Married by Contract

by Noelle Adams

  ***

  Three days later, Jenn was moaning helplessly as Nick massaged her neck and shoulders.

  She wasn’t just moaning because the relaxation of her muscles was so good. She was feeling a lot of other things too.

  She hated to admit defeat. And she hated to admit that Nick was right and she was wrong. But some things were more important than that.

  One of those things was the deep need in her body. “Nick,” she said, rather raspily.

  “What?” His voice was just as hoarse as hers was.

  “Maybe…”

  “Maybe what?” His hands had grown still on her shoulders.

  “Maybe we should…rethink one of the terms of our contract.” There. She’d said it. And it hadn’t been so bad.

  After all, how much harm could it do to have sex more than once a week?

  Nick moved around to the front of her chair and crouched down so he was on her eye level. “What term?”

  “The…the once a week term. I’m thinking it wouldn’t hurt to have sex more often.”

  He groaned and hauled her up into a kiss. “Thank God! I thought you’d never change your mind.”

  Five

  A few days later, Jenn came into her bedroom from the bathroom to see that Nick had pulled back on his pajama pants.

  They’d just had sex. It had been very good—she’d wrapped her legs around him and he’d moved into her with a slow, rhythmic pressure. It hadn’t been as urgent as when they’d only had once a week, and for some reason that left Jenn feeling a little jittery.

  There was no reason for the sudden case of nerves, so she blew out a breath and smiled as she walked back to her bed.

  Nick could have gone back to his bedroom now, since it was almost midnight, but he didn’t appear to be moving any time soon. He was sprawled out on the messy sheets with one arm bent above his head.

  “Are you cold?” he asked lazily, his eyes running up and down over her body.

  She’d pulled on a pair of knit pajama pants and a matching long-sleeved top. “A little. Is that a problem?”

  “Of course not. Only now I can’t see much of your body.” He reached out to pull her down into the bed with him.

  “Were you thinking we’d have more sex? I was thinking it was time to go to sleep.”

  “Maybe I like to look at your body, even when we’re not having sex.”

  She’d cuddled up at his side, since he was always so warm, but now she lifted her head to check his face. He looked fond and amused—his typical expression—so she relaxed back at his side. “Well, I’m not going to be cold just so you can leer at me. There’s no clause like that in our contract.”

  “Of course not.” He let out a long breath, like he was relaxing, letting go of some sort of tension.

  Jenn wasn’t sure what the tension would be, since he was the most laidback person she’d ever met. She wished she could relax like he could, just blow out all the stress as if it were nothing but air.

  Since she was snuggled up at his side, she had a good view of his bare chest. She idly rubbed her hand over the scattering of hair, the slight rise of his nipples, the rippling firmness of his abdomen. Without conscious thought, her hand moved over to the scar on the side of his ribs, which she usually didn’t even notice. There was one stark white line that must have been a deep wound and a number of fainter scar lines around it. The skin was slightly puckered, and he had no hair there.

  “Is it that bad?” he asked, after she’d caressed him for a minute or two in silence.

  “No. It’s not bad at all. Why would you think it’s bad?”

  “Because you keep petting it, like it needs a lot of sympathy.”

  She chuckled and moved her hand away. “I wasn’t petting it. I wasn’t even really thinking.” She adjusted slightly, moving her eyes from the scar to his face. “What happened?”

  She assumed he’d gotten wounded when he was in the Army, but she’d never asked him about it. She’d always sensed a stone wall where talk of his days in the military was concerned, and she’d wanted to respect his privacy. If talking about it would hurt him, then she didn’t want to do it.

  But she was experiencing the strangest sensation of discontent—like she needed to know him more, deeper, fuller. It was strong enough to overcome her knowledge that this wasn’t something he wanted to discuss.

  He didn’t answer. Just shifted in bed uncomfortably.

  She knew she shouldn’t be asking him this. It wasn’t her business. It might not be part of their contract, but they had an unstated agreement to allow each other whatever boundaries made them most comfortable.

  But that same lingering discontent pushed her to ask, “Nick, how did you get that scar?”

  He cleared his throat, his eyes on her face but with a guarded look he didn’t normally wear. “It was a roadside bomb. In Afghanistan.”

  “Were you seriously hurt?”

  “Not me.”

  “Others were?”

  “Three of our guys…died.”

  “Shit.” She was stroking his scar again, and she lowered her cheek to his chest so she wasn’t looking at his face. She somehow knew it would be harder for him to talk about this if they were meeting each other’s eyes.

  “Those things happen,” he said.

  “Yeah, but it doesn’t make them easy.”

  “No.”

  She paused, since it felt like he needed some time to breathe and let out the tension again. When she felt his body relax, she asked softly, “Why don’t you ever talk about it?”

  “People cope in different ways.”

  “I know they do.”

  “I had counseling, when I first got back. I’m not an emotional basket-case, you know.”

