He said yes.
I don’t think I can believe that word. He just said it to shock me. I know him well enough to know that. I know he doesn’t want to get married—ever. I just asked him because I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I needed to ask. I need him to know the truth.
“Yes? That’s your answer? Just like that? You don’t even want to have a discussion about it or ask why I am proposing marriage when, only hours ago, I was engaged and going to get married to another man the next day.”
He grins.
Damn it, I hate his grin. It makes me do things I never thought I would. It makes me feel things I shouldn’t. Asher is a dick, an asshole. I have to remember that above everything else. I have to stay strong and not let him influence me. This is just an arrangement to solve my problem, nothing more. That’s what I have to convince him of anyway. Even if my heart flutters much too fast anytime I am around him.
“I’m sure I’ll figure out why you want me to marry you soon enough. I know enough about you to know that there is a very clear reason why. And I know that reason has nothing to do with love. But at least it gives me another shot at fucking you in the shower, on the beach, and on every inch of this place and yours before we are through.”
Damn it.
He grins again, and all I can think about is how much I want him to fuck me in his bed, my bed, and every other surface that we can come across. And I hate him for making me want him when I should still be in love with Wes.
He turns off the water that never really got warm and then hands me a towel from the rack that is just outside the shower. Our fingers brush against each other. And I can see in his eyes how much he wants to dry me off but doesn’t want to overstep his bounds. He thinks he’s pushed his luck already by washing me. And he’s probably right. I need to dry myself off and gain some control over my life again. Especially if we are going to have any sort of serious conversation instead of jumping each other again for the third time in an hour.
I take the towel and quickly dry off before wrapping it around my body. Asher does the same, and then we head back inside his home. I’m still not sure I believe him when he says this is his only place. It can’t be. He says he doesn’t lie, but I don’t imagine he stays here year-round. He uses this place when he is surfing and wants to be near the beach. Or when he’s trying to get rid of his latest one-night stand. But this can’t be where he spends most of his time. There simply isn’t enough room.
I take a seat on what he calls a couch. Although I don’t think it can be considered a couch. It’s barely held together. There are no longer any legs on the bottom, the stuffing has settled so that there is a hole in the middle, and the fabric covering it is worn and contains mostly holes.
Asher goes over to his dresser and pulls out a pair of boxer shorts and a T-shirt. He tosses them both to me and then pulls out another pair of boxer shorts. He drops his towel like I’m not even here and begins to put the boxer shorts on.
I look down at the clothes he just tossed to me. They would be much more comfortable to wear than my dress I came here in, and I can’t stay in this towel forever. But it just seems too intimate to be wearing his clothing.
“What? Don’t tell me you’re getting shy on me now,” Asher says, raising an eyebrow.
I stand and drop my towel to the ground, showing my naked body to him. I’m not the least bit concerned with what he thinks of me or my body. And then I put the clothes on that he tossed to me. I try not to smell his scent on them. I try not to seem affected.
Asher comes over and takes a seat next to me, not seeming the least bit concerned about why I asked him to marry him. Or what our future holds. He slings his arm over the back of the couch.
I smile. I can’t help it when his hand grazes the back of my neck.
“So, let’s hear it. I know you are dying to tell me and to get everything straightened out. I can see it in your eyes. You want to talk about us getting married,” he says.
I take a deep breath. “I do.”
We chuckle, both a bit nervous.
“Well?” he asks.
“I have to get married,” I say.
He chuckles. “I doubt that. You seem more than independent enough, and I know you don’t need a man to keep you company. And you are more than capable of making enough money on your own; therefore, you don’t need a man to take care of you either. And I know calling off the wedding must be embarrassing, but your family and friends will get over it soon enough. So, why in the world would you have to get married?”
I frown. “Fine. I don’t have to get married. But I have a proposition for you. Marry me for one year. It will help me ease the embarrassment of turning down Wes. I could say we used to date years ago and rekindled our love when I found out Wes was really an ass. The company and I could really use some good press. We’ve been struggling to get new donors, and as sexist as it is, the company will get more donations if I have a man by my side. The press thinks I’m going to die alone. They are already comparing me to my grandmother, who spent most of her life living with just her cats.”
Asher laughs. “You’re serious.”
I nod.
“You want me to marry you to save face?”
“Yes.”
“And what do I get out of all of this?”
I think for a moment. “A chance to become a better person instead of a thief who tries to steal women who are already taken.”
He frowns, and I can see that it’s not enough.
“And you can teach me how to live again. How to enjoy life and be a bit of a wild child again instead of the uptight snob I currently am.”
Asher chuckles again. “You, a wild child? I don’t believe it’s possible for you to have been anything but the perfect child growing up.”
