I glanced at Sofia. She still lay on her back, her legs parted. Her body called to me like a siren, her pussy inviting, but I didn’t want our sex to be like this, with Sofia like an injured cat clawing at me in despair.
Last time had been excusable. I hadn’t known it was her. I’d thought she wanted it . . . but tonight would have been absolutely inexcusable. Even if she’d practically urged me to fuck her, to take her like a fucking animal, I had to control myself. At least until she really wanted this sort of sex. But looking into her pale face, I knew she was as confused as I felt, and whatever she wanted, it wasn’t what I’d almost done.
“Sofia,” I murmured, trying to form words to make sense of the situation. “This . . . what almost happened. It won’t happen again.” It wasn’t enough.
Sofia’s gaze snapped to me, hurt and anger crossing her beautiful face. “Sleeping with your surrogate bride?”
She scrambled to her side of the bed and swung her legs out. Her shoulders were stiff. I reached for her, my fingers brushing her skin, but she jerked away. “You should have done what I wanted.”
“Don’t lie to me. I’m not blind. I could see in your eyes that you didn’t want our first time to go like this.”
“First time?” she scoffed.
“That doesn’t count,” I said firmly. Fuck, I hadn’t even been fully in.
She scowled at me, her eyes were glassy. “You don’t know what I want, so don’t pretend you didn’t claim me tonight because my eyes told you I didn’t want it. You didn’t want it.”
She shoved to her feet and disappeared in the bathroom, her shoulders stiff and straight. Confused, I gave her room. She obviously didn’t want my closeness. I stared down at myself. What the hell was happening? I didn’t usually lose control, especially with a woman. I’d promised myself to hold back, to give Sofia all the time she needed before we’d get intimate. I wanted to give her time to forget the events from the party. Instead, I’d almost added even worse memories to the old ones. How had everything spiraled out of control? I didn’t understand Sofia’s reasoning, not entirely. Why was making me angry her way to handle this?
I loosened my tie and threw it to the ground, followed by my shirt, but I closed my pants. Sofia didn’t need to see my cock now.
I waited for her. The sound of running water reached my ears and I moved closer to determine its source. I relaxed when I realized it was the sink not the shower. If Sofia had felt the urge to shower, I’d have felt even worse, even if we didn’t have sex. My guilt was an overwhelming presence as it was but beneath it simmered exasperation and frustration over my inability to understand my young wife.
Ten minutes later, Sofia emerged in the same sexy red nightgown, barefoot and without a hint of makeup. She looked innocent and young, but so gorgeous and delicious. I was torn between arousal and guilt. With Sofia, guilt had become a too familiar companion.
She avoided looking at my half-naked state and tried to pass me by on her way to the bed, but I grabbed her wrist. “Are you okay?”
She nodded but still wouldn’t look at me. “I’m fine. Just tired.”
“Sofia.”
“I don’t want your pity or your guilt. I wanted your anger and you gave it to me.” She tugged at my hold until I released her, and she headed toward the bed. I was at a loss what to say. I wanted to understand her. I wanted her to be happy in this marriage, but I wasn’t sure it was an option right now. I’d thought only I was haunted by the kidnapping and the events afterwards, but Sofia seemed to carry her own baggage.
I stepped into the bathroom, unsure how to act around my wife. I didn’t understand her or her motives. What did she expect from me?
Not angry fucking.
I’d been with enough women to know that she wouldn’t enjoy the rough play. She’d taunted me to test me, and I’d failed her test.
When I returned to the bedroom after a quick shower to wash away the sweat, Sofia lay on her side, facing the other wall. Her slender shoulders and neck didn’t shake like they would have if she were crying. That realization offered little consolation as I stretched out beside her. She tensed, as if she feared what I’d do next, as if she thought I might have a go at her at all. I wouldn’t even have tried to sleep with her if it weren’t for her provocation, and I definitely wouldn’t try anything now that I realized Sofia wanted something else. I touched her arm and turned her around to me, needing to see her expression. “Sofia, say something. I need to understand.”
“There’s nothing to understand,” she said, meeting my gaze stubbornly, but she wasn’t as good at hiding her emotions as me. I could see the turmoil and hurt swirling in her blue eyes.
“If you didn’t want to have sex, why did you ask me to fuck you? Why the provocation?”
“I wanted you to consummate our marriage. I wanted sex. You obviously didn’t. End of story,” she said almost angrily.
I wasn’t sure if enjoyment was the right word to describe what I would have felt if I’d really fucked Sofia. My anger had been too strong, eating me up from the inside. “I was driven by anger. That’s not how it’s supposed to be. You should enjoy it, too.”
She stared stubbornly at my chest. I touched her chin to nudge her face up, but she pulled away.
“I don’t understand what you want me to do.”
“You never wanted to marry me,” she said quietly, her voice wavering. She pressed her lips together.
I frowned.
