Page 26

I hear a surprised sound from Mateo, but it barely registers over the hot slide of Aiden’s mouth. It’s a filthy, open-mouthed kiss, his tongue already demanding entrance, his hand on my jaw just a little too tight for comfort.

Asshole.

I dig my nails into the skin of his arm and return each slow slide of his tongue with one of my own. He grunts again and palms my hip. His hand is hot and huge and intimate through the thin cotton of my breeches. He kneads my hip before I break the kiss to whisper, “Bastard.”

“My parents were married,” he growls. “Try again.”

I almost laugh, but his mouth is on mine again, even as the hoofbeats from Mateo’s pony are fading. His size, his heat, the cage of his arms—it’s overwhelming in the best way. Delicious and dirty and stealing my sanity.

Aiden’s teeth clash with mine and his grip on my hip turns punishing. I try to bite his tongue, and he makes a desperate sound.

Of pain, I hope.

Our kiss turns fierce, and I meet him stroke for stroke. He presses me into the stone. I curl my fingers into his shirt and try to climb him. He pulls my lip into his mouth. I tug on the hair at his neck, hard enough to hurt.

Any minute now, he’ll stop. Mateo is gone and he’s not coming back.

But god, I don’t want him to stop.

The anger is fading, melting into something heated and sweet with each stroke of his tongue. My stomach swoops as he steals my breath and groans into my mouth.

I yank him into me. He goes off balance and slams us both into the wall. His erection meets my stomach.

Holy shit.

I go still. His lips drop to my neck. His hand slides under my shirt. He makes a sound of approval as he tongues my pulse and pinches my nipple. I cry out and go boneless against the stone.

Aiden Prince wants me.

If the way his hardness pulses against my softness is any indication, he wants me very much. Probably as much as I want him.

This is bad. This is really bad. But the thought flees as he lifts my shirt and pulls my nipple into his mouth. He groans. He licks at me like he’s starving, from one breast to the other, tweaking and kneading as if he’s testing their weight or worried they’ll disappear.

I shut my eyes and sink my fingers into his hair. The thick strands are like silk as they slip through my hands.

“Fuck,” he groans. He nips at the underside of my breast, then paints a line of heat with his tongue to the other.

“We hate each other,” I pant. “We should stop.” I’m not sure if I can stop. My pulse is pounding between my legs and my hips are arching to meet his body.

He makes a sound of agreement but sucks on my neck instead of stopping. “Aiden.” I’m not sure what I’m asking. For him to continue, maybe. Or to put me out of my misery.

His hand drops to the button of my pants. He flicks it open with his mouth against my skin, his breaths panting out. His body is taut against mine, but he waits for me to react.

I won’t beg him. I can’t. If that’s what he wants, I’ll never— oh.

His hand slides into my underwear, and the brush of his finger against my clit makes me jolt and then sigh. He circles one thick finger and then slides through the wetness below.

I let my head drop back against the stone. His free hand lands next to me as he starts a slow, steady rhythm. Just light enough so I’m not too sensitive. Just firm enough to ratchet me higher, and higher, and oh god—

I whimper.

“You’re so wet,” he says, wonderment in his voice. “Guess it is your kink.” He laughs softly. I open my eyes to see him watching me avidly, like he’s waiting for me to fall apart. “Say please,” he whispers.

My pulse thuds, mirroring the hoofbeats that are coming our way. I’m saved from responding to him by Amy’s voice shouting his name.

“She’ll go away,” Aiden says. His breath is shallow, his pulse pushing at the skin of his throat. His eyes are feral as they rake over me. For one, brief, stomach-twisting second, I think he’s going to keep kissing me.

I can’t allow that to happen.

This isn’t real.

None of this is real. Not his defense of me to Harrison. Not his compliments and the way he calls me his wife. I managed to forget that, but I won’t make that mistake again. I shove out from under his arm.

“Aiden,” she calls again, closer this time as she thunders up to us and halts on the grass. “Oh.” I spy her over his shoulder, surprise and confusion written on her face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” I don’t know what Aiden’s grandfather told her, but discomfort makes my skin feel too hot.

I right my clothes and Aiden watches uncertainly. There’s a pulsing between my legs that is urging me to just let Aiden touch me and ease the ache. I ignore my body and adopt a casual expression as I fix my hair and tuck in my shirt.

“Aiden,” she says again, taking one hesitant step. “We need you to continue the game.”

“Fuck,” he mutters, before he takes a step back. He tugs on his hair, eyes wild, still hard under his breeches. I can see the outline of his erection under the thin fabric, the spot of wetness that’s proof we took things way too far.

“You better go,” I say, with admirable calm. “Your other option is waiting.”

His expression flattens. I can’t read him like this. “You coming?”

Everything inside me clenches. I’m not brave enough to go back there after what happened earlier. I’m not sure I can keep it together well enough to fake a relationship today, anyway.

I’m not one of them and I never will be. I can’t forget that, even if it felt unreasonably good to have Aiden’s mouth on mine.

You have nothing to worry about. You’re my wife, not her.

I’m not, though.

Aiden is going to remarry one day, and it will be to someone like Amy, who I know to be smart and capable, open and friendly. Someone who belongs.

I shake my head. “You don’t need me to keep playing,” I say. “I’m a liability, right?”

His brows draw down, but he doesn’t disagree.

“Aiden,” Amy calls again. “Come on. I need you.”

There’s a hot spike inside my chest. He sees it. Somehow, I know he does.

“Are you okay?” His voice is low with concern.

I don’t want his concern. I want to hate him. I don’t want to be confused. I don’t want to feel jealous.

I can’t do this. I don’t know what’s real and what’s adrenaline, what’s a consequence of faking this relationship and what’s a consequence of Aiden being my weakness.

I fumble blindly for the handle to the garden behind my back. I felt it digging into me as Aiden pressed me into the wall. My nails scrabble over the iron gate.

I have to get away from him.

“Emory. W-wait.” He swallows, frustration evident in the slow inhale he takes and the flare of his nostrils. “Let’s talk. Please.”

I shake my head. I can’t talk. If I talk, I’ll cry. “I don’t need concern from you,” I manage. My voice comes out sharp, and his eyes widen briefly. I can’t help but feel like I’ve slapped him.

He steps forward. “But—”

“She’s waiting, Aiden.”

The handle turns. I take two steps into the garden and slam the door behind me.