Page 9 of The Pucking Fake Marriage (The Ice Kings #4)

EIGHT

A MARRIAGE OF INCONVENIENCE (CHARLIE)

The worst is finally over. Now all I can do is wait.

Hopefully for the earth to open up and swallow me whole because this is quite literally the most mortifying experience of my life.

I’m too scared to look up at Ken and see the reaction on his face, so I focus my attention on his feet. He’s pacing . Walking up and down the length of his living room, periodically disappearing from my view. Rage is brimming from his every pore, hot and barely restrained.

This is bad. Really bad.

For a second, I regret coming to confess. I should’ve ignored Haley’s advice. I told her that I’d rather die than do that, and I meant it. But seven days later, Haley was still moping around our apartment because she had nothing to do. I’d also fielded three calls from my mom and one from my dad. I realized that this is not just about me. I’ve got people counting on me.

I can’t let them down.

So before I could talk myself out of it, I got a cab and came over here. I had to call Ken’s mom for his address, which was an awkward conversation. At the very least, I wasn’t dealing with disappointing her, too.

Well, not yet.

And now I’m here. Watching Ken take in the news that he’s a married man. My husband. It’s hard to predict what his reaction is going to be. There’s a disconnect between the Ken I knew and this Ken. Sure, the teen Ken surprised me at times, particularly at the end of our friendship, but I still knew him inside out. Enough to have a firm idea of what he’d say if I ever put him in an awkward situation.

But this man, the one who had me beg him to fuck me, and then left me wanting for no apparent reason, is unreadable. He could do anything, and I still wouldn’t be surprised.

“You came to Las Vegas to trick me into marrying you.”

My head shoots up. His eyes are red-rimmed, and there’s a distant look in them. I’d pored over hundreds of pictures and videos of Ken when I was hatching my plan. I’ve seen that look before. Many times, in fact, when Ken’s playing hockey.

It’s the one he wears when he’s about to attack.

“Yes.” There’s no use sugarcoating it. Not when I still need his help.

He comes closer, stopping in front of me so that there’s barely any space between us. His anger burns off him and makes my stomach crumple.

“I’m going to take a guess and say this is about saving your restaurant.”

It’s my turn to be thrown off course. “How do you know that?”

His upper lip twitches unpleasantly. “Because you don’t give up anything without a fight. If you were willing to find me, then trick me into marrying you, you saw yourself reaping a benefit.”

His tone is smug, self-assured. He sounds like he knows me better than I know myself. I hate that.

Mostly because it puts us on unequal footing. Ken is unpredictable, and yet, he’s still able to read me like an open book.

“I didn’t marry you just to save my restaurant.” It’s the truth, but I only mention it as a weak attempt to stamp down his smugness.

He cocks his head to one side, his blue eyes gleaming. “No, of course you didn’t. No doubt there’s a virtuous or noble reason in there somewhere. But it doesn’t change the fact that you tracked me down because you wanted to use me. Your virtuousness and goodwill don’t extend to me, do they?”

My cheeks burn with a mix of guilt and embarrassment. “Are you saying I took advantage of you?”

“Haven’t you?” He crosses his arms, his blue eyes narrowed to slits. “You literally fucked me because you were dead set on saving your restaurant.”

My cheeks burn even brighter. “You liked it.”

He curves his head over mine, almost eliminating the tiny space between us. “Doesn’t excuse that you played me.”

Heat spills over from my cheeks into my very core. I’m scrambling to defend myself, to register as less of an asshole than he’s making me out to be. “I didn’t fuck you for the marriage certificate.” My voice sounds jerky, out of control. “I wasn’t even planning on it until…”

Ken’s voice is so quiet that I barely hear it. “I know.”

I look up at his face, thrown back by his change in tone. He no longer looks furious. Instead, there’s a glimmer of victory in his eyes.

A sickening feeling rises in my gut.

Ken just goaded me into admitting that I wanted him for him. That’s why he started this inquisition. Not because he was pissed off for being duped. Only because he wanted to flex even more power over me.

