Don’t Mind If “I Do” by Everly Ashton

Eighteen

Nick

I face Mazzy, eyes narrowed. “Why’d you do that?”

“Do what?” Her forehead wrinkles.

“Tell Jemma you’d go to her wine night.”

“Why wouldn’t I? She seems nice.”

“Yeah, but this isn’t real.” I motion between us. “You don’t have to go winding yourself into my life. This’ll all be done and over within six months and you’ll never see her again.”

From the red blotches that appear on the pale skin of her neck, it’s clear I’ve pissed her off. “Well I like Jemma, and I didn’t want to turn her invitation down and make her feel bad. Don’t worry, I won’t let her get too close.”

“Make sure you don’t.”

“I’m tired.” She stomps past me toward the stairs, then bends over abruptly and takes off her pumps. Holding them in one hand, she stomps back to me, eyes on fire.

That damned slit in her dress allows her shapely left leg to show as she comes toward me. Dinner was hell since I sat on her left side and the fabric had fallen to the side, leaving most of her thigh exposed. Her legs are one feature I love most.

“I realize this isn’t a love match and we’re each doing this for our own reasons, but you might want to work a little harder at not being such a jerk to me if you want to make people at your work think we’re in love. You can’t be pissed off by every single thing that comes out of my mouth if you want people to believe we’re happy.”

The reminder of why she’s doing this—money—makes me want to spout off, but she’s right. I have to try a lot harder not to be an asshole so the people at the hospital believe I’m a happily married man.

So I suck back the sour taste in my mouth and tell her what she wants to hear. “You’re right. I apologize. I’ll try harder to forget the past and move forward with you.”

All the fight leaves her body. Her shoulders slump and her fist relaxes. “Good, great.”

“There is one thing we didn’t discuss that we probably should.” I step forward and regret it when the scent of her perfume reaches my nostrils. “Consummation of the marriage.”

Her mouth drops open and her eyes flare, but I can’t tell if it’s in arousal or shock. “You want to… you mean…”

I shrug as though I could take it or leave it, but in reality my dick has been preoccupied with trying to slide between her thighs since that kiss during the ceremony. I don’t think it’s a good idea. It’ll only complicate things, but I don’t know what she needs. “That’s not what I’m saying, but I don’t know if you need to present the bloody sheets to the town as proof or what.”

She crosses her arms. “Well, we’d have to time travel back in time if you’re looking for bloody sheets from me.” She gives me a saccharine smile.

The mention of her sleeping with someone else makes my jaw tick. “I’m aware.”

“This being legally binding is enough for me. We don’t have to sleep together.”

“Well, thank God for small favors, huh?” I loosen the bow tie around my neck. Once again, it’s like a set of hands trying to squeeze the life out of me.

When I have trouble, Mazzy sets down her shoes and steps forward. “Here, let me.”

She messes with the bow tie for a minute. Once it’s undone, her gaze moves up from my neck to lock with mine. We stay like that for a minute, breathing the same air.

The physical pull I always felt around her is still present, though my head reminds me how badly she hurt me. That keeps me from planting my lips on hers to taste her again. The kiss we shared earlier and the way her body felt pressed up against me linger in my mind.

I clear my throat and step back. “Ollie wouldn’t tell me what happened upstairs earlier. Care to explain?”

Her gaze darts to the side. She clearly, she doesn’t want to tell me either.

“What happened?” I press. I don’t know if it’s because I want to make sure everything is medically okay with her or whether I hate the idea of her sharing a secret with Ollie. Probably both.

She swallows hard. “I had a panic attack. It wasn’t too bad though. It passed fairly quickly.”

My stomach lurches and I resist the urge to reach out to her, nodding instead. I’ve seen plenty of those in the ER and I know how terrifying they can be. “Is that the first time you’ve had one?”

The idea that marrying me could be the start of these episodes leaves a sour feeling in my stomach.

She shakes her head. “No, I had one after my grandfather died. And then the first one I had was when those pictures of my husband with his mistresses were printed.”

I frown. The moment I read that she was engaged to Jeffers Anderson, I knew he’d fuck it up. We used to travel in the same circles, and the guy was always a pompous ass, thinking he was God’s gift to women. But I didn’t get any satisfaction once those pictures confirmed it.

“I see. Well if there’s anything I can do, let me know.” The platitude rolls off my tongue. There isn’t much I can do, unless it involves getting her through one of the attacks.

“Which reminds me,” she says, squaring her shoulders, “we didn’t discuss it, but I’m sure it goes without saying that neither of us will involve ourselves in any extracurricular activities for the duration of the six months? I can handle taking the blame for this marriage ending, but I can’t deal with more press about how I have a cheating husband again.”

A flash of pain in her eyes tells me how devastating a blow her husband’s infidelity was for her. Whether it’s because she was in love with her husband or because of the public embarrassment, I’m not sure.

“I’ll keep it in my pants. Though six months is a long dry spell. You might need to perform some wifely duties.” I wink to ease some of the tension.

She rolls her eyes and turns for the stairs. “I’m going to bed. I’m assuming I’ll sleep in the guest room?”

Another thing I hadn’t thought of. No newlyweds would sleep in separate beds, but there’s no one here to call us on it, so that makes the most sense. But why does disappointment settle in my stomach at the thought?

“Of course. If you need anything, let me know.”

She nods and makes her way up the stairs, hips swaying as she does.

Fuck. I need a cold shower.

I go through the main floor and turn off all the lights and make sure the doors are locked, then I head up to my bedroom. After I’ve stripped out of the tuxedo, I turn on the shower and step in before it’s running warm to cool some of the heat in my blood. Especially the blood giving me this rock-hard erection I know is courtesy of my mind replaying how gorgeous Mazzy looked tonight and how she tasted when we kissed.

The light catches my ring. I can’t believe I’m a married man. Fake or not, I never thought I’d see the day.

I stroke myself without making a conscious decision that I was going to. I was running through thoughts of Mazzy tonight, and before I knew it, my dick was in my hand.

Screw it. Might as well give myself some relief, even if it is to thoughts of the woman I hate who’s now my wife. So I tighten my grip and stroke up and down, swirling my fist on the tip. I’m panting hard when my balls tighten and the base of my spine tingles. And then I’m coming on a groan, picturing my seed hitting her chest rather than running down the drain.

What the fuck am I doing? I’m supposed to be the one in control here.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow I’ll have my shit together. I just need a minute to get used to the fact that she’s back in my life.