Without stopping to second-guess myself, I crawl onto the bed behind her, lying down on top of the sheets and wrapping my arm around her. She stiffens against me as I pull her closer.
“What are you doing?” She sniffles, lifting her head a little.
“Apologizing and comforting you.”
Her body doesn’t relax against me, but she says, “Go on. I’m listening.”
“You are right. I’m being a horrible prick and a shitty human. I’m sorry.” It takes a lot for me to say those words, but I know I’m in the wrong and there is no point in attempting a half-assed apology. “I’ve been taking all my frustration out on you when it’s really directed at my parents and your father for forcing us to do this.”
Her muscles loosen, and she turns around in my arms until she’s on her back, looking up at me.
I brush knotty hair back off her face, ashamed to discover her red-rimmed eyes and splotchy cheeks. “I hurt you, and that is unforgivable. I’m sorry.” I peer into her eyes hoping she can see how genuine I am. “For the record, you were stunning today, and I should have told you that the second your hand was placed in mine at the ceremony.”
“Do you really mean that?” she asks, twisting on her side.
“I never say things I don’t mean.”
“I’d like us to be friends, Sawyer. I’m sharing your life whether you like it or not.”
“I know, and I’d like to be friends too. I know this is as hard for you as it is for me. Actually, it’s worse for you because you’ve been uprooted from your home.” Even if it is more than time she left home. I can’t think of anyone else I know, within wealthy circles, still living under Daddy’s roof at twenty-four.
She shakes her head, inching a little closer to me. “I’m glad to be out of that prison. Living here is not unwelcome.”
I arch a brow, opening my mouth to ask her exactly what she means, when she places her slim fingers against my lips. “I don’t want to talk about my father right now.” She bites down on her lower lip, and it’s sexy. Her eyes lower to my chest, and I watch as her pupils dilate. Her chest heaves, drawing my gaze, and blood rushes to my cock when I notice her hard nipples poking through the flimsy silk material of her nightie. “I don’t want to talk at all,” she says in a breathy tone I feel all the way to my toes.
My dick hardens. From neglect or having her pressed so close to me, her arousal obvious in the extreme, I’m not sure. Maybe it’s a combination of those things. “This could be a very bad idea,” I say, nipping at her fingers as she attempts to withdraw them from my lips.
“Or a really good one.” Her fingers are on the move, trailing along the smooth lines of my jaw and down the side of my neck. “You at least owe me a kiss. It might have been fake, but it was still my wedding day. I deserve one genuine kiss.”
I think she deserves a lot more than that, but I have no clue what I’m doing, and I’m making no promises. All I know is she’s turned on, I’m turned on, and I’m tired of feeling lonely and frustrated.
Xavier has moved on with his life. It’s time I did too.
“Are you sure?” I ask, moving my hand around and up her body.
“I will take anything you’re offering, Sawyer.” She sucks in a gasp as my fingers brush the underside of her breast through her nightgown.
I thrust my erection at her as my fingers knead her breast through the silk. “It’s just sex,” I tell her because I can’t offer her anything else. “Nothing more.”
“I’m good with that,” she says, palming my hard-on through my pants.
I hiss through my teeth, enjoying the feel of her small hand on my straining cock.
“Kiss me, Sawyer. Kiss me now, please.”
“As you wish.” Clasping the back of her head, I lower my mouth and claim her lips.
14
Sydney
“Someone looks happy,” Cayenne says as I slip into the booth across from her in the little Italian place around the corner from my new home. “Did you find a new job?”
I shake my head, smiling as the waiter sets a menu and a glass of water down in front of me. “I’ve attended a few interviews, but so far, I’ve had no offers.”
“You haven’t been looking that long. Don’t worry. I’m sure something will turn up soon.” Removing the bottle of wine from the chilled bucket, she pours me a glass. “Do you even need to work now you have a rich husband?”
I haven’t told her what Sawyer confided in me about the precarious position Techxet is in; if the stock market got wind of their financial difficulties, their share price would plummet, and the value of my father’s investment would dwindle overnight. I’m not sure how wealthy Sawyer is in his own right, but he doesn’t seem too concerned about his personal financial situation. The conversations we’ve had in the week since we got married have largely been focused on getting to know one another without prying too deeply.
“You know it won’t last forever, and I want my independence,” I explain. “Besides, what the hell would I do all day if I didn’t work? Sawyer has a nice lady named Florentina who comes in twice a week to clean and do the ironing, so I’ve been twiddling my thumbs when I’m not job hunting. I would go fucking insane without something to distract me, even if it is a shitty low-paying admin job.”
“I think you should change things up. You said yourself this is the perfect opportunity. I think you should ditch the admin work you hate and look for something you would actually enjoy. And you know what you would do all day if you didn’t work.” She drills me with a knowing look. “Don’t tell me your new husband doesn’t have room for a studio? I’m sure there is some idle space in that luxury penthouse apartment I haven’t yet seen for an artist’s studio.”
“I haven’t spoken to him about my art because what’s the point? It’s not like I can get anywhere in the art world with an NYU degree in languages.”
“You won’t know if you don’t try.”
It’s not a bad suggestion, but I have long since given up on my dream, and I’m not sure I’m ready to open that box again. “I’ll think about it.” I reach over the table, squeezing her hand. “You’re a great friend, Cay. I’ll have you over one night for dinner. I promise. I’m just getting to know Sawyer now. I don’t want to spring my friends on him this early into our marriage.” Though, I am around a lot on my own at night as Sawyer works super hard and regularly works late nights.
“So, is Sawyer responsible for that smile on your face?” she inquires, waggling her brows.
The waiter returns then to take our orders, and I refrain from answering, quickly perusing the menu while Cayenne makes her choice.
After we have ordered, she pins me with one of her demanding looks. I can’t keep the smile off my face. It’s amazing how some good sex can completely alter my mood. “He is,” I admit before sipping my wine.
“Oh my God. You did the deed.” She squeals, and I almost choke on my wine.