaths.

That’s when there’s a knock at my door, of course. My eyes snap open, and I find Dee there in the doorway, head tilted in confusion as she watches me.

“Um, you asked me to meet you here…” she says.

“In half an hour.” I dart a glance at the clock. No, I’m not mistaken. She’s just early.

Her cheeks flush. “Greg suggested I come early, in case…” She trails off, then, and glances out the open door, back toward the hallway. “Um, should I?”

I nod, and she steps inside, and the air in my office seems to warm by at least fifteen degrees. She’s wearing a much cuter dress today than her interview outfit, a clingy little sundress that reveals the enticing slope of her neck, the curve of her bare shoulders, and more than enough hints to guess at the perfect, perky size of her breasts beneath all that cleavage.

She perches on the edge of the chair on the other side of my desk, like she’s nervous to relax her muscles, let her guard down at all. I know the feeling. She makes me feel the same way.

“Uh, Greg suggested if I came by sooner, more people might see us talking, or waiting for the car out front. You know, to maximize, um, visibility.”

“I see.” I stand and step around to the closer side of the desk. From here, I catch the delicate scent of her perfume, mingled with the sweeter, headier scent underneath, the one that’s all her. “Good suggestion. So why are we closed in my office?” I arch a brow, a smirk dancing at the edges of my lips.

I don’t miss the way her breath catches, or the way her gaze dips to my chest, down past my abs, to the V of my groin. Then her eyes jump back to my face, her cheeks redder than ever. God, she’s sexy when she’s blushing. “Right. Yeah. Sorry. Of course.” She shoves to her feet. “I just thought we should…”

I reach up to catch the same stray strand of hair that escaped her messy bun last time, and tuck it behind her ear, making sure to let my fingertip graze her earlobe, ever so slightly. I notice the way she shivers, mouth parted in an almost inaudible sigh. “You thought we should catch up in private first?” I ask, eyes alight with mischief. “Maybe take up where we left off last time, and make sure our chemistry is believable?”

“Let’s save the chemistry for when we have an audience,” she replies, and with that, she sidesteps me, and reaches for the door handle.

Together we step back out into the lobby, and the moment we do, I catch her hand. She tenses for a moment, like she’s startled, and then relaxes into it, even curls her fingers through mine for an added touch.

Even just this faint touch of her soft skin is enough to drive me wild. Because I can imagine holding this hand above her head. Pinning her in place with one hand while I cup my other around her cheek, pull her in for a long, deep kiss; the kind of kiss that leads to my hand sliding under that dress of hers, and her undoing the button of my jeans…

I need to stop this train of thought before I make it difficult to walk around the office.

“So, I packed the things you suggested,” she says, her voice forcefully light. “Bathing suit, a nice dress. Any hints about where we’re going yet?”

I smirk. “Don’t worry, it’s not in the middle of nowhere.”

She half-smiles. “Okay, so one point in the not-murdery sounding direction. Any other details you’d care to share?”

“It’s one of my favorite places in the world.”

“Really? Why’s that, do you enjoy sneaking off there with all of your fake wives?”

She asks the last question a little too loudly, and I elbow her, even though so far it’s just us striding across the lobby and Caroline, our receptionist, in the distance eying our clasped hands with what I figure is more interest than usual. Good. If anyone’s going to immediately tell the rest of the office about what she just saw, it’s Caroline. She’s a little bit over-the-top, and a little bit still pissed at me for the drunken one-night stand we had years ago, but hey, sometimes that gossipy mouth of hers can work in your favor.

I turn away, back to Dee and her question. “Because I used to go there as a kid,” I say, surprising myself. “With my parents, back before Dad took over the company and started his now crazy work schedule.”

Her eyebrows rise. “You and your father are close?”

“Of course.” I frown at her sideways.

She lowers her eyes, a little embarrassed. “I just sort of assumed that, I mean, given the nature of this whole thing…” She squeezes my hand. “That you were being like, forced into something you didn’t want.”

“I’d say coerced more than forced,” I reply. “And you can care about family without agreeing to their every demand, no?”

She laughs a little at that. “I suppose.” Her expression turns wistful, and I remember what she told me last time about driving cars in the countryside with her father.

“What about you?” I ask. “Are you close to your family?”

“I was.” Her expression darkens, like a cloud, and I regret asking. The last thing I want to do is cause her pain. “My parents both passed away.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that.” I stop walking.

So does she. She stares at her feet instead, and breathes in deep. “I just…” She blinks a couple of times and then forces a big smile. “Sometimes I just miss having them around, you know? But I’m doing well now. Just… You know, something like that, it makes you realize how important every day is. Live life to the fullest, and all that.” She flashes me a grin. “And never take for granted the time you do have with your family, even if they annoy the hell out of you.”

“Amen to that.” I tug her closer to me, and we start to walk again, our arms brushing. I can’t stop thinking about her smile, though. How bravely she goes through the world after something as devastating as her parents’ loss must have been.

I realize I’m watching her from the corner of my eye, checking to see if she’s okay, but she’s doing better than I am, staring through the front windows with widening eyes.

“Oh my God,” she says, interrupting my reverie on the importance of love and the pain of loss. “Is that a first-generation Andromeda?” Her voice shoots up an octave.

I laugh. “My father’s car,” I say. “I asked to borrow it for this trip.”

“We get to ride in it?”

No need to worry about how we’re going to attract enough attention to get noticed. Every eye in the building swivels in our direction now as her voice echoes in the lobby. And then she’s dropping my hand and peeling straight for the sliding glass doors to ogle the car. Which, I have to admit, with its cherry red paint and sleek design, is more than enough to distract anyone who’s into this sort of thing.

Watching her geek out, though, is doing funny things to my head. Funny things like making me imagine what she’d do if I caught her mid-step and swung her onto the hood of this car, then wrapped those lithe, strong legs of hers around my waist and pulled her tight, curvy body against mine.

Dee circles the car, and I follow her, trying not to focus too hard on the way her ass moves in that slim-fitting dress. Or how

much better she’d look without that dress on at all…

“Is this original?” she calls, pointing out some of the features the Andromeda is known for.

I nod, and grin at her wide-eyed gasp of appreciation. “You know, not many people would get this excited over a car.”

“Not many people have ever gotten to ride in a car like this one,” she counters, and with that, she reaches down to lift her suitcase into the backseat, since the convertible top is already down.

“Oh no.” I step around the car and grab the bag from her before she gets it higher than waist-height. “That’s not your job.”

“Going to do all my heavy lifting for me this trip too?” Her eyebrows rise. “What a gentleman.”