Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 36689 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 183(@200wpm)___ 147(@250wpm)___ 122(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36689 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 183(@200wpm)___ 147(@250wpm)___ 122(@300wpm)
“You’re blackmailing me!” I sputter out the words. I didn’t think Cord was the type of person to do this.
“I’m a cowboy. Playing dirty doesn’t bother me. So, what’s your choice: new roommate or messy divorce?”
“I only have one bathroom.” It’s weak, but I’m grappling for any excuse to get him out of here. My townhouse is nice, but it’s not that nice. It’s not like I’m living in a mansion. Then I could understand if he wanted to move in.
“I believe our honeymoon is evidence that we can share a bathroom. Hell, I’m not opposed to more communal showers, roomie.”
I grit my teeth, telling myself not to think about how good it felt in the shower when he dropped to his knees and licked me until I was crying out or how amazing it was when he used the detachable shower head to pleasure me. “You’re only here until we get divorced.”
Chapter 9
Mira
“We do not fraternize with the enemy,” I tell Molly glaring at her. I told Cord he could only stay with me if Molly and Milo decided they liked him. Milo was only too happy to cover him in kisses and Molly promptly showed him her belly. These two are shameless.
“Oh, it’s not her fault,” Cord answers, giving my dog a tummy rub. “You’re just the sweetest girl, aren’t you? You want to come up here in my lap? I’ve got a special treat just for you, yes, I do.”
I glare at him as he settles on the floor, and my little hussy of a dog crawls right into his lap. He produces a dog treat from his pocket. “Don’t worry. These are the ones that your mommy makes so they won’t bother your allergies at all.”
He glances up to see me staring at him and smirks. “What about you? I could give you a treat too.”
I make a noise of disgust even though the last thing I am is disgusted. The best move here would be to tell my dad I’ve lied, kick Cord out, and accept whatever consequences come from the “messy” divorce that was promised.
Except my dad still is recovering from a brain tumor, and while it’s annoying to have a new roommate I didn’t ask for, Cord has always been kind and considerate. Plus, Molly and Milo like him, and they are excellent judges of character. The only real problem—the one I don’t want to admit to myself—is that I’ll have to keep my hands off my new husband.
I could give you a treat too.
Okay, if my husband is going to be here then I need to set some rules or I’m going to spend a year having the best sex of my life and nursing a broken heart that I will never recover from after. As it is, just being away from him over the past day hurt me in a way I didn’t expect. “If you’re going to be living with me, I have a few guidelines I’d like to go over.”
He leans back, Molly still in his lap. She’s clearly enamored with the cowboy, and who could blame the girl?
“Guideline one, we’re not sleeping together.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll sleep in my own bed.”
“I mean, no sex,” I specify, since he’s insistent on making me spell it out.
He smirks. “Define sex. Are we just talking intercourse or—?”
I blow out a breath, frustrated by how much this conversation is turning me on. How is it he always manages to do that? “Intercourse, foreplay, anything that makes us tingle below the pants, got it?”
He nods but doesn’t object. “Got it. Anything else?”
Now, that I’ve taken sex off the table, I figure I’ll go for the one thing that should have him moving on. “No women here. We’re not sleeping together, but I don’t want to see you parading other women around. If you’re claiming that we’re married, I expect you to be faithful. That means a year of no sex for either of us.”
“Done.”
“I’m asking for celibacy and fidelity. And you’re just giving them both?” I stare at him. He hasn’t blinked once since this entire conversation started. If anything, he seems perfectly relaxed.
He shrugs. “If it’s not sex with my wife, I don’t want it.”
“OK, final guideline. This is the dealbreaker.”
“Toilet seat always down,” he agrees quickly.
“No, but that’s a really good one, so we’ll keep it as part A. Part B of the third guideline is that you don’t say nice stuff to me.”
“You mean, like telling you how pretty you look?”
“Exactly.”
“Objection, your honor.”
I glare at him but there’s no real heat to my expression. “To which one?”
“Guideline three B. Husband reserves the right to say nice things to his wife but will limit it to no more than three compliments daily.”
I sniff. “Fair enough. But that’s the limit. More than that will land you in contempt. Any other objections?”