The Kiss Thief
“Huh?” She still gardened, not even bothering to look up.
“We’re going to my cabin on Lake Michigan tomorrow for the weekend. Getting some rest is clearly not on your agenda, so I’m making it.”
She twisted her head to watch me, squinting at the sun and using one of her hands as a visor from it. “It’s no trouble. I’m not hurt, Wolfe.”
“You look like you’ve been beaten up, and people are especially good at speculating. I need to get you out of town.” It was only partly true. Having my new wife parade her banged-up face in public was less than ideal, sure. But I didn’t want any company other than her, either. Sterling was always sniffing around us, and Smithy was a general pain in the ass. In addition, Bishop wasn’t wrong. I did not, in fact, have any friends. Distancing myself from my enemies for a couple days wasn’t the worst idea I’d had. I needed a breather, and, quite frankly, Nem was the only person I could somehow tolerate right now.
“I have a lot of homework,” she said.
“Take it with you.”
“I’d hate to leave Ms. Sterling alone.”
“She’ll have security stay with her. We’re leaving alone.”
“That’s against protocol.”
“Fuck protocol.”
There was silence. She was chewing her lip, which meant she was trying to come up with another obstacle.
“You can drive a portion of the way to the cabin,” I offered, sweetening her deal. She perked just as I knew she would. Her experience with Bandini’s assholes did not deter her from learning. It was part of the reason why I couldn’t hate her. Not even if I tried. She was driven, and the best part was that she didn’t even know it about herself.
“Really?” Her eyes shimmered with excitement. Clear blue like the summer sky. “Even after what happened?”
“Especially after what happened. You aced it. How’s your forehead?”
“It looks worse than it feels.”
It looks beautiful.
Of course, uttering those words wasn’t an option. I turned around toward the balcony, retreating from the garden and my wife. When I reached the glass doors, I stopped, stealing one last glance at her again. She was crouching back down, resuming her work.
“You won’t have to worry about them anymore,” I said.
“Them?” She blinked. The list was growing by the second. First, her father, then the Bandinis.
“Every asshole who ever had the faintest idea to hurt you.”
I went into my office and locked myself there for the rest of the night, not trusting myself to go to her room for my nightly feast on her without sleeping next to her. As it was, I had a control issue.
I lacked it.
She had all of it.
IT TOOK ME AN ENTIRE hour to unwind behind the wheel.
Not only did I worry about ruining Wolfe’s precious Jaguar—the flashbacks from Bandini’s guys slamming into the Cadillac from behind as they chased me—but I also didn’t feel overly comfortable around my husband. After spending the night with me, he hadn’t come to my room last night. We were going to his lake house. Was he planning on sleeping in different rooms there, too? Frankly, I wouldn’t put it past him. I had no one to advise me about our situation. Cosmo and Marie Claire, my only sources of relationship advice, didn’t exactly cover the subject of an arranged marriage with cruel, severely emotionally stunted senators in the twenty-first century.
Ms. Sterling was biased. She’d tell me anything I wanted to hear to ensure that I was happy with my husband. My mother was too busy trying to save her own marriage, and Clara was the closest thing to a grandmother I’d ever had, so, yeah, gross.
I could call Andrea, but I feared becoming a charity case at this point.
Always disoriented. Forever clueless.
That left me to stew in my thoughts all the way to the cabin on Lake Michigan. When Wolfe called it a cabin, I thought he meant somewhere quaint and modest. In practice, it was a luxurious estate, crafted from rock and glass, boasting an outdoor hot tub, a direct view of the lake, elevated, wooden balconies, and an architecturally mesmerizing rustic charm. It was tucked among cherry trees and lush, green hills, far enough from civilization without having that eerie air. My heart swelled at the prospects of spending time with my husband so far away from everyone. But mixed with the excitement was a dash of fear.
“I feel another string of Nemesis questions coming my way.” Wolfe was sitting cross-legged on the passenger seat, flipping my Zippo between his strong fingers. I munched on my lower lip, tapping my thumbs against the wheel.
“Have you ever been in love?”
“What kind of question is that?”
“One I’d like an answer to.”
He paused. “No. I’ve never been in love. Have you?”
I thought about Angelo. Then I thought about all the things I’d gone through because of my love for Angelo. I didn’t know how I felt about him anymore, but I knew that lying to my husband out of fear was going to put me squarely in the same place my mother was struggling with right now.
