Page 6 of Clear Shot (Lauderdale Knights #9)
Aiden
My divorce was ugly so I vowed no more marriage for me. And if I did change my mind, it wouldn’t be for a very long time. Probably around the time I retired from hockey.
Instead, I just married the most beautiful woman I know so she doesn’t have to go back to Slovakia.
And now we’re moving her in.
Something else I swore I wouldn’t do again for at least a decade.
“Where am I sleeping?” she asks as we bring in two suitcases and a box of her things.
Ah, hell.
I’m not ready for this conversation.
“Where do you want to sleep?”
She cocks her head. “Is that a trick question?”
I shake my head. “I told you there was no rush for sex. But I have to be honest—it’s going to be hard to keep my hands off you if you’re sleeping next to me every night.”
“There’s no slowing this down,” she says, sinking into the nearest chair. “We’re here, doing this. Married. I don’t know how to back pedal.”
“We’re not going to back pedal—we’re going to go slow. We have to. Otherwise, we’re setting this up for failure.”
“We decided on a one-year expiration date,” she says. “That’s pretty much the definition of failure.”
I sit beside her but avoid her gaze. “What do you want, Hana? Deep down, in the part of you that you don’t tell anyone, what do you want?”
She’s quiet for a long time.
“I want whatever is going to be easiest for both of us. Whatever will allow us to co-exist for a year without getting complicated, so that neither of us ends up with a broken heart when it’s over.”
When it’s over.
We talked about a one-year time frame but now that she’s my wife, I can’t envision what that looks like.
Do we spend the next twelve months living and laughing and hanging out—eventually sleeping together—and then just walk away? Why does that rub me the wrong way?
“We’re not in love, Aiden,” she continues after a moment. “So let’s treat this like what it is—a business arrangement.”
I don’t know where she’s going with this, but this is absolutely, positively not a business arrangement.
“Business arrangements require an exchange of money, and that’s not happening here. And when the inevitable happens—don’t even try to deny we’re going to end up in bed at some point—we’re definitely not exchanging money then.”
Her cheeks flush pink but she lifts her head. “I just mean that we don’t want to complicate things. We agreed to a year, so let’s not get tangled up in…emotional stuff.”
“I don’t know if that’s possible,” I admit. “We’re friends. We’re going to be living together, pretending to be a madly-in-love couple in public, and eventually sharing a bed, so?—”
“We don’t have to,” she says quickly.
“We don’t have to what?” I ask. “Sleep together? Come on. It’s not a question of if, it’s simply a matter of when. We can try to delude ourselves but we shouldn’t.”
She rubs her temples and it’s obvious she’s struggling with something.
My gut tells me it’s not the sexual part of things, but she’s trying really hard to put some distance between us and I’m not sure why.
Last night she seemed fine. It’s only now that things are official that she seems to be having second thoughts.
“Do you not want to do this?” I ask finally. It’s jarring to realize I’m holding my breath as I wait for her to answer because… I don’t know what I’ll do if she’s changed her mind.
“We’ve already done it, no?” she asks curiously.
“We can get it annulled if you’re freaking out.”
“Oh, I’m definitely freaking out. But I don’t want to get it annulled. Unless you do.”
If there was ever a woman who needed to be kissed, it’s Hana right now.
But I can’t.
She’s wary, throwing up boulder-sized barricades, and I feel like I need to respect that.
“Look, I know this is a little awkward,” I say carefully. “But we were already good friends. Nothing has to change right now. We can just?—”
“Everything has changed!” she interrupts, standing up. “We’re married. On top of that, we have to put on a show every time we leave the house because I’m doing something a little shady.”
“It’s not shady!” I say, frowning “You got screwed by your job, and you’re just trying to survive. I offered to help. It’s not like your brother held a gun to my head. I wanted to do this for you.”
“I just feel bad,” she whispers. “Like I’m taking advantage of you and our friendship.”
“I’m a grown man. I knew what I was getting into and still did it.”
She turns to me, big blue eyes filled with worry. “I don’t want you to resent me.”
“Not going to happen.”
“Even if I say I’m not ready for us to sleep together?”
“Not even then.”
That seems to let the wind out of her sails, and I realize that’s what this sudden change of heart is about.
She’s nervous about sex. Because we’ve been dancing around the chemistry between us for almost a year.
Because we both want it so badly it’s sure to change everything between us when it happens.
Because it’s inevitable.
And it scares her.
The weird part of this is—it doesn’t scare me.
I just have to find a way to convince her of that.
But short-term, I’m never going to coerce a woman into sex, especially not one who’s important to me. I stopped believing in love a long time ago but if I was going to try again, it would be with someone like Hana. Or Hana, specifically.
“Hey.” I get up and move in front of her, lifting her chin with two fingers. “Look at me.”
Wary blue eyes meet mine.
“Sex is off the table unless and until we’re both ready.
If it gets to a point where I can’t stand the monk life anymore, we’ll talk.
I’ll never do anything to embarrass you, but I also don’t want you to feel obligated.
If it happens, great. If not, we’ll figure something out.
I don’t want you to be uncomfortable living with me. ”
“And sleeping next to you?”
Yeah, that’s going to be a problem.
But I’ll be damned if I admit it.
“I’m a gentleman,” I say quietly. “Will I wake up with a hard-on every morning? For sure. But will I ever touch you without permission? Not a chance in hell.”
“Aiden.” Out of nowhere, she moves against my chest and rests her head there.
“Were you worried about sex, baby?”
“A little.”
“Why?”
“I already told you why—I think it will complicate things.”
“Then we’ll wait until things are less complicated.”
That probably makes no sense, but as I wrap my arms around her, I realize all I want is to make her feel better.
And do whatever is necessary to keep her from leaving.
Because now that she’s mine, I don’t know that I’m willing to let her go.
Even though it breaks all my rules.
Even though I vowed to never fall in love again.
“Let’s start over,” I suggest softly.
She doesn’t move, merely nestles deeper against my chest, as if waiting for me to continue.
“Let’s go on dates, talk, get to know each other on a different level than before. No one knows what goes on behind closed doors—and the only people whose opinions matter are you and me.”
“Okay.” She still doesn’t move, her soft body firmly pressed against mine.
Under any other circumstances, I would be annoyed or hard, but I’m not either of those things right now.
All I care about is making her feel better.
Making her want to stay.
I have to think about why I feel this way, but not now.
We have to get her settled and then go to our mini wedding reception.
“For someone who doesn’t believe in love or marriage,” she whispers, “you’re gearing up to be a pretty good husband.”
There’s so much irony in that statement.
“My ex would disagree with you,” I murmur, stroking her hair.
“Maybe she didn’t understand you the way I do.”
Now there’s an understatement.
But I don’t want to talk about Regina.
No, I put her out of my mind as much as possible.
“Let’s get you unpacked,” I suggest gently.
She finally pulls away and when I look into her face she’s more relaxed now. The tightness is gone and her eyes are less shrouded.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
“For what?”
“For being you. For being so considerate of my mini breakdown. For making me feel better.”
I was a shitty husband once upon a time.
I won’t make that mistake again, even if this isn’t real and it’s going to end in a year.
For as long as she’s my wife, I’m going to be the man she needs me to be, even though I don’t really know that guy.
I’m going to find him, though.
For my own sake, if not for hers.