I ignored his comment but as soon as the door shut he came over to me, pulled me from my chair, wrapped his arms around my waist and bent to kiss me. There was no one here. No audience to perform in front of. Just as there hadn’t been behind closed doors ever since we’d flown to England.
“You feel good. I’ve missed you.”
“You can’t have missed me already. You saw me this morning.” He’d fucked me from behind before breakfast as I’d gripped the chest of drawers beside his bed. Sex with Ryder was how I’d always imagined it could be—how I’d always hoped it would be with Marcus. It was spontaneous, passionate and plentiful.
“It’s been too long,” he said, releasing me to take a seat on the other side of the desk. “Hungry?” he asked, diving into the paper bag he’d brought with him. “You didn’t eat much at breakfast so I thought I’d better make sure lunch came to you.” He pulled out an avocado and shrimp salad and slid it over to me.
“Thanks.” Lunch was a really thoughtful gesture, and I found myself wondering if it was just a coincidence that he’d chosen a salad I’d have chosen for myself.
“You like shellfish, right?”
“Sure,” I replied, opening the plastic box and taking a fork from the center of one of the rolled up napkins that he’d picked up. “So what brings you here, husband?”
He shrugged. “I told you. I missed you. And I wanted to give you this.” He nodded at the package next to the empty bag on the table.
Maybe he had just missed me. There was nothing in our rulebook that said we couldn’t be friends, was there? And friends could miss each other, couldn’t they? “What is it?” I asked.
He grinned at me. “It’s wrapped up. How would I know? I’d forgotten Grandfather gave it to me just before we left for the flight back. I found it when I was rearranging things in your room yesterday.” He unwrapped his sandwich and took a bite. “Eat,” he said with his mouth full.
I rolled my eyes and dug my fork into the salad he’d brought for me, ignoring the mention of my newly allocated space.
I couldn’t remember my first husband ever bringing me lunch while we were married. He’d worked just a couple of buildings down from my office, though I couldn’t recall ever meeting during the day. We were both always so busy working toward a future we weren’t going to share.
“How was your morning? Make a billion dollars? Two billion dollars?” I asked him.
He narrowed his eyes at me. “My wealth is meant to impress you. Not provide ammunition for your sarcasm.”
I laughed. “Oh, thanks for telling me. I’ll know for next time.”
“Does anything impress you?” he asked, tilting his head to one side as he looked at me and I reached out and swept his hair off his face.
“Plenty of things.”
“My penis?” he asked and I laughed again.
I feigned my best thinking face before saying, “Your bed is really comfortable. You have a very impressive mattress. And I sleep like a baby on it.”
“Not what I was hoping you’d say and it sounds like a problem rather than something to be impressed by.” He frowned. “A new bride shouldn’t be getting a good night’s sleep.”
“Oh I have no complaints about the amount of sex we’re having, that’s for sure.” I popped a cherry tomato in my mouth.
“It’s a lot, huh?” he asked.
Christ. It was probably all too normal for him. But not for me. I wanted Ryder. All. The. Time. I’d never wanted sex so much in my life.
“But I think I’d rather risk my dick falling off than stop. I see you, and I want you. Even now, watching you with that plastic fork is turning me on.”
I wiggled my eyebrows. “Cutlery does it for you?” I twisted the fork between my fingers. “Where do you want it?”
He smiled and shook his head. “You do it for me.” His gaze went from me to the view of Manhattan. “I can’t keep my hands off you.” His tone was thoughtful, as if he couldn’t quite understand the pull between us.
I reached across my desk to wipe the tiny bit of mustard from the corner of his lip with my thumb. He grabbed my hand and took my thumb in his mouth.
“Like I said, I can’t keep my hands, mouth, dick off you.”
I tilted my head. “I’m not complaining.” I couldn’t imagine a time when I wouldn’t want him to touch me.
We stared at each other for a couple of long seconds, smiling.
“Open it,” he said, releasing my hands and passing me the package he’d brought with him. I took it and turned it in my hands. It was sealed tightly with a hundred miles of tape. I finally pried off the packaging to reveal a blue-velvet jewelry box with worn edges, as if it had been well loved. I glanced at Ryder, who was staring at the box. As I picked it up a small cream envelope fell away from the bottom.
I pulled out the card.
Dearest Scarlett,
I gave this necklace to the woman I’d grown to love on our first anniversary.
I hope you’ll wear it as a reminder that love can flourish in the most unexpected places.
Congratulations on your marriage. I wish you many happy years together.
Yours sincerely,
The Duke of Fairfax (Your grandfather-in-law)
“A wedding gift from Grandfather?” Ryder asked as I put the card back in the envelope.
A gift that came with a huge hint that my marriage might turn into something more than a business arrangement. That it could turn into love.
Life didn’t work like that, did it? It may have for the duke, but not for me.
I released my held breath and nodded as I swept my hand over the velvet box. The hinge creaked as I opened it. A delicate, gold chain adorned with large raindrops of amethyst and diamonds sat on a bed of cream satin.
“It’s beautiful.” I stroked my fingers over one of the tear-shaped stones.
“It was a favorite of my grandmother’s.”
I glanced up to find Ryder staring openly at the necklace.
“I can’t accept this. It’s got such sentimental value to your family, Ryder.” I pushed the velvet box toward him.
He fiddled with the clasp, then said, “Of course you can accept it. You must. My grandfather likes you a great deal, and he obviously wants you to have it.”
I couldn’t show him the card. I didn’t want to make things difficult between us or lead him to believe I didn’t understand what we were to each other. We were simply making the best out of a situation that had been forced upon us. The sex was convenient. Ryder was thoughtful and polite—just as any decent guy should be given the circumstances.
What we weren’t, and never would be, was in love.
That wasn’t part of our arrangement. And I had to keep telling myself that.
“Let me put it on you,” Ryder said, reaching for the necklace.
I pulled my hair to one side as he moved in behind me. “I feel like I shouldn’t. It doesn’t belong to me.” The cool stones hit just below my collarbone.
“It does belong to you, though. You’re the next Duchess of Fairfax.”
I giggled. “You can’t say that.
“Why not? It will be your title.” He pulled out my chair so I faced him. “It suits you, brings out the violet flecks in your eyes.”