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She walks to the bed and runs her fingers over the sheets. She touches a pillow, staring at the shape of it, lingering on the nightstand. It’s empty now, since I cleared it out in anticipation of her coming here.

“How’s this going to work?” she asks, her back to me, which I don’t mind. She’s got a lovely spine. A long neck, gorgeous curves. It takes a lot of effort to control myself, knowing that she’s probably not wearing underwear beneath that dress.

“Most people get under the sheets, but you can do it however you want.”

She glares over her shoulder at me. “You’re not funny.”

“Never said I was.” I lift the brandy to my lips.

“I mean, where’s my room? This house is huge. I assume you have space for me.”

I let the question linger a moment. I have an answer for her, but she won’t like it, and I’m tired. It’s been a long day. Only I have one last fight ahead of me.

Maybe the most consequential of my life.

“You’re staying in here with me.”

Her brows knit down. “That’s not funny. Seriously, I saw like ten guest rooms⁠—”

“Come here. Let me help you out of that dress.”

Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. I stifle a smirk. That was the desired response. “Excuse me?”

“I have clothes for you.” I nudge open the closet with my toe. “Sweats in here. You need me to unzip you though.”

“Nobody’s unzipping anybody,” she says. “And you’re not answering my question.”

“I’m purposefully avoiding it.” I step into the closet and come back out with a matching set of navy silk top and bottoms. “Olivia von Halle. I’m told they’re nice. At least Lia whined when I told her I bought you some and begged me to buy her a pair too.”

She tugs at her hair. “Give them to your sister then. Aren’t those sets like a thousand bucks?”

“Something like that.” I stalk over to her. “You’re uncomfortable. Get changed and we’ll negotiate.”

“Hold on, negotiate?”

“I’m not trying to be a dick, Mari. Let me unzip you—” I pull her close. She lets out a huff of surprise as my fingers move across her hips, looking for the seams, but only finding curves.

She smells good. Fuck, she smells like heaven. I’ve been thinking about her taste all night, the minty deliciousness of her soft lips. I only kissed her for the briefest second because if I let it linger too long I swear I wouldn’t have been able to stop.

“I don’t need help.” She wriggles against me, which only makes it worse. I feel myself stiffening, excitement ringing in my core.

“Here—” I find the zipper and tug at it.

All at once, the front sags. She sucks in a breath as I catch a glimpse of her skin, her smooth breasts, her pink nipples, before she presses a hand to her chest to keep her clothes in place.

“Jesus, asshole.” She elbows me aside, grabs the pajamas, and disappears into the bathroom.

Well, fuck.

That’s not how I wanted to start our marriage.

My blood’s slamming in my chest. I throw back my drink to calm myself but it doesn’t help. The memory of Mari’s body under mine, her gasps and moans as she writhed and arched into me, the needy groans and sweet begging for more as she came on my big dick⁠—

I’m so goddamn hard when she steps back out looking like sin. The silk pajama set is perfect on her, accentuating her curves, and it’s not fucking fair. Her nipples are stiff under her top, driving me crazy.

I sit by the fireplace on the couch and force myself to breathe.

“Want to explain why you manhandled me? And why you think we’re sharing a bedroom?”