Jared turned to find an older woman standing before him, her face lined with age, her shoulder-length, silvery white hair pushed back with a thin black headband. He stared at her blankly, unsure of what to say.
The woman smiled, her dark brown eyes twinkling. “You and your wife? It’s clear you adore each other.”
“Ah, thank you.” It was clear? To whom? Not the gossip sites. Apparently, they already had them split.
“I was friends with Sheridan’s grandmother, you know.” She nodded with all the confidence of a woman wise beyond her years. “Met her when we were going through cancer treatment at the same time. Yvonne went on to create this event the year after she finished treatment, wanting to celebrate with all the rest of us that we were strong enough to kick cancer’s butt.”
Jared smiled. Sheridan had shared bits and pieces of her past but not much. He appreciated the woman’s candor. “So Sheridan’s carrying on the legacy of her grandmother.” In more ways than one.
“Indeed she is. Yvonne would be so proud of her. She’s such an amazing artist. An amazing woman.”
“I agree,” Jared said softly, his gaze cutting unerringly to where Sheridan stood. She caught him staring, flashing him an intimate, warm smile that filled him to bursting and made him feel like a lucky man, that she belonged to him.
Christ. What the hell was wrong with him, thinking like that?
“She did this even when she was suffering, mourning the loss of her grandma and worried if she could keep the studio last year. This event is much different than last year’s, which is a good thing. She’s such a strong, strong girl,” the woman continued, a gleam in her eyes, as if they were full of tears.
Pride suffused him. His wife touched so many lives and he’d had no idea. She took care of these women, made them feel good, and was gracious with her time, her money, her care. She worked with the local elementary school, volunteering to teach the kids about art. He’d learned that tidbit only a few days ago, after Harvey had told him. Besides all the hours she put in at her studio, teaching classes, private sessions, creating custom artwork for her clients. His wife was busy and on her way to becoming very successful.
And there he was, a part of her life, a pain in her ass generating stupid speculation on a gossip site wondering if their relationship was done for. It was ridiculous. Reminding him yet again his life was a circus sideshow and he was slowly turning Sheridan’s into one as well.
He couldn’t help but wonder why she tolerated him.
Chapter Fifteen
Jared had been quiet the entire ride home, which made Sheridan nervous. She, on the other hand, was buzzing, riding the high from her successful event. She’d had so much fun, felt supported by her friends, and the unexpected surprise of Jared and Nick showing up had delighted everyone in attendance.
Including herself.
She withheld a sigh as she studied her husband covertly out of the corner of her eye. Goodness, he was handsome. Exuding a quiet, powerful strength as he sat behind the wheel of his SUV, his big hands gripping the steering wheel and driving with confidence through the rain-soaked streets. He needed a haircut but she liked the messiness of it. The two-day stubble growth on his cheeks and jaw just added to his rugged sexiness and the way his navy blue, long-sleeved Henley clung to his arms, shoulders and chest, well…it fueled more than a few fantasies churning within her.
“Something on my face?” he asked, breaking her thoughts.
“What? No.” She shook her head, mortified he caught her. She settled in her seat, staring straight ahead, watching the rain come down hard as Jared drove the winding road back to his place. Their place.
“Then why were you looking at me?” His quiet, rumbling voice reached deep inside her, making her skin warm, heating her blood. She wanted him. So badly it was killing her.
No, she didn’t just want him. She was starting to need him. And boy if that wasn’t scary…
“Maybe I like looking at you?” she offered, deciding to be honest.
He smiled, a flash of white in the semi-darkness of the car’s interior. “I like looking at you too. Watching you tonight…you were amazing, Sheridan.”
She stilled, shocked at his words. “What?”
He glanced at her quickly, returning his attention to the road. “Making all of those women smile, teaching them about art. Helping them forget their troubles at least for a little while, or reminding the ones who’ve gone through it already that they’re still strong. I’m so proud of you, baby.”
