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I don’t bother pulling my pants on before moving through the apartment where I find Isla standing in the kitchen, her robe around her, and a flannel in one of her hands.
“What you got there, spitfire?” I ask, leaning against the doorframe.
Her startled eyes meet mine like a deer in headlights before the defiance inches into its place. “I’m cleaning up the mess you made,” she snaps. “That can’t happen again, Doc.”
I chuckle and prowl toward her, but she’s frozen in place, her gaze darting between my very hard cock and my eyes. I like her like this. Off kilter. Out of her depth. It’s intoxicating.
It’s not until I round the counter that she finally steps back, aware of the predator getting closer by the second. But it’s too late. I eat up the distance between us, plucking her body off the ground and depositing her on the bench.
I step between her parted thighs before she has time to register what a vulnerable position I’ve got her in without her having a chance to fight me.
“You seem to be under the misconception that you’re calling the shots here, spitfire. But you’re not. From now on, you will do what you’re told, when you’re told, or you’ll find yourself edged and left wanting every day until you can behave.”
Her eyes widen and her lips pop open into an “o” that makes me want to sink my cock between the plush pillows and lose myself in the heat of her mouth. “I know I messed up last night. I get it. But that doesn’t change anything between us.” She drops her gaze to her hands wedged between us. “You don’t need to pretend this marriage is real. I know it’s only until Spade loses interest in me and then you’ll be free to get back to your life.”
I stare at her for a few blinks, processing the words that have just come out of her mouth. I tip her chin up until she’s forced to meet my eyes. “I’m not pretending anything, spitfire. I’m just waiting for you to get on the same page as me.”
Before she can say a word, I pluck the towel from her hands and step back slightly, wiping away the mess I made across her silky skin away. The need to mark her again overwhelms me the second she’s clean, but I fight the urge. She’s still getting on the page with me, and marking my territory like a dog on a fire hydrant isn’t going to win me any favors.
She still thinks this marriage is a sham, but that’s not even close to being the case. Not anymore. And even thoughit goes against my very nature, I need to be patient until she understands that I’m all in.
Isla fell asleep on the couch not long after breakfast, and I’ve been watching her sleep ever since.
Creepy? Perhaps. But I can’t drag my eyes off her.
She’s beautiful when she sleeps. It’s the only time she seems truly at peace, and I’m addicted to watching her.
The sound of vibrations pulls my attention from my spitfire, and I spot her purse on the entry table where I dumped it last night.
With a quick glance at Isla, I move toward the bag and waste no time pulling her phone from its place to find three messages from her friend, Bella.
Bella: Are you alive?
Bella: Did that guy kill you? I swear he better not have. He had a photo of you and him on what appeared to be your wedding day. Also, why the hell didn’t you tell me you were married to the world’s hottest daddy of a man? Holding out on me is not very nice *side eye emoji*
Bella: It’s been 12 hours and I’m officially freaking out. If I don’t hear from you in the next half hour, I’m going to have to hunt your so-called husband down.
I shake my head and chuckle to myself. I don’t like many people, certainly not when I first meet them, but I like this girl.
As I turn back to the couch, preparing myself to wake Isla so she can put her friend’s mind at ease, I knock the bag off the table, the contents spilling across the tiles.
I crouch down with a sigh and start gathering the shit that’s fallen out until my fingers wrap around a packet of pills.
Birth control pills.
My gaze darts back to the couch to make sure Isla is still asleep before I quickly pocket the pills. There’s a possessive need to own her in every way possible, including planting a baby in her. Maybe then she’ll accept that we’re really married and there’s nothing that’s going to change that.
By the time I make it back to where Isla is bundled up in a throw rug, her eyes are drifting open, and a small smile tugs at her lips.
“You need to message Bella before she gives herself a heart attack.” I chuckle and hand her the phone, which she takes with a gentle laugh.
She reads over the messages and quickly types out a response before putting the phone down on the cushion beside her. Her lip disappears between her teeth, and it’s obvious she wants to say something, but I wait patiently, not pressing her to hurry.
“How did you find me last night?” She finally asks the question I’ve been waiting for since she first woke up. Admittedly, it took longer for her to ask than I thought it would.
“There’s a tracker on your phone.”
Her eyes widen to the point it’s almost comical before they dart to the device beside her. She opens her mouth a few times to say something but quickly snaps it shut again each time as she struggles to find a response. “Are you fucking insane?” she finally asks.
