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"Cousin? Wait! You're actually counting down?" I ask once his words sink in.
"If you don't think I'm coming for you the second I can, you've got another thing coming, tigress."
"What am I supposed to do until then?" I ask.
"Wait for me," he says.
"Wait for you? Wait for you?" I yell, throwing my hands up in the air. I didn't know I could be this passionate about something, but he brings out a side of me I didn't know was there. "How the fuck do you expect me to do that knowing you're out there sticking your dick in whoever you want?" I have to get out of here. I feel like the room is closing on me. Just the thought of him with another woman is enough to make me lose my dinner. I don’t understand my feeling for this man yet; I just know they are there, and that they are intense.
"Listen to me, Gwenna. This might be the wrong thing to say to you right now, but you need to hear it. Hear me. My dick hasn't been inside of anyone. Ever. When I was a teenager I made the conscious decision to wait for my wife as I hope she would have done. In case you didn't get the fucking memo last night, that's you. And watch your mouth, no wife of mine is going to talk like a drunken sailor."
"Then maybe you should look for another wife," I shout louder than I ever have before. It doesn't make any sense that this thirty-year-old, gorgeous, gorgeous man isn't out there fucking everything that moves.
"You didn't save yourself?" he asks, taken aback. "Never mind. Don't answer that. I have no business asking you a question like that. Not now." He runs his hands through his hair, pulling at the ends in clear frustration.
"Oh my God. Of course, I did. I thought you meant the cursing… No one tells me what to say or do, but I definitely saved myself for my husband," I say, a little bit of my anger leaving me. He looks me up and down. His mouth opens, then snaps shut. He looks like a fish out of water.
"You've got to be kidding me. Please don't test my fucking patience right now. I'm not above chaining you up in my basement until I can claim you."
"Ooh, kinky. If you're gonna commit one crime you might as well commit the other. The one we both want you to commit," I say, moving closer to him. I stop mere inches from him. He sucks in a deep breath and exhales it slowly. His breath hits my neck, and I can’t help moaning.
"What the hell is wrong with you? You can’t make sounds like that. Fuck. Can't you see that I'm hanging on by a thread here?" he shouts.
"Yes. I can," I shout back at him. “Why do you think I'm trying to unravel that thread?" I'm going to lose my mind if he doesn't kiss me. I know he can't and won't, but that doesn't make me want him or need him any less.
"I have to go now, right the fuck now, before I do something I can't take back. Remember what I said, Gwen. Ninety-one days." He briefly touches my hand, and then he's gone. The tears that threatened to fall the whole time we were arguing finally break with a loud, wretched sob. Burying my head in my hands, I realize I'm full-on Jane Austen crying in a coat closet. How Georgian of me.
"Don't cry, tigress. I'm sorry it has to be this way. You'll be in my arms soon enough, I swear," Wes says, jarring me from thoughts of despair. I drop my hands and look up, meeting his concerned gaze.
"You're back," I say dumbly. Rocket scientist, I am not. Hell, I can't even walk and chew gum at the same time.
"Yeah. I forgot my coat," he says, chuckling. The deep rumble washes over me.
"I can see how that happened," I say, offering him a watery smile.
"Besides, I could hear you crying, and it kills me, so stop, okay?
"Okay," I say, sniffling.
"Goodnight, tigress."
"Goodnight, Wesley." He growls, making me grin, and then he's gone again. Why does his leaving make me so sad? Does love do this to a person? Can a person fall in love in one night? Is this just lust? I wipe my face and come away with mascara all over them. Of course, he just had to see me looking like a raccoon.
Okay. Ninety-one days. I can do this. I can wait ninety-one days for that man, but I can't help wondering what exactly is going to happen when the waiting is over.
Chapter Two
WESTMEATH RICHARDS
Leaving her was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. She's everything to me, and it happened in such a short amount of time that my head and heart are still spinning.
She's like fire exposed to oxygen. Hot and bright. I don't know why it happened, but it did happen. I can't wait to explore her. I can't explain the hold she has on me. When I first saw her sitting next to my sister last night at the rehearsal dinner, I knew she was mine. Knew it in my very soul. Kylie introduced us; naturally, our hands touched when we shook hands. That polite shake meant so much more than the usual nice to meet you bullshit. Bolt after bolt of electricity hit every nerve in my body, beginning where we were linked. She's gorgeous. Thick, curvy, short, wild curly brown hair, pale blue eyes, creamy porcelain skin. I've memorized every inch of her I could see.
My depraved imagination filled in what I couldn't. When I found out how old she was, I almost didn't care. Almost. The thing that held me back wasn't the law; though I've sworn to uphold it, it was her. She needs to be able to make the decision to be mine free and clear.
My ninety-one days of torture begin now; I do the only thing that I can, bury myself in work. Fortunately, or rather unfortunately, there's no shortage of crime in Boston.
"Richards!" Captain Decker yells from his office.