“Thank you,” she murmured, pressing her lips together. Tears threatened. She didn’t know why—it didn’t make any sense. But that Jared would say such sweet things about her, that he respected and admired what she did, touched her.
Reaching out, he settled his hand on her denim-covered thigh, squeezing her leg. His touch burned through the thick fabric, and her skin tingled. “You’re making a real difference in their lives.”
All the praise was making her uncomfortable. She wasn’t used to it, especially from a guy. One of her past boyfriends had been such an egomaniac she’d hardly got a word in the entire time they’d been together. Another had been so wrapped up in his own world, he hadn’t noticed whether she was coming or going. Generally selfish bastards, every one of them. Not that Jared didn’t have a healthy ego (he couldn’t not; just look at him) or that he wasn’t selfish (come on, he’s a man) but that he said all those sweet things and meant them. That he noticed what she’d done that night.
It meant the world to her.
She remained quiet the rest of the ride home, contemplating Jared’s words. Thinking of everything that had happened between them lately. She’d grown so close to him. Too close. She respected him, believed in him, wanted to take care of him when it seemed no one else did. He was strong and loyal and funny. A little stubborn, he was a man who didn’t like to give an inch but was generous to a fault. Thoughtful and sexy and possessive and so gorgeous it hurt to look at him.
Glancing down at her hands clutched in her lap, she came to a painful realization.
She’d fallen in love with him. The very last thing she wanted to do. But she’d gone and done it anyway.
Stupid…
They were home minutes later, Jared getting them there safe and sound despite the terrible weather. He’d pulled the car into the garage so they wouldn’t get wet and she dashed into the house, trying to escape the cold, maybe even trying to escape the man she’d stupidly fallen in love with.
But he was right behind her, holding the door open, helping her slip out of her coat. Seemed as if she could always count on him. But could she? Could she really? The famous womanizer had done a complete turnaround and was now the doting husband? It felt so real…but was it all for show?
“You okay?” He settled his big hands on her shoulders, his palms warm, his fingers rubbing her skin. His touch felt so good, she wanted to give in to it. Give in to him. “You’re quiet.”
“I’m just…tired.” She was. But it was more than that. A smarter person wouldn’t have fallen in love with Jared. A better woman would’ve stepped back, realized what she was getting herself into, and guarded her heart.
Instead, Sheridan had walked right into their marriage just begging to get hurt. Not even the no-sex clause protected her. Though that had been her own fault, giving in when she should’ve remained strong.
“Let’s go to bed then,” he murmured close to her ear, his tone suggestive.
He took her hand and led her to his bedroom—their bedroom, really. She hadn’t slept in the guest bed in weeks. Leaving the lamps off in his cavernous room, she went to the bathroom and flicked on the low lights, scrubbing her face devoid of makeup, brushing her teeth. She stripped down to her panties and grabbed a T-shirt that Jared had left on the counter earlier, bringing it to her face so she could inhale his delicious scent. It didn’t smell sweaty, and it didn’t look dirty.
She slipped it on, the hem falling past her knees, the sleeves hitting her
mid-forearm. Counting to three, she stared at her reflection in the mirror, her eyes wide, her hair still in the high ponytail she liked to wear when she worked. She yanked out the band, tossed it onto the counter, and told herself to get out there.
Don’t have sex with him. Your heart is hurting enough.
Yeah, right. Like she could resist Mr. Magic Hands.
Feeling semi-brave, she went back into the bedroom and slipped into bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. Jared was already there, hot and big and—gulp—naked. He pulled her into him, those strong arms allowing her no chance to slip out of them. Her face was pressed against the heated skin of his chest.
He said nothing, just played with her hair, his fingers stroking through the thick, wavy strands. His touch soothed her. Lulling her into some sort of false sense of security she knew was foolish to believe in.
She should tell him the truth. Admit she’d been the one who asked for the no-sex clause. But it didn’t matter now, right? They cared about each other. They might even be falling in love with each other. So no biggie.
