by Magan Vernon
My chest twisted in knots, but I forced a reassuring smile. “Of course I care. You’re my girlfriend, marriage agreement or not.”
She turned toward me with her mouth open. Then she closed it again, clearing her throat before leaning back, her eyes facing the wall again.
“I kind of like you speechless, but I also do enjoy it when you’re vocal,” I murmured, trying to break the tension.
Her shoulders dropped as I traced my thumb down the back of her neck. What the hell was this girl doing to me, and why couldn’t I stop?
“You know, you haven’t even agreed to be my girlfriend yet. I don’t think I’ve asked that of a girl since nursery school. Her name was Julia Ghoul, and she broke up with me for a first grader.”
She smiled, peering up at me. “Did you give her flowers picked from the playground?”
I laughed. “It was so long ago I can’t even remember much of it. Not every girl has the ability to ingrain themselves in my memory as you have.”
I traced a line down her bare leg. I’d already had her, and at this point with a woman, I’d unusually have left or not even cared about the conversation. But with her, I couldn’t get enough.
There was a knock.
Blasted room service showed up early.
As soon as I opened the door, five different men in suits pushed carts full of covered trays in the room. “Set it up in the living room.”
When they situated the carts, I pulled out my wallet and handed them each a large note. Each of them thanked me profusely before going back the way they’d come, leaving Fallon and me alone again.
“How much food did you order?” she asked, slowly stepping toward the carts.
“Just one of everything on the menu,” I said casually, as if this was something I did all the time, not something I did just for her. I opened a covered dish on the first cart, the smell of braised duck filling the air.
“There is no way in hell we can eat all of this,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s too much.” Her eyes widened, and she threw her arms to the side.
I closed the space between us, putting my hands on her arms. “I’m heir to a multi-billion-dollar company. Once we’re married and the contracts are signed, this isn’t just mine anymore—it’s yours.”
She frowned. “It’s still too much. It’s a lot to process. You’re talking to someone who sometimes as a kid only had meals when school was in session. My parents never had money. And this…it’s just a lot.”
That she’d lived such a hard life made me want to give her everything even more. “I understand. But I like doing these things for you. It gives me pleasure.”
“Really?” She smiled.
“Yes. And I think it’s time we talked a bit more about our arrangement.”
I’d joked, and we’d tiptoed around the details, but never sat down and talked about it all. “I’m always here to answer any questions. If there’s anything I can do to ease your mind, just tell me.”
I took both her hands, trying to ignore the twisting in my head saying I shouldn’t keep getting closer to her. “I’m here to see that we both get what we want. Sometimes I just go a bit overboard.”
“Maybe a little bit,” she said, raising her hand with her thumb and forefinger pinched together.
“Why don’t you take a seat. I’ll get you a plate, and you take that paper and pen on the desk to write down some rules. I guess the only rule we ever set was ‘no sex,’ and we know what happened to that one.” I grinned.
Her cheeks went scarlet, and she turned away as if I couldn’t see.
“What exactly will we do with these rules?” she asked, walking toward the table by the window and pulling out a pad and pen.
“We can make this a contract between us, for now. Something we should have done in the beginning. I don’t know how legally binding it is, but it’s a start,” I said as she sat down, twirling the pen in her hand.
“Should we start with the basics? The marriage and staying married for six months so you get the company?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.
I nodded, licking my lips. “Ah, you should write exactly what you want. If it’s a certain amount of money, a different job in the city, or whatever. Put it all down. But once we get this written, then no more business talk for the rest of the weekend, okay?”
She smiled slightly. “Okay.”
I glanced over her shoulder. I thought the first item would be a salary or dollar settlement amount. I found her smile brightening as she wrote down rule number one.
“You can’t be serious,” I balked.
“What? You told me to write down some rules. I think this is a good one,” she glanced over her shoulder, batting her eyelashes.
“No gifts over one hundred euros seems like a stretch. Groceries alone cost more than that,” I muttered, wondering where the hell this woman got the balls. I was offering her the world, and she was putting limits on it.
“Hey, you said I could pick my rules, and that’s one of them.”
Two could play at that game.
She followed me with her gaze as I lifted a tray to reveal a chocolate torte covered in caramel. “Does this count as being under one hundred euros?”
She swallowed as I sat the dessert in front of her and held up a fork.
“Technically, no…” she said slowly.
“Come on, pinky, you can’t refuse dessert. And it’s already here. Indulge a little bit. For me?” I asked, setting the fork in front of her. Her tongue darted against her lips.
She sighed, putting her pen down with extra oomph, and picked up the fork. “If I take a bite, will that make you happy?”
“Very.” I grinned, thinking I’d won at least one battle.
She took a bite. Her throat bobbed as the tiniest moan escaped her mouth, and then food was the furthest thing from my mind.
“I’ll admit, this is delicious. Do you want to try a bite?” She held out her fork with a piece of the cake, dripping with caramel.
Fuck talking about contracts and rules. I owed it to Fallon to do what I promised and write it all down, but now that I knew the sighs she made when I was buried deep inside her, I couldn’t concentrate on anything else.
