Chapter Four

SAMANTHA

The wedding was bearable, and the brunch afterward was pleasant, except for the food. Nathaniel, Ashlyn, and Freya all contributed and made small talk so Jori and I wouldn't have to.

Our friends and family wouldn't be around to help us forever.

When everything was over, Nathaniel and Ashlyn headed back to the Dream; they were going straight home. Their daughter Kathryn was waiting for them. Mrs. Morley, Nathaniel's housekeeper, was watching her, but Ashlyn didn't like to leave her baby for more than a few hours. Yesterday. Kathryn had seemed to be getting sick. Being away from her baby for so long was making Ashlyn crazy with worry. We said a reluctant good-bye to each other. They headed back to their ship, and my husband and I went back to his apartment.

I had changed out of the dress, which meant I had to put away the sexy stockings. Jori asked me if I wanted to go for a walk in the park. I said yes without even thinking about it. As we headed to the park, we discovered a problem. We were alone, and we were hard-pressed to find topics of conversation.

An unexpected awkwardness existed between us after the wedding. I wasn't sure what to do with the silence. It was going to be a long, quiet year if we couldn't have a simple conversation together.

Jori broke the silence first. "I wanted to talk about some ground rules," he said as we arrived at the park.

Aha! He wanted to lay down the law. Well, I had some rules of my own he needed to know.

"Sure," I said. "We need to know where we stand with each other."

"Okay," he said. "First of all, you need to understand that you're to be my wife in name only. So rule number one is no sex between us."

I shook my head. "Get your mind out of the gutter. Why would I want to have sex with you in the first place?"

He had the grace to look sheepish.

"I was expecting to be a paper bride. But let's be honest with each other. We're adults, not teenagers. After the last kiss, do you think it's possible for us to live together for a year without being intimate?"

"It's possible for me."

I guess TerraMates wasted their one-year birth control shot on me. "But why?" I asked. His position didn't make sense to me. "We're both adults, and attracted to each other."

I looked at his face quickly. He gave me a nod.

"Why are we making this year harder than it has to be? No pun intended."

He turned and started walking again. "I've found that sex leads to emotional entanglement for women, and the last thing I want is for you to lower your guard around me."

"I'm a woman, and I think I know how to handle my emotions." I frowned. "And it seems more likely that you would become emotional about me. I've seen the way you act around your brother and sister."

He snorted derisively, but his eyebrows drew together as if the thought hadn't occurred to him.

"I have no desire to fall for handsome, sexy Jori, and then be booted out on my ass in three hundred and sixty-five days, okay? No, thank you. I want to keep my heart free and clear, just like you do. But that doesn't mean we can't have fun."

He shook his head, not looking at me.

"That's short-term thinking. It will make everything hard..." he trailed off and gave me a wry glance. "It will make everything more difficult, Sam."

"Okay," I said. "Then I have an amendment to that rule. No sex with other people. If we're not having sex with each other, we're not having sex with anyone."

"Of course not," he said. Jori looked insulted. "I wouldn't cheat on you."

"It's going to be a long year," I muttered under my breath. "I had not expected to be celibate for a year after I got married, but so be it. Do you have any other requests?" I felt relieved we were getting parameters set up for our relationship, even if they were rigid boundaries.

"There are areas of my life I would prefer to keep to myself. Do not push me if I say I can't tell you about something."

"We all have secrets, Jori."

"Not like me." He looked grave and I had to stifle a laugh. What kind of secrets would an ex-con have that might interest me? Did he think he was a secret agent or something?

"Okay. I won't bug you about your top-secret activities."

"The common living spaces have to be kept tidy."

"If I knew I was going to make a list, I would have brought a piece of paper. Anything else?"

We had made a complete loop of the park and were walking back up his street towards the apartment building.

"Only one more thing, sorry," he said. He stopped walking and turned towards me. "If we're together, and someone attacks me, don't try to help me. Run as fast as you can to a police station and get help. Don't be a hero."

"Why would anyone attack you?"

"I was in jail, remember? Not everyone was my best friend."

Great. He joined a gang in jail, and someone had a vendetta against him. I could easily imagine Jori pissing off someone with his cocky attitude. I hoped no one would try to get back at him through his wife.

"Can you promise me, Sam?"

"This will be the easiest commandment to keep. If you are subject to a deadly attack, I will not put myself in harm's way to assist you. Instead, I will save myself and race for help."

"This isn't a joke, Samantha." he said. He looked directly into my eyes. Was he worried I didn't understand a simple order?

"I get it, Jori. You've got a big ass boyfriend from jail who's pissed at you. I'm not a fighter," I told him.

He nodded. "Good. That's all I wanted."

"I have one more, though."

"What's that?" he said.

"We try to be civil with each other. We're not going to be bed buddies, and we're clearly not going to be friends. But we can be polite and respectful. And we can make small talk, so this year doesn't turn into a nightmare."

"Small talk?" he said, sounding incredulous. "I'm not good at small talk."

I grinned at him. "The ability to learn is what separates us from animals."

JORI

We had our first fight three days later.

It took longer than I expected. I thought we'd be at each other's throats on the first day due to sexual frustration. To keep my cool, I worked out like a demon and stayed away from her as much as I could. I wondered how I was going to do this for an entire year. We had to live together. The parole board was never going to believe our marriage was happy unless we cohabitated.

