The Rejected Wife: Chapter 5

‘You want me to spend the night with you?’ I cough.

Instantly, he reaches over and pats my back. ‘You okay?’

A shiver squeezes my spine at his touch, but I manage to nod.

He helps me off the table and back to ours. He pulls out my seat, makes sure I’m comfortable. A true gentleman. Completely unlike the hungry man who’d feasted between my legs.

He drops into his chair and slides the glass with water in my direction. I take a sip, more for something to do than thirst, then set it down gently. My fingers drift to the table setting. I adjust the cutlery, nudge the sugar bowl a few millimeters to the right. Small movements. A quiet attempt at control in a moment that feels anything but.

It’s a delaying tactic, but that’s okay. I need to figure out how I’m going to answer him. Because… Yes, I want to spend more time with him. Yes, I want to get to know him better. But also, no way, am I going to spend the night with a man I just met. Wouldn’t that send out a signal that I’m easy? You let him go down on you. That ship has sailed.

As if he can read my thoughts, he holds up his hands. ‘I should qualify that I want to spend the night with you… Getting to really know one another. I want to know all about you.’

I raise my gaze to his and find humor twinkling in his.

‘You want to spend the time… Talking?’ I scrunch up my eyebrows.

He must notice my confusion, for he chuckles. ‘You’d rather we not get to know each other before we sleep together?’

“That’s not what I meant.” I toss my head. “Only—” I form my words carefully. “Only, I thought someone like you wouldn’t be interested in…you know—” I hesitate.

“Go on,” he says slowly.

“—Oh, in getting to know someone before you sleep with them.” Even as I hear my words, I know I’m making a sweeping judgment of this man’s character, but now it’s too late to take it back.

“Hmm.” He drags his thumb under that pouty lower lip, the one I want to dig my teeth into and suck on. Focus, Priscilla!

“Firstly, you’re not ‘anyone,’” he murmurs in that deep and rough-edged voice like velvet over grit.

“I’m not?” A melting sensation coils in my chest.

He shakes his head. ‘Secondly…” He gives me a considering look. “By someone like ‘me,’ you mean⁠—”

Oh shoot, he wants me to spell it out. I could try to backtrack, but that would only make me seem indecisive. Okay then. I’ve opened this particular door, and I’m going to have to walk through it. “Surely, you’re aware of your appeal?”

“My. Appeal?” There’s surprise in his voice.

“You come from a moneyed background, and you look like you walked off the pages of a fashion magazine. Not to mention, you’re magnetic and so darned chiseled, you could have any woman you want.” I wave my hand in the air. “I assumed you were a rake.”

“You assumed I’m morally ambiguous and a womanizer who doesn’t care for commitment, based on how I look?”

I flush further. “I don’t mean—” Argh! I deflate a little. “You’re right; that is what I meant. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he says softly. “You’re right that I’ve never lacked for female company. And yes, I have dated women.”

A hot sensation squeezes my stomach. Of course, he’s been with other women. And he’s honest about it, which is a good sign, right? Still, jealousy flares—sharp and unexpected. I have no claim on him. But God, I want one.

“But I’m not with them,” he says quietly. “I’m here. With you.”

His gaze burns into mine. “You’re breathtaking. There’s a kind of light in your face that doesn’t belong to this world—and your body…” He exhales, as if steadying himself. “It calls to me in ways I can’t explain. I won’t pretend I don’t want you. I do. Every inch of you.”

His expression is filled with need. But there’s restraint in the way he holds himself, reverence. “But what I feel for you isn’t just desire. It’s deeper. It’s real. And I don’t want to tarnish that by rushing into something physical when what’s growing between us could be…everything.”

“Oh.” The jealousy recedes. That melting sensation in my chest spreads to my extremities.

I search his face and realize he is serious. It makes me realize, I misjudged him. I had him pegged for the stereotypical alpha male who’d simply take what he wants and be done with me, but he’s actually a decent human being who finds me intriguing enough to want to get to know me better.

Somewhere deep inside, I didn’t think I was worthy of his spending the time to get to know me before he tried to sleep with me. I thought I was over the biases that a lifetime of being singled out for my curvy figure has thrust on me. And normally, I’m a confident person. I’ve learned to love myself. I’ve learned to be comfortable in my own skin. All those who bullied me for my curves were projecting their insecurities onto me. I know that now. But meeting this man and feeling this fierce attraction to him, seems to have brought a fresh layer of insecurity to the surface. Seems like this time, it’s me who’s projecting my story onto him. He’s made it clear he loves my body. His words make me feel like I’m the most beautiful woman in the world. And the way he made me come was… Unexpected, to say the least.

Tingles of pleasure still course through my body from how I orgasmed. I’m a tad disappointed that he doesn’t want to spend the night having wild sex. Which is crazy, because I just told myself I’m not going to jump into bed with him. So why am I finding fault with him for mirroring that same sentiment to me.

‘Umm… I’m…not sure how to respond to that,’ I finally offer.

The skin around his eyes creases. I must have said something right, for his lips quirk. ‘I really do want to get to know you better.’ He reaches for my hand again and laces his fingers through mine.

Once more, little pinpricks of awareness stream out from the point of contact. His unmatched eyes flash, and I know he feels this weird chemistry between us, too. And when he licks his lips, I’m sure he can taste my cum. Heat blooms in my chest. My scalp tingles. That was even more erotic than feeling his lips on mine. Almost.