The nagging thoughts about focusing on the company, about not getting too close, went to the back of my mind. All I could focus on was her tongue flicking across her lips.
I took a few steps closer before getting down on my knees. She eyed me carefully, sucking in a breath as I spread her legs. Her panties were already damp beneath my fingertips as I slid them down her legs, letting them fall to the floor.
“That wasn’t what I meant by taking a bite,” she stammered.
Using my thumb, I swiped some caramel from her fork. Staying locked on her gaze as I slid my slick finger across her damp opening. She shuddered against my touch, her mouth parted, and she let out a shaky breath.
“We can discuss those when I’m done,” I murmured.
…
The list was made of rules that included “no large gifts,” and “closed doors are closed for a reason.” Then Fallon added in the small part stating we were going to go into a marriage agreement, and if something were to happen at the end of six months, she would be awarded a sum equal to her student loans and ten years of her Nana’s nursing home stay. I insisted on the last part, wanting to make it as generic as possible. Eventually, we would make this part of a prenuptial agreement using a solicitor and different wording. I didn’t want Thomas O’Malley or the board to see anything that would allude to our deal.
After the rules were signed, we barely made it through a fraction of the food before the waiters came back to take the carts.
“Cup of tea?” I asked, walking to the small electric kettle.
“Sure, that sounds good,” Fallon said with a big yawn.
I made two cups of steaming water and put a bag of Earl Grey in each mug before bringing them to the coffee table.
She curled up in the corner of the couch. She t
ook her tea gingerly, blowing on the rim before taking a tiny sip.
“Movie before bed?” I asked, turning on the TV.
“Oh! Not a bucket list or a Post-it note item, but I’ve never paid for a movie in a hotel.”
I laughed, putting my arm around her and turning on the TV with my free hand. “I guess you’re having a lot of firsts today.”
“Mm-hmmm,” she said, leaning her head against my shoulder.
My chest tightened again. I liked this. Maybe a bit too much. But we were friends, after all. Friends with an agreement, who gave each other orgasms.
The movie had barely started before Fallon was asleep. I stopped the show, put up her tea, and then carried her to the bed.
I stripped down to my boxers then pulled back the covers, pressing against her warm body.
Here, at this moment, I could forget about contracts and everything else looming over us, and just fall asleep with Fallon in my arms instead.
Chapter Twenty
Fallon
My eyes fluttered open, something warm pressed against my cheek. I thought maybe the day with Connor was all just a dream. But this very real, very hard chest was against me. He was already awake with his arm wrapped around my shoulder and his free hand holding a book.
“Are you reading in bed?” I murmured, my voice still groggy from sleep.
He laughed, his whole body vibrating against me. “I didn’t want to wake you, pinky. My phone would do that, so I found this book on the nightstand and thought I’d give it a try.”
“What kind of book would be on a hotel nightstand?” I asked, lifting my head slightly.
“May we be blessed with warmth in our home, love in our hearts, peace in our souls, and joy in our lives,” he said. “It’s an Irish blessing.”
Then he kissed me—one of those, only-Conner-can-send-heat-through-my-toes kind of things.
I put my hand on his chest and pulled away. It wasn’t easy. “As much as I want to lie in bed with you all day, I probably need to shower then figure out what to wear. Is this anniversary celebration fancy? I packed a little bit of everything,” I said, slowly crawling out of his arms and scooting toward the edge of the bed.
He sat up, the blanket falling to his lap and giving me a mouthwatering view of those two shamrock tattoos on his hip bones. I tried to engrave every dip of his abs into my memory because I knew it wouldn’t be too much longer and this would all be over.
“It’s nothing you need to wear a ball gown for, but I made a call to a personal shopper at Brown Thomas. I got a text that a few items are waiting at the front desk. If you don’t like them, we can exchange them for something else. I know that breaks the no spending rule, but I made the call before the rules. That means it doesn’t count,” he stated with a smile.
The blanket fell to the floor as he stood. The man knew exactly what he was doing to distract me, and it took everything I had not to stare.
“You bought me new clothes…again?”
He flashed that dimpled smile before slowly walking toward me like an animal on the prowl.
“I prefer what you don’t wear. Hiding those curves underneath faded suits or worn-out jeans and college T-shirts is a crime. But I don’t need to pick up the clothes right now, or at all. If you want me to send them back, I’ll do that. We can spend the morning doing something other than worrying about getting dressed,” he murmured, taking my hand and cupping it over his erection.
“You’re trying to distract me,” I said.
“Is it working?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.
“No,” I said as firmly as I could, though I still couldn’t pry my hand away from him.
He sighed and put his hands on my shoulders. “I’ll make a deal with you, pinky. The money that I spend on you this weekend, I’ll match the same amount to go either to the charity of your choice, or into a trust to pay for your nana’s nursing home bills.”
It was an offer that was hard to resist, yet I still shook my head. “I can’t make you do that, either. I told you that I would honor my part of the agreement, and you don’t need to give me expensive gifts to make me do that.”
He let out a deep breath. “You’re stubborn as a mule and absolutely maddening at times, do you know that?”