The fight happened late in the evening. It was another hot night, and Sam was reading on the couch. Her presence wasn't a problem. Her clothing drove me insane.

She had on a pair of cute blue shorts that barely covered her butt, a T-shirt that was tight enough to display ample breasts, and she wasn't wearing a bra. Why did she bring clothes like this from Earth? She should have brought clothes that were too large for her.

When I walked in the door, coming back from another run to cool my libido, the first thing I saw was her chest. My eyes locked on to that part of her body, probably because I couldn't stop thinking about them.

"Hi Jori," she said, getting up off the couch and going into the kitchen. She poured herself a glass of water and came back and sat down.

I didn't think "Hi Jori" could sound seductive, but Samantha was able to drip sex into her voice. My plan to ignore her body wasn't working. When I looked at her, appearing so damn sexy without even trying, I snapped.

"Sam," I said. I barked her name, and she jumped.

"What's the matter with you?" she said. Her eyes flashed with anger. She looked at me as if I had grown horns. "What's your problem?"

"What's my problem?" I asked, pacing back and forth in front of her. "You're breaking rule number one."

She rolled her eyes. "There are too many damn rules," she said. "And I'm not breaking any of them. Rule number one is no sex with anyone. I am currently not having sex with anyone. I would know. How am I in violation?"

"Okay, okay," I said, backing off a little. "Then rule number one requires another amendment if I'm going to stay rational for this year."

"Really," she said, looking at me with a challenge in her eyes. "What's that?"

"You have to stop wearing those tiny outfits."

"You can't tell me what to wear," she said, looking at me like I was crazy. Maybe I was. "It's summer on a tropical planet. We're in the Southern Isles, the warmest part of the globe. It's hot here, Jori. I'm not going to put on a snowsuit, no matter how much my body distracts you."

He blushed. "What's a snowsuit?" he asked, confused by my Earth reference.

"It's a thick one-piece coat that covers you from neck to ankles and keeps you warm in cold weather."

"No way," he said. His face was shocked.

"You have no idea how good you have it on this planet, Jori. You should see winter back where I come from."

"We're getting off topic, Sam."

Did I have a reason that made sense? Why shouldn't she wear clothes like that?

"It's hot, Jori. This is my home too, isn't it? I should be able to wear whatever I want."

"But you're not wearing a bra," I said. My weak voice sounded feeble to my ears. Damn it. I was supposed to be a husband. I was supposed to dictate the rules of the house to her.

Something wasn't working here.

"If I don't want to wear a bra, I don't have to. No law restricts my clothing inside the home. Or is there such a law?"

"No, there's not a law," I said, clenching my teeth together. "But give this Vandwan a break, Sam. I'm going crazy."

I felt my shoulders slump. The past three days had been difficult. How was I ever going to abide by rule number one?

"Jori, I'm sorry about that, but it's hot and I'll wear whatever I want. It's your stupid edict," she said, glancing at my bare chest. I had taken off my shirt on the stairs. Running warmed me up enough so I couldn't bear the small amount of fabric on my body.

She was right. It was sweltering, and we were in the middle of a heat wave. I shouldn't expect her to conform to a non-sexy dress code. Besides, she made old T-shirts and faded jeans look sexy, and I couldn't make her wear bags for a year.

She stood up and stalked over to me. She moved into my personal space and got in my face.

"You made the rule," she said, and I imagined that I felt her nipples brushing my chest. Surely she wasn't that close. "You live with it."

I inhaled and caught a whiff of an unusual scent. I had seen bottles of essential oils in her room when I helped her with the window. The scent was alluring, but I didn't want to move. I was afraid if I did, I'd grab her and steal a kiss. I imagined it would end up with her on her back and her legs wrapped around me.

I drew in a shaky breath and tried to erase the image from my mind. My brain had painted a picture that I couldn't forget. She smiled faintly and stepped back.

"I'm going to bed," she said. "Sleep well."

"Good night," I croaked out. I watched her silently, remaining completely still until her perfect ass swayed into the bathroom.

When she disappeared from my sight, I gave myself permission to move. It was impossible for me to pounce on her now. It had been a mistake to get her upset. She might dress more provocatively now. It didn't matter what she wore. She would be sexy in a sack.

I heard the bathroom door open and the door to her room close, giving me an opportunity to use the bathroom without encountering her. I took an ice-cold shower. It didn't help me at all. I needed to relieve the pressure building up inside me. My hand had been getting quite a workout since she moved in.

I turned the water back to its normal temperature and grabbed myself. Soon I was coming, but it was not fulfilling. I knew it was nothing like what it would be if I were inside of her. Her willing attitude tortured me. All I had to do was walk through the door, and I believed she would spread her legs for me. From the way she looked at me, she wanted me as badly as I wanted her.

I had set up the rules for a reason. They were to protect her. It would be easier for us to go our separate ways at the end if we had never touched. I knew that, intellectually. But my body had different ideas. I climbed out of the shower and wrapped a towel around my waist, wandering my way to the bed.

I was behaving honorably. Maybe there was another way. I could get a transfer and be required to move for work reasons. If we lived in different cities, she would be easier to resist.

And the parole board couldn't find fault with that, could they? I was trying to advance and support my new wife. There was a legitimate reason for living apart. I needed to get as far away from Samantha as possible.

I clutched my head in my hands. What had I done to myself?