Beaufort Brides: Hired Bride Part 12

Her eyes flew up to his face. "Are you sure?"

"Of course. I have no complaints about the marriage." He cleared his throat and managed a leering expression. "Although I still wouldn't say no to s.e.x."

She giggled, looking remarkably pretty and vulnerable somehow. "Sorry. I'm sure it can't be comfortable to have to refrain for so long."

"Are you saying it's comfortable for you?" He didn't at all like the idea that she wasn't at least a little bit interested in s.e.x with him.

"I've gone without s.e.x for six months plenty of times in my life."

"Really?"

She shook her head. "I think you're dramatically overestimating my social life. I've had two serious boyfriends in my life-none of the relations.h.i.+ps lasting more than a year. And I only have s.e.x with guys I'm serious about, so..."

He thought about that, thinking through what it told him about her. "You had s.e.x with me," he said at last.

She blushed visibly and glanced away. "That was an accident."

He burst into laughter and reached over to wrap an arm around her, pulling her into a quick half-hug. "Anytime you'd like another slip-up like that, just let me know. I promise I'll be up for an accident of my own."

She was laughing too when she pulled away.

Hit with a spontaneous idea, he suggested, "Do you want to go out tonight? Just the two of us?"

She straightened up, looking surprised again. "Sure. That's a good idea. That would help dispel the idea that we're not a normal couple."

For some reason, Mitch.e.l.l felt a drop in his chest at her words. He hadn't suggested it to stop the rumors.

He'd suggested it because he thought she would enjoy it.

After the shock of seeing the story on their marriage, Deanna had a really good evening.

A really good evening.

So good that it made her very nervous.

She and Mitch.e.l.l both showered and changed before they went out, so she felt fresh and pretty in a new blue sundress. They went to a nice, low-key restaurant in the historic downtown area, and then they walked through some of the neighborhoods, looking at houses and gardens, stopping at little shops, and later getting ice cream.

Mitch.e.l.l held her hand as they walked-she a.s.sumed so they could convey the appropriate romantic vibe, should anyone recognize them-but it felt really nice, and she wasn't at all tempted to pull away her hand.

As the evening progressed and they were strolling in companionable silence, Deanna started to get nervous.

She shouldn't be enjoying it so much. She shouldn't be thinking about this as natural. She shouldn't be wanting it to continue, deepen.

They were already more than two months into their six month marriage, and the end date was looming large.

Mitch.e.l.l seemed to be having a good time with her, but that was his nature. He enjoyed himself. He took the easiest route. He rode out whatever wave was in front of him at the moment, and then he moved on as soon as it pa.s.sed.

He'd admitted it openly over and over again.

She couldn't invest in this relations.h.i.+p emotionally because she knew he would never do so himself.

If she wasn't careful, she was going to get hurt.

Really hurt, before this thing was over.

The reflections put a damper on her mood as they approached an ornate fountain. Very gently, she pulled her hand away from his, since it was feeling far too nice, held in his warm, strong grip.

She fussed with her hair for a minute as an excuse to pull her hand away, and then she just didn't offer it back.

She stood for a moment, staring at the water gush out of a dolphin's mouth in the fountain, wis.h.i.+ng faintly that she could let go to that extent, just let everything pour out, regardless of consequences.

She couldn't, though. She was too smart. She was too careful. She'd lived her life desperately trying to hold together the edges of her world, since it always felt on the verge of falling apart, and she couldn't just release it because she wanted for once to enjoy the freedom.

She'd regret it tomorrow. And the next day. And so many days to come.

Mitch.e.l.l had paused with her, also looking at the fountain, and he reached over almost unconsciously to take her hand again.

She pulled it away before he could reach it.

She wasn't looking at him, but she felt him frown and reach for her again.

She ended up-very stupidly-hiding her hand behind her back.

"What the h.e.l.l?" he muttered, putting his hands on her shoulders and turning her to face him.

"Sorry," she said, feeling silly and so young. "My hand was getting hot."

"No, it wasn't." He was searching her face intently. "What's the matter? You were having a good time, and now you're upset about something."

"It's nothing."

"Don't lie to me."

His voice was so intimate, almost ent.i.tled, that it frightened her and angered her at the same time. "I can lie to you if I want."

"But why would you?"

"Because maybe there are certain things you don't need to know."

"Maybe I want to know them."

"Maybe it doesn't always matter what you want."