I hate him. I hate , hate him.

“Fuck you,” I spit, as his lips tease into a full grin. His eyes are still red-rimmed. There’s a part of him that’s upset by what I did, but I can tell he’s going to enjoy this small victory.

I turn around, set on leaving. I was wrong to think I could do this. No way am I going to stand in front of this man and ask for his help.

Ken’s hand closes around my wrist before I can complete a full arc. In a second, he’s whisked me into his apartment and shut the door behind me.

It happens too fast for me to react. But in the next moment, I’m trying to force my wrist from his grip. He holds on even tighter, his grin slipping off his face and his eyes burning crimson.

“I’m going to lay out what you did, and you’ll tell me if I’m missing anything.” His tone, hard and dead, sends chills through my spine.

My wrist goes limp in his grasp. I’m reminded more forcefully that this man is a stranger, and I’ve no idea what he’s planning to do with me. The only way to get out of this with some dignity is to stay silent. To not let him trap me again. Either with my words or my deeds. My cheeks burn as I remember caving back at the gym.

He got me to beg him once before.

It’s not going to happen again .

He doesn’t react to my sudden submission. Instead, he continues speaking like he’s always had it. “First, you decide that you need a marriage to fix whatever’s going on in your life. Then , you decide that I’m the perfect candidate. You track me down in Las Vegas, get me drunk…”

“We were both drunk.”

He ignores me. “And then, you bank on your body and the fact that as an athlete, I don’t drink all that often to make me forget that we got hitched. You come back to Philly and decide to never see me again, till kismet delivers you into my lap. And now, you’re here to tell the truth because something about your plan is not working out as you envisioned it.”

He does know me. He wasn’t exaggerating.

Shame claws up my throat. My plan sounds terribly silly when laid out like that. It also sounds like I deserve every bad thing that happened to me that threw my plan off course.

“Why would you think something is not working out?” I ask, vying for time.

His blue eyes are merciless. “Because you don’t like me, Charlotte. You never would’ve admitted to this if you didn’t absolutely have to.”

I swallow hard. If I didn’t know already how much of a mess my life was, this conversation would clue me in on it. Having to come back to Ken to request his help…I can’t get lower than that on the failure scale.

“I didn’t use my body to distract you.” That’s the only leg I have to stand on, and I’m going to keep using it. Even if it means I’m falling deeper into his trap and admitting that I want him.

“Didn’t you?” His voice is lower. He pulls me flush against him. “ Don’t you, Charlie? Because I’ve got a feeling that you put a lot more thought into the dress that you chose to wear today than any other decision you’ve made lately.”

Goosebumps rise on my arms as my breath hitches in my throat. Damn it. Damn him to hell.

I want to deny it so badly, but I can’t.

Because he’s right.

I was determined to not doll up for him. But then, I saw this dress in my closet. For a moment, I imagined Ken peeling it off me.

That thought was enough to inform my decision.

I don’t want to fuck him. But for some insane reason, I don’t want to know that’s off the table completely, either.

“I’m not…” I start, unsure of what I’m about to say. Defend myself? Reiterate the fact that I want him, regardless of my plan?

There’s no need to, however, because his free hand finds my breast, his thumb brushing across it. Pleasure grips me in its throes. A moan rips from me, both nipples beading instantly. I’m suddenly filled with the intense urge to have him touch me more.

“No bra,” he mutters in my ear, causing the hairs on my neck to stand and sending my skin tingling. “Damnit, Chapman, are you playing this game for me, or for yourself?”

Myself, I think instantly. I’m the clear loser in this game. In all of this. Wanting Ken to notice me, to want me, even after what he did when we were kids.

He spins me around, his palms finding my waist, steadying me. I feel him hard and pressing against the layer of his pants. I collapse against him, unable to keep myself standing a moment longer. Ken supports my weight, leaning down for the hem of my dress, pulling it over my thighs and hips, until its bunched at my waist. It’s exactly what I imagined him doing when I put it on. That thought makes a shiver run through me. I’m suddenly aware of how wet I am, how the string of my underwear has been sucked into my throbbing, swollen lips.