“I can say the same thing about you,” I challenged, moving my hands away from him, placing them on my own waist.
“Well, what are we going to do then? Stand here naked all day and argue?”
“No,” I stammered trying to think of a good response. But when he looked at me, all I could do was try to ignore the ache I had for him.
He took a step forward, moving his hands to mine and intertwining our fingers. “I just want to enjoy this weekend with you, okay? It’s been a grand time so far, and let’s keep it that way. Stop thinking about everything else.”
I wanted to tell him that as much as I was enjoying our time together, physically and emotionally, that I couldn’t stop thinking about wanting more. My chest tightened every time he said something so sweet.
“Okay,” I said, nodding and letting out a breath.
He smiled, his eyes sparkling. “Now, get in that shower so we can make our tee time. Then we’d better get through as many bucket list and sticky note items as we can.”
…
After my shower, I found large bags filled with tissue paper on the bed.
Curious, I pushed aside the tissue paper and found a beautiful black and white jumpsuit. I choked. The thing was over fourteen-hundred euros.
“What do you think?” Connor’s warm arms wrapped around my waist, and his lips pressed against my ear.
“It’s so beautiful, but also so much money. I thought you said this thing wasn’t a dress-up sort of thing.” I wasn’t a materialistic girl, but this may have been the most expensive and nicest piece of clothing I’d ever owned, or hell, seen in person. Guilt washed over me for even thinking about keeping something so nice.
“Fallon.” His lips trailed from my ear to the curve of my neck. “I thought we weren’t going to talk about money or other things.”
I bit back the moan threatening to escape. “It’s too much.”
“I just thought you might like something special to wear for today. This makes me happy, but if you’d rather wear something else, that’s fine, too.”
I glanced over my shoulder, trying to keep my face stern, the hairs on my neck still prickling from his touch. “I’ll wear the clothes if it makes you happy, but it’s under duress.”
He laughed. “Duly noted. And unless you have any objections, I’m going to shower. You can stare at your clothes or eat some breakfast,” he said.
My hand slid across the silky material.
This man is dangerous for my soul.
I opened the other bags to reveal some polo shirts, blouses, tailored pants, and dress shoes. All stuff I could wear to work or at casual events. All with designer labels and price tags that were extravagant.
The guilt weighed heavy on me. I was really falling for this guy. Not for the gifts or his money, but for the man who used that money to do something for me, the girl who never had anything. I was a real Cinderella, or like Julia Roberts in Pretty Women, but less hooker-like.
When Connor walked into the living room, I had to shake myself out of my thoughts and place the bacon back on my plate. He took slow steps until he was right in front of the couch. I looked from his golf shoes to the dark pants and white shirt that had to have been tailored to fit his long, lean body like a glove.
“As much as I’d love your lips wrapped around something, we should head for our tee time,” he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“You’re still serious about that golfing thing?” I put my bacon on the plate, trying to smile and make my words seem playful with a little laugh.
His brow furrowed before he sat down on the couch. He inched closer, his leg against my bare one, sending a shiver straight to my core.
“I would never make you do anything you
don’t want to do. If you don’t want to golf, we won’t. I’ll always try to oblige your every need. Multiple times.”
I cleared my throat. “Golf is good.” I squeezed my legs together, trying to tame the need that happened whenever he talked dirty to me.
“So get dressed.”
I went to the bedroom and put on a pair of black shorts and pink polo that looked golf-ish. “Is this what I was supposed to wear?” I asked as I came back and did a spin in the living room.
His face was unreadable, his brow furrowed. He took a few steps toward me until we were toe-to-toe. My back went rigid, and I held my breath, waiting for his move. “It’s perfect. Are you ready?”
We walked through the luxurious lobby and then to the course. A man in all black sat on a golf cart that had two new sets of clubs on the back, one of them in a pink bag.
“Is that…?” I asked, looking between the cart and Connor.
Connor grinned, squeezing my hand before the man approached him, speaking in a very thick accent that I could barely understand.
The only thing I got was something about the beautiful girl, and being all set. Then the man handed Connor a set of keys and shook his hand before walking away.
“You wanna drive, pinky?” Connor asked, shaking the keys.
“You’re the one who’s done this before. I can’t believe you would even suggest me driving.”
He laughed, putting his hand on my back and pointing me toward the cart. “I’m always willing to let you drive. I’ve seen what you can do when you’re riding me. You’d look damn sexy in my leather seats, moving the shifter between us while I slowly move my fingers in and out of your slick, wet core. I’m getting hard just thinking about it,” he murmured the last part. If every nerve I had wasn’t already prickling, now they were exploding.
“Maybe you can just teach me to drive a manual first. Then explain why you rented me some pink clubs,” I suggested, trying to talk about something else and not think about the butterflies floating low in my stomach.
He smirked, sliding into the driver’s seat before putting the keys in the ignition. “I bought the golf clubs, pinky. I know you’re going to give me hell about it, so I’ll offer a trade. For the clubs, golf lessons, and me teaching you to drive a stick,” he said, immediately taking my hand and putting it on his hard bulge.