Chapter 8

chapter

eight

Greyson

By the time we get her stuff unloaded into my cabin and get Papaya settled, I'm ready to bend my wife over any surface and sink inside of her. Instead, I grab on to the top of the doorframe and lean into my bedroom. She's currently moving some of her clothes into the half of the dresser that I already wasn't using.

What self-respecting man needs an entire chest of drawers to put his basics in?

"I hope you weren't counting on having a lot of space to yourself," I say from the doorway.

She glances over her shoulder and her mouth drops open. "Are you legitimately doing the book boyfriend door lean right now?"

"Am I doing what?" I ask.

"Right, you're not on social media, are you?"

"I created an account a while back to give Cain some shit about his whole Shirtless Lumbersnack or whatever the fuck his handle is. But honestly, I lost interest."

She opens her mouth, then closes it, frowns, then shakes her head. "Yeah, we're going to have to circle back to that." She shoves the drawer closed with a foot and then walks towards me.

"Tell me again what you think I'm doing here." I tap the doorframe above my head.

"You mentioned you're in a book club and pantaloons? Does your book club only read historical romances?"

"Technically we read whatever the ladies are reading." I roll my eyes. "Fuck if I know. Landry started it when Brook joined the book club because she read a book, and it reminded her of him." I shudder. "I skipped that one. In any case, the answer is, yes, the guys and I are all hooked on damn romance novels. But I guess I missed the lesson on book boyfriends."

She raises her hands and puts them on my torso. "The way you're standing right now, with your arms up like that and the leaning in you keep doing. That is the iconic doorframe book boyfriend lean. It's super sexy."

"You think I'm sexy?"

She rolls her eyes. "Don't fish for compliments."

I shove myself off the door and crowd into her, walking her backwards until the backs of her knees hit the bed.

"Do you want to know the real reason I didn't fuck you last night and then again this morning?" I ask.

Her pupils darken, widen. She doesn't say anything, but she nods.

I grab her hips, squeezing her rounded curves. "Yes, I was so turned on this morning that I didn't want to come too fast. But mostly, I wanted to wait until we were here. I want to slide inside of you for the first time in that bed."

"What's so magical about that bed?" she asks.

I run my nose up her throat. "That's our marriage bed, wife. Where we'll spend hours exploring all the ways to wring pleasure out of each other. Where we'll conceive our babies. That's what's so special about it."

I lick and nibble across her neck, then pause to pull off her shirt.

"Thank you for not cutting that one off. I'm rather fond of that shirt." She loops her arms around my neck. "Maybe we could consider getting a step stool so I can kiss you easier."

I lift her and put her on the bed. "On your knees, darlin', then you should be able to reach me just fine." She leans up on her knees and it does put us closer to eye-to-eye from this level.

"Hot sex with my hot for-now husband. This is going to be the best fake marriage ever."

I'm in the process of removing her bra when her words penetrate my lust-addled brain. "‘For-now and fake,' you've used those terms a couple of times. What exactly do you mean by that?" I draw the straps of her bra off her arms and let the garment fall to the bed.

She moans when I cup her tits. "Just what it sounds like. I guess we never talked about the details since you were my stand-in groom."

"Right, after Devon, the man you didn't love, didn't show up." My voice is tightening and I'm trying to not get angry considering I've got her on my bed and she's half naked.

"It's mine and Lizzie's inheritance. Or what should be. It's not really anything I want or need. But I want it for Bennett and Lydia. They deserve to have what mine and Lizzie's dad left for us."

"If he left it to his kids, your grandmother can't take it from you," I say.

"Well, he was in the process of drawing up a will, so his attorney knows what his wishes were, but he died before he could finish and sign anything. So it all reverted to her. She's been holding it above our heads for years. Finally, she stipulated that if one of us got married, she'd release the funds into a trust."

"What about Lizzie's ex? They weren't married?"

"No, thank God. But he's been in and out of the picture for a few years. Hopefully now he's gone for good. But that left me to be the one to get married."

"And you asked some fucker named Devon to be your temporary husband instead of your old pal, Greyson? Is that what I'm hearing right now?"

"I didn't want to inconvenience you. I knew you'd say yes. You would do anything for me. Like driving to Corpus Christie to watch me marry someone else and then take his place. You are the very best man, Grey. I couldn't ask you, until I had to."

"And now you think that the plan you had with that fuckface will hold up with me? Darlin', I don't know what kind of man he is, but that's not how I roll."

"I know. I should have explained all of this before we said vows, but there wasn't a lot of time." Her arms come up around my neck again. "But now you know. We can stay married for as long as you want once the inheritance pays."

"And this is why your grandmother is filing a petition for an annulment. It's all making sense now, Annabelle." I step away from her, rake my fingers through my hair. "Goddamn it."

"Let's not fight right now," she says. "Let's do the things you planned." She pats the mattress. "Remember? Marriage bed?"

I release a laugh that sounds more like a growl. "Let me ask you this, wife . Was the man who married us a legitimate minister?"

"He was. The Montgomery has a handful of ordained ministers available for their weddings."

"And that marriage certificate that we signed, that was legal as well?" I ask.

"Yes."

"And yet, you still claim this marriage to be fake and temporary, correct?"

"Greyson, I don't want to fight about this right now."

"Oh, but I very much do want to fight about it."

"Really, you want to fight about the state of our union more than you want to fuck me in your bed?"

I step away from her so I can't touch her perfect tits and the rest of her curves. "There are some fundamental truths you need to understand. First, this is a real marriage. End of story, no qualifications, no stipulations, just you and me, husband and wife."

She sits down on the bed and watches me pace.

"Second, there will be no annulment and no divorce. I don't care what plan you had with Devon. This is me and you. We made a pact when we were teenagers, and I'm sticking with that. You asked me to marry you, I married you. Now you are stuck with me as your husband. I'll try to keep my beard hairs out of the sink."

She folds her lips in, trying not to smile.

"Third, we will be having sex in that bed. Often."

"Finally!"

"But not until you agree to these truths."

"Are you legitimately withholding sex right now?"

I cross my arms over my chest. "Damn straight I am."

She raises her brows. "That's very Greek tragedy of you."

"Technically, Lysistrata was a Greek comedy."

She throws her arms up in the air. "Stop being so sexy!"

That makes me laugh. "I'm serious, darlin'. I want you; do not mistake that. But I will not be a temporary solution for you, no matter how altruistic your motives. I am in this marriage, for better or worse. Remember those vows?"

"Yes, I remember the vows. But?—"

I put a finger to her lips. "You ready to be all-in with me?"

"I can't, Grey."

I want more information. I want to know why she refuses to commit to me. But I won't ask. I'm too damn nervous about her answer. So, I simply nod. "Let me know when you're ready."