Ken corrects that immediately, pushing the panties down my hips and thighs. I step out of them numbly, barely aware of what I’m doing, only knowing that he has to keep touching me.

Ken steps up beside me and rubs his dick against my ass cheeks. Another moan slips off my lips. The pleasure is blinding, obstructing thoughts of Haley and my parents. Obstructing thoughts of the game I’ve been playing with Ken too, and the fact that I wanted to win.

I’m now playing to lose, I realize, and I like it.

Ken groans, his palms leaving my waist to cup my breasts. “What do you want?” His tone is heated and angry.

You, I think instantly. Still, I force myself to snap out of it and focus on why I’m really here.

“Papers,” I hear myself mutter. He’s rubbing up against me again, turning me into a damn marshmallow, warm and gooey in his arms. I lose my train of thought again, my back bending forward so I can rub against him, relieving some of the tension pounding through my body.

Ken lets out an appreciative grunt as I move my hips in slow, circular motions. His palm comes down on the small of my back, pushing me to go even lower. Something about his grunt seeps into me, gladdening me to my very core.

I want to please him, watch him come undone for me.

I hate myself for my weakness, but I can’t stop myself.

He’s stronger than I ever imagined. He doesn’t pull himself out to claim me. Instead, he dry humps me, going as far as he can with his clothes on. I feel myself unravel, my arousal easing the friction against his pants, letting me feel more of him .

Not enough, though. Not nearly enough.

“What papers?”

It takes me a second to realize what he’s asking about—I’m that lost in the moment. “I need to prove that we’re really married.” I’m almost glad that we’re grinding against each other as I speak. It would’ve been far harder to say those words if we were in any other position. To actually admit that I needed his help.

Ken curses. He’s as frustrated as I am, I can tell. He wants to be inside me. But he’s also holding back. He pulls back from me, and I slam my lips together to stop myself from crying out in protest.

It doesn’t matter though, because a second later, his fingers fill me up, exploring. I moan loudly. It’s not the kind of touch I want, but I’ll take anything at this point. And this isn’t anything, I admit a second later. Ken’s fingers are so large, so filling, that my tension seeps out the second he pushes them in. His fingers are big enough to sate me, but they also fill me with a pressing need. One where I’m desperate to experience all of him. More pleasure bursts within me as moans slip from my lips, unrestrained.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” I’m aware of the fact that he’s leaning backward now, watching himself as he toys with me. He digs even deeper, his movements lacking subtlety or gentleness. Exactly the way I want him. The harshness to his movements brings a twinge of satisfaction that belies our rough past. We can barely stand each other, and this is all just animal magnetism. Two humans sexually frustrating and satisfying each other all at once.

Fitting, really.

“How do I prove that?”

I close my eyes against the surge of pleasure, trying to pick my next words carefully. “Bank statements. Utility bills.”

He stops moving. A second later, he’s pulled his fingers out of me. Desperation rises inside me, and suddenly, I’m crushing my back against his front, moving my hips as I grind myself against him.

It’s like I can’t exist without feeling some part of him on me. I’d been celibate for years before Ken reappeared in my life, and yet, this feels natural. So natural, I can’t even feel shame at my wantonness.

“Utility bills.” His voice is hard, foreign. He grates his hips against mine one last time. A final sound of pleasure bursts from me before he moves away. “You want us to live together.”

Live together .

My ecstasy fizzles into nothingness in that moment.

I knew, of course, that would have to happen. In theory, at least. But I’ve not thought much of it actually happening. What it would mean to live with him, day in and day out. To continuously struggle with everything I feel for him—resentment and desire mashed together.

Ken asks the question that’s running through my mind.

“Really think you can handle that?”

No, I think. It’s the honest answer.