  “I know that! I’d never think that about you. If either of us is a basket-case, it’s definitely me.” She lifted up her head and gave him a wry, slanting look.

  He chuckled and reached out to brush her hair back from her face. “You are not. You take the things in your life seriously. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “I guess.”

  “And I’m here to help you relax, so it’s all good.”

  She smiled and cuddled up beside him again. She’d been feeling good, like she’d connected with him in a new and deeper way, but after a few minutes she reflected on what he’d said.

  If he was here to help her relax, then she wondered what she was to him. Was there any way she could give back to him? At all?

  Then she suddenly had her answer.

  She’d given him a lot of money to pay off his business loan. She’d bought this apartment they lived in. That was what she gave him.

  Just money.

  “What’s the matter?” Nick asked, his hand moving up to stroke her back.

  “Nothing.”

  “You know you’re pressed up against me, right? You always get tense when something bothers you. I know something is wrong, so don’t lie to me.”

  She told herself not to be ridiculous. Yes, she provided the money in their relationship, and he provided the emotional support. It was working for them both, so there was no reason for her to feel bad about it.

  She swallowed over the pressure in her throat. “It’s nothing really.”

  “Hey,” Nick said, tilting her head so he could look her in the eye again. “Something is bothering you. If it’s important, then tell me about it so we can fix it. If it’s really not important, then take a breath and let it go.”

  Jenn felt kind of silly, but she gave him a sheepish smile, took a deep breath, and blew it out.

  She did feel a little better. Maybe Nick was onto something with this letting-it-go thing.

  “Good girl,” Nick murmured, his eyes soft on her face.

  She scowled. “You didn’t just call me good girl, did you?”

  “What? Oh no. You must have heard wrong. I’d never call you something so…”

  “Patronizing.”

  “Exactly. I’d never call you s
omething like that.” He wasn’t smiling, but there was suppressed laughter in his eyes and at the corners of his mouth.

  “I’m glad to hear it.” She let out another long breath, releasing the last of her angst about their somewhat unnatural arrangement. “I don’t know how you keep from stressing the way you do. I wish I could take things less seriously, the way you do.”

  When he didn’t respond, she glanced up and saw he was frowning.

  “That wasn’t an insult,” she said quickly. “I’m saying I wish I could be more like you.”

  “You don’t think I take things seriously?”

  “Don’t be offended! I promise it wasn’t an insult. You’re just really good at staying relaxed and not getting worked up about things. It’s like you were saying before. People cope in different ways, and that’s your way of coping. It’s not a bad thing. I wish I could be like that too. You don’t keep spinning your wheels, working at something that may or may not pan out for you. You just let it go.” She was so worried about hurting his feelings that she kept rambling on, even though she could see on his face she was just making it worse.

  “I work hard at some things,” he said, lowering his brows and staring at a spot just past her head.

  “I know you do. I wasn’t implying you’re lazy or anything. I’m just saying it wrong. I was trying to say I understand and like that about you—that you don’t keep fighting battles you might not be able to win. I feel like I’m always launching myself into wars that can’t really be won, but you’re not like that.”

  “Yeah, but you do that because you’re genuinely passionate about life. And you think I’m not.”

  She was so upset by his tone and uncharacteristic tension that she sat up, folding her legs beneath her and gazing down at him urgently. “Nick, please don’t take it that way. I was trying to say something nice.”

  “I know you were.” He sounded almost resigned now, and she saw him take and release a deep breath. “I’m not offended by what you said. You’re right. I never go into a fight unless I know I can win, which means I don’t try very hard at all. Which means I might even walk away from things I care about.”

  “I don’t think that’s true, Nick. You’re a really good friend. And a good son. You call your parents every week, don’t you?”

  “Sure. But I haven’t been to see them in months. And they’re getting old.”

  Jenn had occasionally wondered why he didn’t visit his folks more often—since he wasn’t that far away—and she suddenly understood why. They were getting old, and it was hard for him to see it. And he avoided anything that might hurt him.

  It was why he’d agreed to their bizarre marriage in the first place—not really to get his loans paid off but to make it impossible for him to invest in a real relationship.

  This marriage might be a convenience for her, but it was a safety net for him.

  But still…she didn’t want him to think badly about himself. He was an amazing man, and he should know how much she appreciated him.

  “So you go see your parents,” she said lightly.

  He gave a huff of dry amusement. “Yeah.”

  “And don’t beat yourself up too much because it’s not as bad as you think. You’re more than capable of investing in the serious things in life, whenever you decide that’s what you want to do. Just consider how much you’ve done for me—how much you always do for me—and we’re not even in a real relationship.”

  Nick had been gazing at her, something deep in his eyes, but he glanced away at her last words. “Yeah,” he said again.

  Jenn was afraid she’d gone too far, pushed him too much. He didn’t like this kind of conversation, and he was likely to shut down pretty soon. He’d go to sleep in his own room, and she’d feel a distance between them again.

