Page 60 of The Arrangement

“What can I do to make it less weird?”

She shrugs.

“Well, first, I don’t give a fuck what anyone believes,” I say. “My private life is none of their concern. Second, I’ll fire anyone who makes you feel uncomfortable. And, third, if you really don’t want to be there, you can work from home. Or quit. Or go work for Tate.”

“Yeah. No thanks on that last option.”

I chuckle.

“Can I ask you something else?” she asks.

“Sure.”

“Why did you agree to this so quickly?” She nibbles a fingernail. “You didn’t even think about it.”

“Because I know what I want.”

Her eyes narrow, but she doesn’t speak. She keeps biting her nail.

“I told you we can’t have secrets between us,” I say, adjusting our altitude. “So, in the spirit of transparency, when this opportunity came along, it wasn’t hard to agree to it because I’ve known for a long time that if I were ever to marry anyone…” I settle back and face her. “You were the only choice.”

She gasps, her lips puckering into the sweetest pout.

“I know this is for six months.” I drag my gaze away, my stomach churning. “And that’s fine. But I’ll know what it’s like to be married because I’ll likely never do it again.”

“Jason …”

She says my name as if it were a question and a statement. I don’t dare look at her because I’m unsure what to say. I told her the truth—well, most of it, anyway. Six months won’t be enough for me. I’ll never be sorry for telling her what I think she can manage. I only hope the truth doesn’t scare the shit out of her.

“I had no idea,” she says, stammering.

I shrug. “You weren’t supposed to have an idea. You were my good friend and my excellent EA.” I grin. “But, come on. You had to know I think you’re beautiful. How many times have we been seconds away from crossing lines?”

“A hundred.” She shifts in her seat. “But okay. This is good information.”

“It is?”

“Yes. It is.” She takes a breath, releasing her grip on her sweater. “This should add pressure to the situation, but it really takes it off.”

“How do you figure?”

“Well, we’re going to be married anyway. I know we said we’d treat it like a real marriage, but that was still under the guise of the bet. But if we look at it like we’re curious about marriage, even if we don’t really want it, we may as well experience it.”

I like where this is going.

“I’m going to be your wife, Mr. Brewer,” she says, her voice filled with a naughtiness that constricts my entire body. “We’re marrying because of the bet. We’re going all in because we want to.”

Fucking hell.

She lays her palm on my leg precariously close to my groin. There’s enough pressure to send bolts of electricity rippling through my veins but not enough to feel satisfied.

Her hair is pulled back from her face, and the front of her shirt scoops just above the top of her bra. Her nipples are hard, pebbling through the thin fabric of her T-shirt that she leaves bared for me to see.

I fight a swallow, reminding myself I’m flying an airplane.

The tips of her fingers tease my cock. I snatch her hand in a snap and then bring it to my lips. Her hand is tiny, fitting easily inside mine as I press the slightest kiss to her palm. She moans softly, her eyes fluttering closed as I release her.

“Were you being serious earlier?” she asks, opening her eyes. “When you said you thought about me in the shower?”