I’ve always hated guessing games, because the surprise is never the one I want. “Just tell me.”
The look on his face is almost pitying, as if he hears the note of tension in my voice and assumes it is spurred by fear. Pulling out a manila envelope from a drawer in the desk that I could have sworn should be locked, he makes a triumphant sound as he dumps the contents onto the battered surface of the desk.
I know this situation is rapidly spinning out of control, but it was stupid for me to worry about that. Standing awkwardly a few feet away from the fully stocked kitchen, on the floor that no longer creaks because Vin had presumptuously had it repaired, I have to admit that none of this has ever been under my control.
But I still want to hear him say it.
“What do you need my birth certificate for, Vin?”
He looks up in surprise, as if only just realizing he hadn’t bothered to answer my question the first time. His full lips turn down in a frown, preparing himself for resistance.
“We’re getting married today.”
I expect Vin to drag me to Vegas.
Just like Sin City, everything about our arrangement screams trashy and fake with a veneer of slime.
And greed.
I’ve been bought and paid for, no different than the escorts who work the clubs on the strip.
But Vin doesn’t drive us in the direction of the place where the sanctity of marriage goes to die. Instead, he takes Highway One up the coast, which gives me little idea of where we’re headed. Most of California is to the north of us.
Even though it was still dark outside when he woke me up, it isn’t as early in the morning as I originally thought. Predawn light has escaped over the horizon, casting the sky in pretty pinks and blues that blend with the receding darkness like a painting done in ombre.
I could almost enjoy it if I weren’t terrified.
The first time I ask him where we’re headed, Vin cranks up the radio and sings loudly along to some top 40 ballad. I’m shocked that he knows the words, but not enough to forget I want an answer.
When I turn off the radio and start to ask again, he rolls down all of the windows. My words are lost to the rush of air that spins up my hair into a knotty mess and makes it look like I just stepped out of a wind tunnel.
The third time, when it finally becomes clear that under our new paradigm he has to work a little harder to shut me up, Vin casts me a look that is darkly sensual.
He finally speaks for the first time since we got in the car.
“What will you give me if I tell you?”
I strive to keep my voice flat, uninterested, even as it feels like I’m locked in a cage with a wild animal that also has the key hanging from its neck. “I don’t do road head. It’s the best way I can think of to die in a fiery car crash.”
“Why does your mind always go to something sexual?” he drawls, voice faintly mocking. “And you could at least give me a chance to act like a gentleman. I would take care of you first.”
One of his hands teases at the hem of my shirt until I slap it away.
“Yeah, that sounds much safer.”
His eyebrow raises in obvious challenge. “Is that the only problem? Say the word, and I’ll pull this car over right now.”
“We have a deal.” I clamp my thighs together to keep them from shaking. “You wouldn’t let me take sex off the table, but we agreed it won’t happen again until after the wedding.”
His tone is mild, but I hear the touch of mockery in his voice. “What does a few hours really matter?”
“It matters to me.”
“So if I wait five minutes and then stick a finger inside that pretty little pussy, you won’t be wet for me?”
I fight off a shiver. “Wanting something physically isn’t the same as wanting it in any other way.”
Vin makes an agreeable sound, but smirks at the empty road ahead of us.
My consent has always been an assumption with him, and I only have myself to blame for that.
Because he has been crawling into my bed at night since the end of sophomore year. Because the only thing we’ve ever had between us is anger, hatred, and sexual tension that burns hotter than a grease fire.
I’ve never taken a guy wanting to fuck me as any particular compliment. Maybe it was growing up in the Gulch and seeing how men act when they feel emboldened to ignore the rules of society, but most guys will stick their dick into almost anything. Just because a guy doesn’t want to show a girl off, doesn’t mean he won’t crawl into her bed in the middle of the night and whisper anything he thinks she might want to hear if it gets him what he wants.
Nobody should be proud of what only happens in the dark.
But this playfulness is something new. Bantering with me and flaunting us together by driving through the nicest parts of town with me in the passenger seat is something new.
Vin is acting like we have a relationship outside of the deal that needs to stay purely business. His teasing makes me feel desirable. It makes me feel normal. I’ve already said yes to this ridiculous arrangement, so he doesn’t have to offer me anything else. It almost makes it possible to convince myself he treats me this way because he likes it.
Because he likes me. Like he used to.
The small part of my heart that hasn’t already turned to dust isn’t strong enough to resist him.
And I have to resist him.
Because the moment I give him a way to hurt me, he will be compelled to use it.
“Maybe I’m not so sure I want to go through with
