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Does that mean she’s a virgin? The thought just fuels my excitement even more.
I move my fingers lower until they reach the zipper at the back of her gown. I start to pull it down. I know she’s scared, but I’m her husband now. And I’ve been waiting for too damn long.
Aster places her hands on my chest. “Mason, please.”
The plea, both in her voice and in her eyes, makes me stop. I swallow and step back.
I want her. More than anything in the world. And yes, she is my wife. But I’m not going to force myself on her.
“You shouldn’t have a hard time taking off your dress now,” I tell her.
She wraps an arm around her chest and nods. She doesn’t say a word, though, and she won’t even look at me anymore.
I frown. I don’t know what’s worse, the fact that Aster doesn’t want to have sex with me or the fact that I nearly forced myself on my own wife. They’re both frustrating as hell.
Some wedding night this is turning out to be. And so much for ironing out bumps in the road, though the no sex rule can hardly be called a bump. It’s a fucking stop sign.
“I suggest you change downstairs in Giselle’s room,” I say as I move away and turn my back on her. “You might want to sleep there, too. That way, I won’t be tempted to lay a finger on you.”
If she doesn’t want any intimacy from me, we might as well sleep in separate rooms. It’s less of a torture that way. Especially for me.
“Mason…” I hear the concern in Aster’s voice. Or is it pity?
“Plus her bed should be softer,” I say as I unbutton my jacket. “You could use a soft bed after a long day, right?”
She doesn’t answer.
“You should go,” I urge her. “We leave for DC early tomorrow.”
Aster gives me a puzzled look. “DC?”
“Yeah.” I shrug off my jacket. “It’s where I live and work. I thought you knew that.”
“I do, but I live and work here.”
I sigh. I should have known she’d fight me on this, too.
“You work on your computer,” I say as I turn to face her. “And you no longer live here. You’re my wife, so you’ll be living with me.”
“But…”
“Do you really want to have to explain to your dad why you and your husband are living apart even though you just got married?”
She rubs her arm. “Maybe you can come here after work? DC is less than an hour away.”
“I don’t have time for that,” I tell her.
And I’m not going to give in on this.
“You and I will be living in my apartment in DC.”
We may not be staying in the same room, but by God, she will stay under the same roof as me.
Aster shakes her head stubbornly. “But my dad…”
“Will live with us,” I tell her. “I already talked to him about it and he agreed.”
Aster’s eyes grow wide. She crosses her arms over her chest.
“Wow. You two really get along well, don’t you? You know what? Maybe the two of you should just live together.”
“Aster.” I give her a warning look.
Testing the limits of my patience right now is not a good idea.
“And what about the dogs, hmm?” Aster asks. “We’re bringing them, too?”
“Of course.”
“I see. You talked to them and they agreed to come, too, did they?”
“Of course. How could they say no after the toys I gave them?”
She’s not the only one who can make a craft out of sarcasm.
“Ha,” Aster says. “I knew they were bribes.”
“Right. You married a man without an ounce of honor.” I walk to the bathroom. “But you’re still coming to DC.”
Conversation over.
Chapter Nine ~ What I Married Into
Aster
I’ve been to Washington, DC, countless times. My father took me there to tour the White House shortly after my mother died. Over the following years, we’d go there regularly to visit the museums and eat half-smoke sausages and chili burgers. When I was in college, I would sometimes go there alone to sketch on a bench at the National Mall, sometimes with my friends to eat Ethiopian food, which I got hooked on, and occasionally grab a drink. I think the people are too serious, but I don’t mind the place.
Still, I can’t believe I’ll be living in the national capital from now on.
I can’t even believe I’m riding a helicopter right now.
As it makes its descent to the top of a building, I hold my breath. The vehicle moves from side to side and rocks back and forth against the wind. The rotors outside are so loud that I can’t think of anything but the fear of crashing. I should never have agreed to this.
Finally, I feel the helicopter’s feet scrape against concrete. I grab my seat and feel a bump as it lands. Then it stops. I let out the breath that’s been stuck in my throat but I don’t give a sigh of relief just yet.
