79

Allison
Gregory comes out wearing only his slacks, his chest still damp, a towel around his shoulders. He’s drying his hair and stops short when he spots me sitting on the bed, my legs crossed, the ruin of my wedding dress hiked so far up it’s almost scandalous.
I like the hunger in his eyes. Even if I don’t like him.
“I want to make a deal,” I say, letting him stare. Two can play his game. If he wants to prance around using sex against me, I’ll do the same thing. I shift slowly, letting him catch a glimpse of my ass, before recrossing my legs. He reacts slightly, eyes flicking to my skin. His tongue wets his lips.
He tilts his head. “Now you’re thinking rationally.”
“You’re right. I don’t have any other choice. I can either play ball with you or I can let Paul and my father screw me over. And I am not about to let them murder my sister and get away with it.”
“What sort of deal do you want to make?” He grips either end of the towel, leaving it around his shoulders. His biceps and forearms bulge, surprisingly erotic.
Get it together, Allison. I’m supposed to be the one distracting him with my body, not the other way around.
But the man’s a specimen. It’s honestly not fair. It’s obscene, the way he looks without a shirt, and I’m salivating at the idea of seeing him in nothing at all.
I clear my throat, sitting up straight, pressing my breasts out. A little gratified thrill hits my belly when his eyes flick to my chest.
“First, I want you to swear we’ll get revenge for my sister,” I say firmly.
“Easy. Done.”
“I want revenge against Paul and against my father.”
He hesitates. Head tilts to the side. “Your father?”
“It was his idea for Freya to marry Paul. Now he refuses to admit that Paul’s the one who killed her. But worst of all, he threatened to murder me if I didn’t go along with what he wants. I want to hurt him for that.”
Gregory nods slowly. His expression darkens. “You’re right. I want to hurt him for that, too.”
I shift myself again, surprised by his reaction. Does Gregory actually give a shit about me? But no, this is all part of his game.
I adjust my legs, letting him look.
I should be ashamed of using my body like this, but I’m tired of playing nice. I’m not the type of person to roll over and do nothing. I have to take a little charge and fight back.
“Next, if we’re married, I want money.” I pause here, letting it sink in. “Lots of money.”
Might as well be smart about this if I’m selling myself anyway. I don’t feel good, asking for cash straight out like that, but I need to start making long-term plans.
His eyebrows raise. “As the wife of a Callahan, you’ll have whatever you want.”
“No, not only as your wife. I want a guarantee that if and when our marriage ends, you will provide for me for the rest of my life. If I do this, it’s one and done, and I never have to worry about anything again. Understand me?”
“That’s very smart,” he says, nodding slowly. “We can do that.”
“I want it in writing. I want a contract. I want it branded onto your lower back.”
“I’ll call my lawyer and my brander.”
“I can’t tell if you’re joking, but that’s exactly what I want you to do. Well, minus the actual brand. We’ll stick to legally binding paper and avoid physical mutilation.”
“Your loss,” he says, releases the towel, and tosses it aside. The man’s a specimen, and he walks toward me, stalking like a lion on the prowl. I shiver, suddenly worried that I’m in way over my head, like a toddler lighting matches next to a can of gasoline. “We’ll agree on a reasonable monthly allowance in perpetuity, regardless of your marital status as a Callahan. That way, if and when we divorce, you won’t have to worry.”
“No. Lump sum.”
“You’ll waste it all on something foolish. Like a timeshare.”
“I’m not a beach girl.”
“There are mountain timeshares.”
“I want it straight up, in cash.”
He sighs, but gestures asset with one hand. “We’ll set up a trust then, but I won’t have you make stupid financial decisions.”
“When I’m not longer your wife, I can do whatever I damn well please with my money.”
“We’ll see. You might miss being mine at the end.”
I lick my lips, nodding slightly. He’s getting close, too close, and it forces me to back away from him, shimmying onto the bed.
He puts one knee up where my crotch was only seconds earlier.
“I want, um-” I suddenly can’t think straight, thinking about his thigh between my own. Thinking about wanting him, even after all this is over. Thinking about what he might do to make me feel that way.
“Yes?” He tilts his head.
My mouth waters as I stare at his shoulders. “I want safety. I have, uh, friends-”
“Paul won’t hurt anyone you care about. You have my word. Give me a list of names, and I’ll provide protection for them.”
“Right.” I lick my lips again. “Uhm-”
“What else? I’ll give you anything you want, princess. Anything.” The emphasis on that last word is obscene. The implications make my core clench. I’m soaking wet and it’s embarrassing. He’s turning the tables on me so easily, it’s pathetic. “You seem distracted. What’s wrong?”