The notes of the acoustic version of ‘Come Here’ by Kath Bloom begin to play overhead. It’s heartfelt and evocative. The emotions in her voice. The yearning. The feeling. A flicker of something electric dances beneath my skin. I can’t say if it’s the plea in the words or the fact that she says that you don’t have to run away… Or perhaps, it’s the promise in his eyes. That burn of lust mixed with the sweet longing that I sense in him, which mirrors this hankering in mine. My instinct tells me this is a once-in-a-lifetime connection. My logical mind tells me that’s crazy.

Yet, something deeper in me, that primitive part of me, overrides everything else. ‘I do want to get to know you better’—I hesitate—’but…’

‘But?’

‘Also, I feel weird about this. We just met today, you took me out for coffee, and then…’ I trail off.

‘The orgasm,’ he completes my statement.

I flush. ‘There’s that,’ I agree in a steady voice. It was an incredible orgasm, too. And yes, I let a man who I met only a few hours earlier go down on me. I could claim I got carried away, but it’s more than that. I feel a real connection here. But what if I’m reading too much into it? What if⁠—?

‘I’d love to make you come again and again. I’d love to take you to bed and complete what we started but…I do want to get to know you better first.’ His gaze holds mine.

That awareness thrumming between us shoots up a notch. It makes me want to throw caution to the wind and tell him yes. Yes! And yet…I hesitate. It’s not that I don’t feel safe with him. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be here. The way he helped me on the train earlier ensured we’re past that first barrier of not trusting… Which is why I agreed to have coffee with him. But to spend more time with him? My heart leaps within my chest. Damn, I really want this. But also, it feels momentous to agree. Like if I did, my life would change forever, which is crazy… Right?

When I stay quiet, he leans in and fixes those stunning mismatched eyes on me. ‘Think about it this way. Twenty years down the line, when you’re unhappy with someone else, you’ll always wonder how it could’ve been if you’d said yes to spending the night with me.’

The confidence in his voice makes me huff out a laugh. ‘What if I’m very happy with this hypothetical significant other?’

‘You’re not,’ he growls.

‘How can you be so sure?’

‘Because’—he takes my other hand in his and presses both my palms between his much bigger ones—’that person is not me. Not unless you give me a chance tonight. Take a chance on us, Priscilla. I promise, you won’t regret it.’

Did the cosmos finally read my vision board? That’s intense. His words have a ring of authenticity to them which resonates somewhere deep inside me. I swallow… He sounds so sure of himself. His tone goes beyond arrogance; he sounds certain that we have a connection. He’s telling me that he’s thinking of me as more than just a passing liaison and what we have is something special. Right?

Also, he did rescue my bag, and was the complete gentleman until…he wasn’t. And I loved that, too. After all, I did orgasm. I could do with more of those.

And is he right? If I don’t agree to spend the night with him, will I regret it? Will I always wonder how it could have been to act on such an intense connection?

I shake my head. ‘You’re very persuasive, you know that?’

‘Does that mean you’re saying yes?’ he asks in a low voice. Like silk dragged across stone. Oh. My. God. How can I resist that?

I nod.

A breath whooshes out of him. Some of the tension leaves his shoulders.

Apparently, he wasn’t sure I’d agree. This glimpse of vulnerability makes my heart stutter. I pegged him for an alpha male who was used to getting his way. So, the fact he didn’t assume anything when it comes to me is refreshing.

It also confirms to me that I made the right choice. Which in turn, makes me want to sleep with him even more. How confusing is that?

‘Say it aloud,’ he urges me.

It doesn’t even occur to me to refuse him. ‘Yes, I’ll spend the night with you. Only’—I tip up my chin—“I want to do more than just talk.’

Something flashes in his eyes, the intensity lighting a fire that zips through my veins. He lowers his chin until his gaze is level with mine. ‘You want to do more than talk?’

His dark, gravelly voice sends another flurry of excitement down my spine. I squeeze my thighs together. His nostrils flare, and I’m certain he must be aware of how turned on I am. The knowledge makes me flush. I draw in a breath to calm myself.

‘I do,’ I admit.

He studies my eyes, and whatever he sees there makes him nod. “Good, give me your phone.”

“Eh?”

“Your phone.” He holds out his palm.

“You realize that asking someone to hand over their phone is more personal than sex?”

He chuckles. “Clearly, you haven’t had good sex.”

How about no sex? Not counting all the masturbation with my favorite toys and spicy romance novels, of course.

When I still hesitate, he murmurs, “You agreed to come home with me. You allowed me to make you come. Your instinct tells you, that you can trust me.”

I nod slowly.

“Take it a step further and give me your phone.”

Once again, his voice is spiked with that edge of genuineness, which has more of an effect on me than him ordering me to do so.

I pull my phone from my purse. I begin to hand it over when he reminds me, “Unlock it first.”

“Oh, right.” I do so and place my device on his palm.

He holds it up and takes a selfie.

“What are you doing?’

In response, he keys in a number and presses call. A second later, I hear a buzzing sound. He pulls his phone from his pocket, sliding mine across the table toward me. “Now you have my picture, my name and my number. Make sure you tell a trusted friend that you’re spending the rest of the evening with me.”