If I’m going to live with him, it will be a couple of months of hot sex day in and day out. And then one day, I’ll have to pack my bags and go back to living with Haley. Plus, deal with the fact that I let Ken have me. Hell, maybe that I begged him for it one too many times.

I’m never going to be able to live with myself knowing that happened, after I spent the last ten years avoiding him.

No doubt Ken would shut me out of his life forever. He’d get way more from the deal than was fair. A woman who spurned him now crawling into bed with him, needing him sexually and financially. It’s the stuff of revenge porn.

I turn around, pulling my dress downward. An icy tension has seeped into the room, one that makes it difficult to remember we were grinding on each other mere moments ago. Only my panties, tossed aside on the floor, give any inkling to the fact that it happened.

Ken has his arms folded. He doesn’t seem any more interested in touching me than I am. He’s waiting for an answer.

To delay my response, I look around his apartment. Lavish doesn’t even begin to describe it. It’s a minimalist bachelor pad, sure, but it’s also one of the chicest living rooms I’ve been in. Wide, airy space, an L-shaped gray couch, several potted plants around the corners of the house, floor-to-ceiling windows that take up an entire wall.

Just like the kind of apartment I’d like to live in with Haley. The kind I promised her we’ll get when I fix the mess that is our business.

Folding my arms across my chest, I watch as Ken settles his gaze on my erect nipples. My cheeks burn again, and I try to ignore the throbbing between my legs.

I managed to pick myself up ten years ago, after that disastrous fall. If I could do that, then I can keep my hands off Ken for a couple of months. Especially since my whole life depends on it.

“I can handle it.”

He’s waiting. Wanting me to explain further.

I look up at him, stashing whatever nervousness I feel deep in my gut. “I need your help. I’ll have to live with you for a while. Pay some bills and gather enough documentation. I’m looking to apply for a loan at the bank. And then we can get an annulment and go our separate ways. ”

The corners of his lips are turned up in a smirk. “What would our marriage look like, then? You seem to have it all figured out.”

I ignore the jibe. “If you’re going to help me…”

“You say those words more like a threat and less like a request.”

Fury flows through my veins, burning through what’s left of my desire. He’s waiting for me to actually grovel at his feet before he agrees.

“You’ve some stipulations, I take it?” he says now, as I fight to gain control of my anger. “Something about us sleeping in different bedrooms or me never touching you?”

I swallow. It’s humiliating to have to stand on that ground after what just happened. But I don’t back down. “That would probably make sense.”

His smirk turns into a full-on grin. He takes a step closer to me, tramping on my underwear. I fight the urge to back away. Reaching out with a finger, he brushes one of my nipples. I grit my teeth together, trying my hardest to not make a sound. Moving even closer, he cups one of my ass cheeks, pulling me in.

He’s smothering me in his heat. I moan, a loud, throaty sound that wrenches itself from my mouth without warning.

Ken’s grin is at its widest. “What do you suggest we do when this happens, then? When I touch you and you beg me to be inside you?”

Damn.

He did it again . Teased me just so I’d humiliate myself by admitting I want him. That’s what he planned to do since I first walked into his apartment. And I’d stupidly allowed him to do that.

A second time .

That’s why he didn’t just have sex with me outright. In some weird, twisted way, this is all a game to him. One where he gets to capitalize on the fact that my body wants him, all so he can keep taunting me.

He’s never going to help me.

All he wants to do is to keep toying with me.

I shove at him, hard. He stumbles enough for me to take a step back. Humiliation burns in my face and neck, and tears of rage are tickling the back of my eyelids.

The trepidation I felt when I stepped into his apartment is nothing compared to what I feel now.

“You’re right.” It’s hard saying those words to him, but I get a glimmer of satisfaction, watching his eyes widen in surprise and uncertainty. “I won’t be able to hold up my end of the deal. I’ll find another way to solve my issues.”

His smile slips off his lips.

Good, I think. I’d rather take Confused Ken than Smug Ken, any day, any time.

Holding onto that tiny hint of gratification, I storm out of his apartment.