“You’re in bed with me.”
“Not quite.” He shifts forward, coming closer. Shirtless, dangerous. Beautiful. “Now I am.”
“Can you give me some space, please? You’re looking at me like I’m a prime rib.”
“I prefer lobster. I like to break the shells.”
“That’s just weird.”
His lips part in something resembling a smile. But it’s more like what a wolf might do, aping human behavior. “I have demands now, princess. My own conditions I expect you to obey.”
“Sorry, what now?” I shuffle back until I hit the headboard. He keeps coming. “We never said anything about obeying. This is a partnership.”
“You gave me rules to follow. Conditions to meet. I have my own needs.”
That word, needs. It drives a spike of desire between my legs. I can’t help but glance at his attractive face, his muscular body. I lick my lips again, afraid I might be drooling. “What do you want exactly?”
And give me some filthy details, dirty man.
“You. Completely. Without hesitation.”
“I don’t-” I stare at him, my mouth hanging open. What does he mean, completely, and why is he on this damn bed with me right now? It’s like the guy can read my freaking mind. “I can’t just, uh, promise we’re going to, you know-”
“Fuck?” His smirk is infuriating and attractive all at once, the arrogant prick. “If we’re going to do this, if we’re going to force my brother’s hand and drag my family into a painful conflict, what we have must seem real. Even if it’s an arrangement, anyone outside of this room has to think we’re actually together.”
“Even if I can’t stand you?” I whisper, breathing hard.
“We both know that isn’t true.”
“Except that’s the problem, you don’t know me at all.”
“Go on, fight me, argue all you want, but we both know I’m right.”
I close my mouth, glaring at him. “I don’t think I’m a good enough actress to convince anyone that I’m in love with you.”
“Nobody said anything about love. Men in my family marry for many reasons. Convenience. Obligation. Lust.”
“I’m not in lust with you either,” I blurt out, which is patently not true, and he’s got to know it by now.
I’m very much in lust with this man.
Which is sick, given the circumstances.
“All that matters is we act as though what we have is for the long run. My family cannot know that you plan on divorcing me the moment our partnership has run its course. Do you understand? It doesn’t matter if you hate me, so long as you’re not going to leave.”
I nod slowly. It makes a lot of sense. “I can do that.”
“Good. That means we do certain things.” He puts a hand on my calf, slowly moving it up to my thigh.
I let out an involuntary whimper that lights his expression like an atomic bomb.
“You shouldn’t,” I say, my lips trembling, nearly numb with tension. “I mean, what things are you talking about?”
“We’ll share a life. We’ll share a house, a bedroom, a shower, a bed. We’ll live like husband and wife.”
I close my eyes. His hand stays on my thigh only inches from my aching core. He’s kneeling over me now, blocking out the ceiling lights. When I look at him again, his face is in shadow, his mouth open, his eyes locked on mine. Shirtless, gorgeous. Muscles flexed and powerful. I think of his arms wrapped around me as he carried me from the hotel earlier today. That seems like forever ago. But I remember what those arms can do.
“You’re going to cross the line, aren’t you?” I say it in a strangled whisper. “The second you get me into your bed, you’re not going to play nice.”
“No, princess. I promise I won’t play nice.”
“I want boundaries. I want space. We pretend for everyone else, but in the privacy of our own home-”
“In the privacy of our own home, you will be mine.” The way he says it, so fierce and sure, it’s the most attractive thing I’ve ever heard. “You said yourself that you’re a bad actress. If I give you a single inch of space to fuck this up-”
I try to wriggle away, but he keeps me there, now leaning forward to pin one of my wrists up above my head. I gasp, back arching, my chest rubbing against his.
I wish I didn’t have this stupid wedding dress on still.
Though at least it’s getting some good use.
“I won’t fuck anything up, you asshole.”
“I won’t let you,” he says, his face so close to mine it’s killing me. “We’ll live as husband and wife because that’s what we’ll be. Do you understand me, princess? If you’re mine, then you’re all mine.”
“What about when this is over? You’ll let me go? I can leave you?”
He nods slowly. “You can leave me. I don’t keep what wants to be free.”
“Convenient. And what about right now? I would love to be free right now.”
“Liar.”
“Even more convenient.”
“We both know what you want.” His lips move down to my neck. I groan, biting my lip to stop another whimper, as my free hand wraps into his hair. He kisses my throat, moves up to my chin.
“This is a bad idea.” I say the words. I know they’re true. I’m not going to do anything about them.
And apparently, neither is he.
Because he pulls back slightly.
Then he presses his lips to mine and kisses me.