I shake my head. “Well then, you’d be wrong. I was a complete wild child, always getting into trouble. Trust me.”
“I doubt you were a true wild child. I imagine your parents thought that because you wouldn’t eat your vegetables or something silly like that.”
“No, it was much worse than that. Anyway, my grandmother was the one who convinced me that I shouldn’t continue my wild ways into adulthood. She gave me a job at the company, and I finally realized my purpose. I worked my way up the company, almost the same as anyone else. Although I know I was given an easier time than most since I was related to my grandmother.”
“Why would I want to help you? I still don’t see anything in this for me.”
“Money then. I’ll pay you. You could actually live in a nice place on the beach.”
He grins. “Sweetheart, you forget that I make plenty of money. And I prefer living this way.”
“That’s not what I’ve heard. I’ve heard that your sponsors are starting to drop out because of a certain reputation you have with the ladies. They think it’s inappropriate to work with someone like you. So, being married might help your reputation and help you make more money.”
He shakes his head. “Again, like I said, I don’t need any more money.”
But I can see that he is at least thinking about what I said. I’ve struck a nerve, but it’s still not enough.
I look around the room he calls home. I doubt he’s telling me the full story about this. But I can see I’m getting nowhere.
His eyes drop to my chest to see my nipples harden as a cold draft slips through. Now, it’s my turn to grin because I know the way to get what I want.
“Sex. You can have all the dirty, filthy sex with me you want.”
His eyes perk up as he listens. And I can see the bulge in his boxers grow.
“Did you ever love Wes?”
His question surprises me.
“Love is a strange word. I loved him, sure. But was I in love with him? No, I don’t think so. I would have ended it much sooner if I wasn’t so much of a planner that I wanted to be married by twenty-five and have two kids by the time I was thirty.”
He frowns.
“I don’t want to have kids with you. I just don’t want to feel like a complete failure when I do turn twenty-five next month. I want to be married and have that experience. If, after you, I still don’t find my happily ever after with a man, then I’ll be fine with adopting or getting artificial insemination.”
Asher frowns, thinking.
“I know that we are the absolute worst match for each other and that this is going to be mostly about sex, but I need that right now. I need to be married. I need to not be shamed by my family. I need sex.”
I fidget with the hem of the shirt I’m wearing, where it is already starting to unravel. It’s obviously a shirt that he wears often.
“So, what do you say? Can we come to an agreement? Will you marry me?” I don’t add that it’s the least he can do after he broke up my wedding, but I’m not afraid to sound desperate.
Asher chuckles. “I already said yes. But I will say it again if the first time didn’t do enough to convince you. Yes, I’ll marry you. I’ll give you whatever you want. Just…” He pauses, trying to think of the right words.
“Just don’t expect you to stick around forever?”
He nods.
“Fine. I’ll have my lawyer draw up a prenup to protect us both, and then we can get married anytime after that. I don’t want a big affair. I just want the legal marriage so that I can face the world again. But you will have to stay loyal to me. I don’t do cheating even if this is a temporary arrangement. It won’t last forever anyway. I expect, after a year, we can quietly divorce, and I can marry someone else and have a kid or two.”
“I would never cheat on you.”
I raise an eyebrow. “That’s not what I’ve heard. I’ve heard you have cheated on plenty of women.”
He scoots closer to me on the couch. “I. Don’t. Cheat. On. Anyone. And. Especially. Not. You. Occasionally, women I have been with cheat on their husbands or fiancés with me, but I never do the cheating.”
“I didn’t cheat on Wes, if that is what you are implying. I broke up with him first.”
He smiles. “I’m not calling you a cheater either.”
“Have you ever been in a committed relationship with a woman before?” I ask.
He laughs. “Of course I have. What do you think I’ve been doing these last few weeks? I’ve been committed to you.”
“To breaking me and Wes up.”
He nods and leans back a little, like he’s preparing for me to slap him. And, although I’ve had the urge to do just that many times in the past, I don’t have the urge at the moment.
Maybe it’s because he just gave me two of the best orgasms of my life. Maybe it’s because, when this conversation is over, I want to see if he has anything else up his sleeve.
Whatever the reason, I no longer feel like slapping him, but I don’t want to let him know that. I like that he feels like he should always be on alert when he’s around me. I like having that control.
“Do you have anything planned for tomorrow?” I ask.
“Other than having you tied up in my bed all day, I don’t have anything on the agenda.”
I smile. “Good. You can do that—after we get married.”
He grins and then leans forward and kisses me, letting me know he’s ready for another round if I am.
But all I can think is, I can’t believe my crazy plan is working. Now, the only thing I need to do to keep this plan working is to not fall in love with him. That should be easy, right?