Can’t do it.
“I’m not interested in you like that either,” she says, her voice low and downright threatening. By the look on her face, I’d guess mynot interestedremark insulted her. Good. That’ll keep her away from me. “If we were to actually get married, it would be a complete disaster.”
“Hell yes,” I agree.
“We’re not compatible.”
It takes everything I’ve got not to blatantly check her out. I could be compatible with her. That’s not the issue.
“Our mothers would eventually want children,” she continues. “Yours in particular will want little baby Constantines to carry on the family name.”
“According to you, you’ll run away from me and that won’t happen,” I remind her.
“It probably will though,” she whispers, fear filling her eyes. “We might not have a choice.”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” I say, removing my hand from the wall to skim my fingers along her jawline. She flinches away from my touch, and I drop my hand. “It might not be so bad.”
Why am I saying this? It would be awful. Marrying a stranger is not what I would consider a good time.
“It will be terrible,” she says, an obvious shiver stealing over her. Like the idea of me touching her is disgusting. Why? What happened to her to make her so fearful? “I can’t imagine.”
“You really think it’ll be that bad?” All those angry little virgin remarks return to the forefront of my brain, screaming at me that’s exactly what I’m dealing with. I decide to handle her with a different approach. “It’s okay, baby. I can be gentle.”
Her frown is so deep I’m afraid it’s going to give her permanent wrinkles. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’ve got you all figured out.” I smile at her, dropping my voice an octave. “You don’t have to be scared.”
She laughs, but it sounds nervous. “You think I’m scared of you?”
“Maybe you’re just scared of men in general.” For some unknown reason I want to touch her so damn bad. Just to reassure her, I tell myself, which I know deep down is a crock of shit.
But from the fierce look on her face, I’m afraid she’ll just slap me for making another attempt, and I don’t want to risk it.
I keep my hands to myself.
“You do realize I grew up with three brothers.” She crosses her arms in front of her, which only plumps up those tits we were just talking about. “And every one of them is an asshole. Even my baby brother.”
“I’ve heard,” I say dryly. “I’m guessing they aren’t very overprotective of you, then? Because if they were, they’d be here tonight, ready to defend their sister and pummel my face in.”
Something flickers in her gaze when she looks away from me for a beat. Her lips tremble and she rubs them together, a little sniff sounding before she returns her gaze to mine. Her demeanor has completely shifted, all the fight seemingly draining out of her. “No man scares me, Perry Constantine. Not even you. And before you start with all those ridiculous promises again, I’ll have you know that I’m not some scared little virgin, no matter what you believe.”
It’s my turn to blink at her in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“I mean what I say. I’ve had sex with other men. You’re nothing special.” The smirk on her face is almost evil. Just like that, and all the fight has come back into her with a vengeance. “I wasn’t saving myself for marriage, so you don’t get to take my virginity, you perv.”
She’s either a fantastic bluffer or she’s telling the truth. “For some reason, you can’t stop calling me a pervert. I think you like it.”
“I don’t. And I don’t likeyoueither. Now get away from me.” She shoves at my chest this time, so hard I do take a stumbling step backwards. She gains her advantage and slips away from me, heading for her mother who is about to climb into the back seat of a sleek black town car.
“Great chatting with you, babe,” I call after Charlotte, my gaze dropping to her ass. The little flounce of her hot-pink skirt. Those long, smooth legs teetering on the sky-high heels.
Damn, I love it when a woman wears heels. Stilettos. Sandals. Whatever, you name it. Sexy-ass shoes that showcase equally sexy-ass legs are my thing.
Figures the woman I’m being forced to marry has the best set I’ve ever seen on a woman.
Despite everything—her attitude, her anger, my own anger—I still want to touch them. See if they’re as smooth and soft as they look.
And if all goes as they planned, I guess I’ll have every right to do so when Charlotte Lancaster becomes my wife.