“That’s not a thing, Amber. I’m capable of cleaning and doing laundry just the same as you are. I don’t expect you to clean up after me or wash my boxers.”
I stared into the fire to avoid eye contact, uncomfortable with him still holding my hand. “I didn’t mean those kinds of duties,” I whispered. “I meant like wifely duties,” I said, emphasizing wifely this time.
His hand squeezed mine, and he sighed. “Okay, first of all, if sex feels like a duty, you’re doing it wrong. That said, marrying me in no way enters you into a contract that requires time spent in my bed.” I nodded without saying anything because part of me wanted to spend time in his bed. A big part of me. “Unless you want to, of course.”
My head snapped to the left, and I eyed him in shock. “Do you want to?”
He rubbed the front of his shorts absently. “You have no idea how much,” he said on a moan. “But I can control myself, so you don’t have to worry about that. I’m not a teenage boy fumbling around in a cabin in the dark, desperate to get laid. I have better ways to deal with those urges now.”
I don’t know what possessed me to do it, but I stood and braced a hand on each arm of his chair, leaning down. “What if I want to worry about it?”
My lips crushed his then, and the swoop of my stomach told me I wanted to do a lot of things with this man. My heart pounded when he pulled me over onto his lap and held me tenderly, his tongue exploring mine. When it caressed the roof of my mouth, his moan filled the night sky louder than thunder.
He buried his hands in my hair and ripped his lips from mine to hold my gaze. All I saw in those eyes was desire. The firelight reflected in his green garnet globes was indicative of the fire inside him. I could feel it as I sat on his lap. I could feel every hard ridge of him.
His nose touched mine, and he stared into my eyes like they were wells without a bottom. His thumbs rubbed my temples while he took a shuddering breath after the kiss. “I swear to God, Amber Larson, all I need is thirty days to convince you that love is easy, and taking a chance on marrying me will be the best decision you’ve ever made.”
“Thirty days, eh?” I asked, my lips seeking his for another sexed-up moment of lusty desire. “You’re pretty confident, Mr. Halla.”
“That’s because we’re not that different, Miss Larson. We’ve both spent years alone yearning for the one person that we had an instant and easy connection to in this world. I found that person in the back of a cupcake van on a rainy morning a few weeks ago. She peddles bread and tarts by day, but by night, she’s the only thing I see in my dreams. This,” he whispered, pressing his hard rod into my thigh, “has never reacted this way to a woman so immediately or viscerally. You turn me on in the blink of an eye and make me harder than I’ve ever been. All I need is thirty days to teach you how to accept that as the truth.”
“A lesson from the teacher?” I asked before his lips were back on mine. He pried my mouth open with his tongue and dodged in, stroking, caressing, and thrusting in a way that said he had every intention of one day showing me his tongue wasn’t the only thing capable of those motions.
I dragged my lips away from his to suck in air and calm my pounding heart. “If you keep kissing me like that, it won’t take thirty days.”
His deep, sexy, and soulful laughter filled the night. “My secret weapon is working,” he moaned, his gaze holding mine. “You’re such a beautiful tart. My mouth waters every time you walk into the room.”
“Thank you...I think,” I said, my lips dangerously close to his again.
“That was definitely a compliment. My mouth waters just thinking about how you’d taste under my tongue. Would you melt like butter the moment my tongue touches you? Do you taste sweet? Those are all things I want to know. Those are the things I have to know,” he hissed, pressing his hardness into my hip again.
“I’ll give you your thirty days, Bishop Halla,” I whispered into the night, my heart pounding from desire and the words I was about to say. “But first, you’ll have to marry me.”
I heard his fake proposal and a real one solidify into my reality, when another moan erupted from his lips right before they slammed into mine again.
MY BEDROOM AT THE APARTMENT was emptying out. It was weird and exciting at the same time. I was moving out of my parents’ house for the first time in my life. I’m aware of how stupid that sounds, considering the circumstances, but I couldn’t help it. Watching Bishop carry my things from here to his house all day made my belly quiver with excitement. Yes, I was only moving next door. Yes, I was going to have my own bedroom and not be sleeping with that sexy hunk of a man, but none of that kept the excitement about a new adventure at bay.
I glanced around the bedroom and shuddered in a way that told me this was real. My life was changing. I was going to be a wife before I was even a girlfriend. I was also a burden to the man who was trucking around heavy boxes like they weighed nothing more than a pillow. I had to remember that. Last night, he said he’d