“You’re tense,” he murmured. “You need to relax.”
How she wanted to. But it was difficult. Resisting him was futile, no matter how much her practical side said it was best. Her heart—and especially her body—told her otherwise.
Those big hands started to massage her shoulders, easing the tension from her muscles, and she burrowed in closer to him with an appreciative murmur. “That feels so good.”
“Just returning the favor from a few weeks ago.” The amusement—and warmth—in his voice was evident. “You’ve been working hard.”
“So have you.” She slipped her arms around him, and let her fingers drift down the smooth, muscled expanse of his back.
“I haven’t been around much. I had no idea you put so much into your job.”
She remained quiet, enjoying his hands on her, the sound of his voice. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, his lips gentle, and tingles swept over her skin. Her eyes drifted closed, exhaustion settling over her.
God, she loved how he made her feel. Warm, safe, protected, cherished.
More than anything, she loved him.
…
Jared could lay like this forever and be perfectly content. His woman in his arms, her curvy body nestled close to his, her sweet scent surrounding him. He continued to rub her shoulders, pleased that the tension slowly eased from her body. Satisfaction rolled through him at the little murmurs that came from her with his every stroke, though he noticed they grew quieter and quieter as time went on.
He was becoming dependent on having Sheridan around, in his bed, in his life. Never before had he been content with having a woman spend the night and not actually do anything beyond sleep. He’d never allowed anyone to get so close.
Sexual attraction had brought them together. Forced circumstances had made them closer. If he didn’t know any better, he’d start to believe he was falling in love with her.
Holy. Hell.
His entire body frozen, he stared up at the ceiling. He didn’t believe he had it in him. Bringing a woman into his life, knowing how busy he was, knowing how selfish he could be, he’d never risked it. Figured it was pointless.
But the thought of not having Sheridan around scared the crap out of him. Did she feel the same? Was she happy to call him husband—for real? He’d been so proud of her earlier, watching her work, the look on her face when he entered her studio. He’d never forget her expression as long as he lived.
“Baby, you awake?” He smoothed his hand over her hair but she didn’t make a sound, didn’t move. Her breathing was deep and even, her body languid against his. She was asleep.
And he was quietly reeling.
He didn’t love her—did he? He’d never loved another woman, not even his mother, who he couldn’t remember since she’d ditched him when he was so young. Women were playthings. Women were fun and they smelled sweet and they tasted good and when he was done, he picked himself up, dusted himself off, and moved on to the next one.
So why didn’t he feel that way with Sheridan? Why did she make him want to do something, say something, to prove that he was worthy of her? She was just a woman. A beautiful, messy, perfect, flawed, sexy, sweet woman he couldn’t seem to get out of his system no matter how much he tried.
And Lord knew how he tried.
He should man up and tell her how he felt. Let her know she meant more to him than some temporary, pretend wife gig. That what they shared was real. At least for him.
No more running. No more hiding from his feelings. He knew in his gut she felt the same. He saw it in her eyes, felt it in her touch, tasted it in her kiss. She cared for him. If he was lucky enough, she might even love him.
Hopefully as much as he loved her.
Chapter Sixteen
Jared woke up first, the room still shrouded in darkness so he figured it was early. The clock had somehow been turned away from the bed and he was just too lazy to sit up and check.
So he didn’t.
“You awake?” he murmured as he slid his hands down the length of her body. Gathering the hem of her T-shirt, he tugged the fabric upward, desperate to feel her bare skin.
“Hmm, yes.” She tilted her face up to his, a tiny smile curving her mouth. “But shouldn’t you be getting ready for practice?”
“I don’t want to leave.” He kissed her softly, his lips lingering, his fingers curling around the waistband of her panties. He wanted her, he was already hard for her. “I’d rather stay in bed with you all day.”
“But…” He cut off her protest with a deep, tongue-thrusting kiss. He touched her face, drifted his fingers down the length of her throat, along the front of her shirt. Grabbing the bunched fabric beneath her breasts, he tried to drag the shirt up.
