I don’t want to acknowledge the bitter taste that leaves in my mouth, or the heaviness that creeps into my chest like a darkness eclipsing the beating organ in my ribcage. Refusing to think about it, I push it away and tell myself I’ll deal with it another time.
The doubt in her eyes, the fear, is identical to the emotions I saw when I proposed this idea. It’s the same look that crossed her face after we walked out of that courthouse. She trusted me enough to believe I’d take care of her, which is the only reason she said yes.
But now she’s second guessing that.
I’ve never trusted easily, so I know it’s hypocritical to be offended that Rylee doesn’t put faith in me unconditionally. No amount of money can buy something like that—no ring can cement the promises I’ve made to her, not when there’s an impending date hovering over our heads that reminds us we’re on a timeline.
“I promise,” I say softly, eyes pleading for her to believe me.
Her lips press together, eyes studying me for sincerity, before she nods once. “Okay.”
I settle back onto the couch, easing my tense muscles, and loosening a sigh. “I was staring at you because you’re a catch, Rylee.”
“A catch,” she scoffs quietly, readjusting on the couch. “Sure, I’m a catch. But the fishermen I’m used to want a catch and release. They don’t want to keep me. They just want to say they caught me for the bragging rights.”
She doesn’t try masking the bitterness in her tone, so my interest piques. “Do you want to be caught?”
There’s a moment of pause, and I want to know what she’s contemplating—the truth, or a fraction of it. “By whom? You?” Her tone is light, but her two-tone eyes show reluctant acceptance when we lock gazes. “Considering both our names are on the marriage certificate, I’d say I already have been, Mr. Matthews.”
The thought of claiming someone like her should excite me, but I can’t show that. Not yet. Not until she’s truly accepted this. “I’ve never been fishing before, but it seems there’s a benefit to being caught by me, Mrs. Matthews.”
Her brows go up in inquiry.
I smirk. “The fisherman who gets to keep the fish, also gets to eat it.”
The blush darkening her face tells me she understands exactly what I mean.
“I’m curious,” I murmur, moving closer until the slightest hitch of her breath curls my lips upwards. It’s the exact sound I hoped to hear as my lips neared hers. I stop short, teasing, waiting, and when she doesn’t object, I press a featherlight kiss against lips that taste faintly of cherry Chapstick.
Humming against her lips, I praise the choice. “One of my favorite flavors.” She doesn’t need to know my absolute favorite is what I’d happily taste if she opened her legs for me.
The tip of my tongue traces the seam of her lips before she parts them and lets me deepen the kiss. As much as I want to touch her, I keep my hands to myself and wait to see if she makes the move.
If I listen close enough I can hear her heartbeat racing, thumping, drumming to the rhythm of mine as she experimentally touches the tip of her tongue against mine. Groaning into her mouth, I run my tongue along her teeth before drawing back and nipping her bottom lip before letting it go.
Her face is flushed, eyes glazed, as she draws the same lip into her mouth and studies my face carefully.
“Interesting,” I purr, testing my luck and leaning in for one last kiss, only brushing the corner of her mouth this time.
She doesn’t say a word as I pull away and stand, but her eyes follow me as I flatten my shirt, clean up the coffee table of the boxes and silverware, and tell her I’ll be upstairs if she needs me.
I know she won’t follow.
Won’t knock.
But I can’t help but smirk at the way those eyes of hers lit up the second I leaned in with a feeling I know all too well.
Lust.
And that’s when I know there’s hope.
13
Garrick
Chase walks into the home gym I occupy every morning, holding a big box in his hands. “There’s a new delivery guy on our route. When he saw the name on the package I think he got a hard-on. Pretty sure I saw him taking a selfie of himself in front of the house.”
It’s common knowledge where I live nowadays. The gate around the property does its job separating the public from me, but with Rylee here, I have to be careful. After moving around some vehicles in the garage, I had her pull her car inside so nobody could see her plates and trace her here to me because you can never be too safe.
I set down the dumbbells, wipe off my sweaty forehead, and pause the music blasting in my ears. 80s rock is always my preferred go-to when I work out, but Reg has been on our asses about figuring out the rest of our album, so I’ve been listening to instrumentals for the past hour and a half trying to go through lyrics in my head.
“Thanks, Chase.” I rip open the top and peel back the side flaps.
My brother steps forward to inspect what’s inside, his face twisting with confusion. “I didn’t think you liked these things.”
“Rylee said she always wanted one.” I pull out the air fryer box and examine the pictures of fried food on the sides. “It’ll be her wedding gift from me.”
“Christ, you already gave her that huge ass ring—which she hasn’t worn once—and you’re paying her medical bills. Plus, you’re planning on putting her on your insurance. Don’t you think that’s enough?”
I set the box down and sigh. “I’m trying