It was a ridiculous argument, and they both seemed to recognize it at the same time. They both smiled and relaxed, and Mitch.e.l.l pulled her into a soft hug she just didn't have the strength to pull away from.

"What were you worrying about?" he asked after a minute, his mouth against her ear.

"Nothing. Everything. I don't know."

He drew back enough to look down into her face. "I wish you wouldn't worry all the time."

"I have to worry."

"Why?"

She had no idea why she was admitting the truth so openly, but she did. "If I don't, it feels like everything will fall apart."

"What will?"

"Everything. My whole life."

"But what if it doesn't?"

"But what if it does?"

"You can't control that anyway, so why drag yourself down by worrying about things you can't control?"

"But some things I can control. And it's important to me to make good decisions in the things I can control."

"Maybe it should be important to you to let yourself enjoy life more each day, even if things aren't perfect the following day."

"I enjoy life plenty."

"Do you?" He was still gazing down at her, and it felt like he was seeing her for real, completely-like she was the only thing in the world he was seeing. "I'm not sure you do. You never just let yourself go."

"That's because letting yourself go means you make bad decisions."

"Not all the time-unless every one of your instincts is bad."

"They are. All my instincts are bad."

He chuckled. "No, they're not." He leaned down to press a soft kiss on her lips. "I promise you-your instincts aren't all bad."

Her heart and mind and body all felt like they were soaring, and she couldn't help but reach up to wind her arms around his neck. "Some of them are bad," she murmured, her voice surprisingly husky. "Some of them are very, very bad."

He chuckled as he kissed her again, the amus.e.m.e.nt soft and warm and delicious as it vibrated through her body. "But, see, those instincts are actually the best ones."

Her whole body softened against him, and she opened her lips to his tongue, and as the kiss deepened, her existence seemed entirely overwhelmed with pure pleasure.

His hands had slid down to her hips, and he was pressing her against his groin, and she loved the shameless ent.i.tlement of it, as if he was allowed to touch her, move her, exactly as he wanted.

But it was all feeling so good and free and intensely dangerous that a jolt of panic rushed through her and she clumsily pulled away.

He groaned as he reluctantly released her.

"We agreed to no kissing," she gasped, hugging her arms to her chest, desperately wanting to grab and kiss him again.

He rubbed his face with his hands, clearly disappointed and frustrated. "I never agreed to no kissing."

"But we agreed to no s.e.x."

"I told you that you could change your mind at any point."

"I don't want to change your mind."

He was shaking his head. "Yes, you do."

"Well, not all of me wants to change my mind."

"You do want to change your mind. You're just worried about tomorrow. You don't understand that it's right now that really matters."

"Tomorrow matters to me too," she said, meaning every word. "I'm really sorry."

He breathed heavily for a moment, until he finally released the tension with a resigned look. "Okay. It's up to you."

It was very nice of him to respect her wishes. In fact, she'd resent the h.e.l.l out of him if he pressed on, even after she'd said no. But part of her wished he would sweep her off her feet so she wouldn't have to think and worry and predict disaster. So she could just enjoy the moment, the way he could.

Even though, in her heart of hearts, she knew disaster would be coming. She would never be able to be with him for just the moment. She wasn't built that way. If she let herself go and gave herself to him again, she'd be giving all of herself to him, she'd be letting herself fall.

And she'd be crushed at the end of the fall when he wasn't there to catch her.

He wouldn't be. He'd never been anything but honest about that. When six months was up, he would move on to the next thing that was easy and enjoyable.

And no matter how hard it was to resist him right now, it would be harder to watch him walk away, after she'd fallen in love with him.

Eight.

A few weeks later was the wedding of Mandy Milton and Benjamin Damon, and Mitch.e.l.l and Deanna were sitting together in a stiff wooden pew of a historic church in Savannah.

It was still twenty-five minutes before the wedding would begin, but the church was already packed. Deanna was glad she'd hurried Mitch.e.l.l up and made sure they arrived early.

Mitch.e.l.l looked handsome and respectable in a gray suit, although his hair was a little too long and wasn't laying quite right. He looked familiar, known, like she could close her eyes and still see exactly what his expression would be at any given moment.

Like a really good friend. Or family.

He also looked so s.e.xy she had trouble not touching him, but she was used to that.

"Where did all these people come from?" Mitch.e.l.l murmured in her ear. "Don't Ben and Mandy live in California?"