Her mouth opens on a silent "oh." She pushes up on the chair's arms, lifting her erse off the seat.
Cannae stop my lips from curling into a smug smile, though it's only a slight one. "You won't have to fake your reactions to me."
"That's lust, not love."
"No one will notice the difference." I flick my thumb over her stiffening nipple, rewarded by her wee gasp. "If you need a bit of encouragement to fulfill your social duties, I can provide it."
"I'm still not sure." She waves a finger in a circle in front of my face. "As far as I can tell, you've got at least three people living inside that pretty little head of yours. Not sure I can handle psychological bigamy."
"There's no one else in my head. Only me."
"I don't mean actual split personalities. You have these distinct facets to your personality, and they come and go like flipping a switch."
I frown. "If you think I'm insane—"
"No, that's not what I mean either." She searches my gaze but seems not to find what she hoped to see there. "You're very complicated, Rory."
"I've been told as much before. By my family."
She freezes, her eyes widening. "What about my family? What am I supposed to tell them?"
"The same thing we tell mine."
"A lie, you mean." She squirms. "Would you please remove your hand?"
I peel my palm away from her breast, then settle one hand on my thigh and the other on the table. Something in her expression makes me think she might be seriously considering my offer. My pulse accelerates, and a strange sort of excitement races over my skin.
She clenches the marriage contract in her hand. "I need to think about this."
"Take all the time you need." Though I want to know her answer now, I must give her a chance to adjust to the idea. I stand up. "I can wait in the other room."
"No." She shoves her chair backward and springs to her feet. "I need to think while I'm away from you, away from your crazy-hot sexiness and charming little idiosyncrasies. I'll change my airline ticket and fly home as soon as I can—today."
Disappointment floods through me so heavily that my head falls forward and my shoulders cave in.
"I promise I will think about your proposal," she says. Since I'm blocking her path to the door, unintentionally, she lays a hand on my chest and pushes. "Please move. You're in my way."
I wrap my hand around hers, afflicted with a sudden need to convince her my plan will work. While I keep her hand caged in mine, I back her up to the table, forcing the lass to brace her erse against the edge. I ease my knee forward to push her thighs apart. She grips the table in one hand.
And I press her other hand to my chest. "What can I do to convince you?"
"I-I don't know. You're suggesting I marry you for sex and money." She leans backward, though she can't escape me that way. "The money I get. But the sex… We only did it the one time. Maybe it'll stink from now on."
I can't help chuckling. "It won't. And for the record, we fucked more than once."
"Twice in a single night. I'm counting that as one time."
"You came three times."
She wrestles her hand free of mine. "What did you do, make a spreadsheet to keep track of our sexual encounters? Bet you like spreadsheets. You're so…meticulous."
With my mouth a breath away from hers, I smirk and murmur, "You make 'spreadsheet' sound filthy."
And aye, now I'm fantasizing about making spreadsheets of every last thing I want to do to her body. While I'm shagging her, I'll recite my list of erotic options, whispering it into her ear. I'll spread her thighs and calculate the odds I can make her come four times in a night. With the right pivot table, I can do anything.
My lips tease her while I speak. "Stay until the red-eye tonight. I'll show you how meticulous I can be."
She flings her arms around my neck and latches her legs around my hips. The heels of her shoes dig into my erse. "Why wait? Show me now."