“Take it off,” he commanded, his voice rough and she did as he asked. Pulling away from him, she tossed the shirt on the floor, only wearing a pair of white lacy panties.
A groan escaped him at the sight. That fast, he wanted her. So much he shook with the force of it, the need to push inside her and take her completely almost overwhelming him. He grasped at her panties, tugging them off, tearing them with the force and her eyes went wide when he whisked them off her legs.
“I want you,” she whispered.
“You’ve got me, baby.” In more ways than she was aware of yet. Reaching in between her legs, he touched her, stretched her with his fingers, playing with her clit with his thumb. She was already close, he could tell by the sounds she made, how she moved against him.
The bonus of not using condoms was he could slip into her tight little body whenever he felt like it. As in, now. He pressed his cock to her entrance, slowly sliding in, prolonging the sensation of being inside her that much more. Torturing himself with Sheridan was a delicious sort of agony he enjoyed, sadist that he was.
Warm, velvety heat engulfed him and he rocked into her, propping himself on his elbows so he could watch her beautiful face. It was currently screwed up in concentration, her eyes closed, her brows drawn downward. Her parted lips were swollen and he leaned over, captured them in a lush, thorough kiss.
She smiled when he lifted away from her and he smiled in return, even knowing she couldn’t see him, since her eyes were still closed. All the while he moved within her, their bodies gliding against each other in a restless rhythm, his pleasure magnifying with every heartbeat.
And Christ, did his heart beat extra hard the longer he watched her. His breath grew short, his skin tingled, and he wanted to tell her how he felt. Foreign emotion threatened, clouding his brain, fogging his judgment and he stilled, unsure of what to do next.
Those pretty golden-brown eyes appeared, the little frown still creasing her brows. Reaching up, she cradled his cheek in the palm of her hand. “What’s wrong?”
“Do you know how fucking beautiful you are?” he whispered, his voice a hoarse rasp.
She smiled. Let her fingers drift down his cheek. �
��So are you.”
“No.” He shook his head, and turned his face so he could press a quick kiss to her palm. “You—you’ve gotten under my skin. I wake up, I think of you. I go to sleep, I’m thinking of you. Dreaming of you. You invade my thoughts all day long. And when I see you, I can hardly wait to get my hands on you.”
The frown eased, her brows straightened, and a sweet smile curved her lush mouth. “You say the sweetest things,” she murmured.
“I’m serious.” He rocked into her, making her moan. “You mean a lot to me, Sheridan. I don’t think you even know how much.”
Her eyes widened, appeared to be filled with—shit, was that fear? He ducked his head, pressed his mouth to the warm, fragrant skin of her neck. Licking her, nipping her sensitive flesh with his teeth, all the while he picked up his rhythm, pounding inside of her, determined to fuck the flowery, wasted emotions right out of him.
But he couldn’t. He was flat-out overwhelmed with emotion for her.
“You feel so good, Jared.” She skimmed her hands down the length of his back, her nails scraping his skin, making him shiver. “I love the way you move inside me.”
He kissed her in answer, his tongue thrusting wildly against hers. She made him feel out of control. Like an animal, barely restrained, ready to unleash…until she was screaming and pushing him away and pulling him in close.
But she brought out the tender side in him as well. Where he wanted to cherish her and prolong this amazing moment between them. Tease her, tease himself, kiss her until their mouths grew tired, give her as many orgasms as she could possibly take until she was begging him to stop torturing her.
Leaning into her, he brushed her ear with his lips, felt her tiny shiver. “You need to know I’m falling for you, baby.”
Tingles washed over him when she opened her eyes, her gaze meeting his. She smiled, the sight of it like an arrow to his heart. “I—I’m falling for you, too, Jared.”
“It’s too good between us, isn’t it? So good.” Beyond good. Like into another stratosphere un-fucking-believable. Just thinking it scared the shit out of him.
Game for Marriage Page 16