“Yes.”
“Hurts like hell, doesn’t it?” He smiled to the view outside his window.
“Yes,” I agreed.
“That’s why I refrain from the feeling,” he said.
“But it also felt good when it was requited.”
He turned around to face me. “No love is fully requited. No love is equal. No love is fair. There is always one side that loves more. And you better not be that side—because it suffers.”
Silence stretched until we parked the car outside of the so-called cabin.
“But you”—he turned to me, smirking—“you’re smarter than to yield to your love.”
I don’t love Angelo anymore, you fool, I wanted to scream. I love you.
“Which is why I respect you,” he added.
“You respect me?”
He got out, rounded the car, and opened my door for me. “If you’re into milking things, I’d love for it to be my cock and not simply for compliments. You know I respect you, Nem.”
The fridge in the cabin had been stocked with everything good and tasty. Freshly baked French buns sat on the counter. I wolfed down two, with local strawberry jam and chunky peanut butter. Wolfe hopped into the shower, and I did the same after him. Then he stuffed a six-pack of beer and a handful of individually wrapped brownies into my backpack and ordered me to join him for a walk. My forehead was still sore, my lip kept on opening every time I smiled, and I found out that my ribs must’ve bruised when I was put on the gurney, but I complied nonetheless.
I began to second-guess our mutual decision not to take a honeymoon together when he threw my girly bag over his shoulder and led me to a paved, concrete path surrounded by wild grass that whooshed in the cool breeze of the evening. The wind and the lake provided a sound more pleasurable than any symphony, and the view was a spectacular shade of purple and pink sunset diving into rolling hills. We walked for twenty minutes before I noticed another wooden cabin up the hill from where we were.
“What’s there?” I pointed at the cabin.
He moved a hand over his thick, dark hair. “Do I look like a tour guide?”
“You look like a sour man, Senator,” I taunted. He laughed.
“We could check.”
“Could we? I don’t want to trespass.”
“Such a law-abiding citizen. If only your father would share the virtue.”
“Hey.” I frowned. He flicked me under the chin lightly. The gesture was growing on me. Especially paired with the fact that I no longer believed that Wolfe didn’t have feelings for me. Not after the way he held me the day of the car chase.
“Sterling keeps telling me to stop doing that. Bunching you and your father together, I mean. It’s hard.”
“Do you do it often?” I winced as he took my hand and tugged me up the hill.
“Not lately.”
“And why is that?” I asked.
“Because you’re polar opposites.”
As we went uphill, my breathing became more ragged. I was determined to make conversation to avert my thoughts from the fact I was definitely not in shape. I neglected my horse-riding sessions in favor of school. Plus, I did have a question burning on the tip of my tongue.
“Are you willing to tell me why you hate my father so much now?”
“No. You can feel free to stop asking right now because the day I’ll be ready to share this with you is never.”
“You’re so unfair.” I allowed myself a sulk.
“I never claimed to be. At any rate, the answer isn’t something you’d like to know.”
“But maybe I do. Maybe it’d give me peace with the fact that he disowned me.”
He stopped in front of what wasn’t a cabin but a red and white barn. “The fact that he gave up his precious gem just because I touched it is enough reason as to why he doesn’t deserve you.”
“And you do?” I asked.
“But, my darling, that’s the difference between me and your father. I never pretended to deserve you. I simply took you.”
I threw an arm over the barn’s wooden gate, shaking my head. “That’s definitely trespassing, Wolfe. I’m not going in.”
He jumped over the fence, making his way inside the barn without looking back. There was fresh hay scattered by the doors, and by the scent of moist soil and what my riding instructor liked to call road apples (horse poop) floating in the air, I knew livestock were inside.
I heard Wolfe whistling from the depth of the open barn, clucking his tongue.
“She’s a beauty.”
“It’s been two seconds since you left my side, and you’re already flirting,” I called out. The smile on my face hurt my cheeks. The sound of his throaty, gruff laughter filled the air. I pressed my thighs together, something empty inside me aching to finally let him in. I could have sex with him tonight. God, I wanted to have sex with him tonight. For the first time since our engagement party, I felt fully prepared for my husband physically. More than prepared. Needy. And even though Wolfe was next to impossible to read, I did know this about him—he wanted me, too.