  She didn’t want that to happen, so she stretched out beside him, tucking herself under his arm. “Anyway, I guess that’s enough talk for one night. I’m ready to sleep, if you are.”

  “I am. You want me to go sleep in my room?”

  “Only if you want to. Either way is fine with me.”

  He made a low murmur, like he was already starting to go drift off, and he adjusted their bodies so his arms were wrapped around her and he was spooning her from behind.

  It felt very nice. Jenn told herself not to brood over the conversation they’d just had. She closed her eyes and tried to go to sleep.

  ***

  The following week, Jenn and Nick were cleaning up after a dinner in the kitchen when her phone chirped with a text.

  Nick arched his eyebrows at her over his shoulder, his hands wet from rinsing a plate, when she went to check.

  “If it’s work, I’ll leave it alone,” she told him, recognizing his expression. “No need to give me that look.”

  Seeing the text was from a college friend, Jenn smiled and replied. After a few more texts and responses, she looked up to see Nick leaning against the sink, obviously waiting to hear who it was.

  He didn’t usually expect to be told the details of her text conversations, but maybe he was still suspicious that it was work-related. She said, “It’s Raina. She wants us to go to a party she’s having next Friday.”

  Nick thought briefly, probably mentally reviewing his schedule, before he said, “That’s fine with me.”

  Jenn sent one more text to end the conversation and then put down her phone. “I haven’t seen Raina in a few months.” They’d been roommates in college and as close as Jenn had ever gotten to another woman. They’d seen less of each other as the years went on, but they still made a point of getting together regularly.

  “I know.”

  She frowned at the significant note in his voice. “What does that mean?”

  “It means I’ve noticed that you haven’t seen her in a few months.”

  “Well, I’ve been busy. Why do you make it sound like it’s a bad thing?”

  “I didn’t mean to sound judgy,” he said, his expression relaxing into a smile. “Just that it’s good for you to have friends.”

  “I do have friends. I’ve got plenty of friends. I can hardly be a social butterfly when work takes so much out of me, but I’ve got more than enough friends. Plus, I have you.”

  “That’s true.”

  “I hang out with friends about as much as you do,” she added, wondering if Nick thought she was too isolated or something. He had some guys he hung out with every couple of weeks, but he certainly wasn’t any more social than she was.

  “I told you I didn’t mean to sound like I was judging you,” he said, coming over and sliding a hand down from her shoulder to her hand in a casual, intimate gesture. “I see friends when I feel like it. Most of the time, I’m too tired. I’d rather hang out with you.”

  She couldn’t help but smile at this. “Me too.”

  When their shared smile stretched on a little too long, Jenn cleared her throat and pulled away. “Anyway, don’t you want to hear what kind of party it is?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, Raina isn’t the kind to have a normal, boring cocktail party. She has something else planned.”

  Nick appeared to recognize the hidden laughter in her expression. His smile faded. “What is it?

  “It’s a dancing party.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Seriously? It seems like something you’d do in college, but I can live with that. I’m an okay dancer.”

  Jenn giggled. “You think so?”

  “Sure.” He did a little dance for her, keeping his feet completely still and just moving his hips and his arms. Since he was wearing a T-shirt and his blue plaid flannel pants, Jenn’s giggling turned into full-fledged laughter.

  Nick stopped dancing and frowned at her. “I’m not that bad. I’d do better with music.”

  Jenn couldn’t seem to stop laughing. She had to prop herself up against the counter as she tried to catch her breath.

  “Seriously,” Nick said, his face softening as he watched her laug
hing. “Laugh if you want, but I promise I won’t embarrass you.”

  “You’d never embarrass me. But I’m sorry to tell you that that’s not the kind of dancing she means.”

  “What does she mean then?”

  “She’s a big fan of Dancing with the Stars.”

  Nick blinked. “Oh.” Then he seemed to realize what was in store for him. “Oh.”

  Jenn giggled again at his aggrieved tone. “I’m just saying, swinging your hips a little isn’t going to cut it.”

  “I can’t do that kind of dancing.”

  “You’ll do fine.”

  “No, I won’t. I’m definitely going to embarrass you.”

  “You’re not going to embarrass me.” Smiling, she stepped close to him and reached over to grab his arms and place one hand on her waist and take the other in her hand. “We don’t have to do anything fancy. Just move around the floor a little.”

  Nick looked genuinely befuddled, which wasn’t like him at all. “But I’m telling you, I don’t know how to move.”

  “Just step into me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, step into me.” She released his hand and patted one of his thighs. “This leg first.”

  Nick did as she told him, and she moved her own foot back with his step. She guided him in a very simple pattern until they could make their way around the kitchen floor without his stepping on her feet.

  She honestly didn’t care if he could dance or not. They could stand on the sidelines at the party and drink wine, for all she cared. But he appeared to be genuinely worried about it, which she couldn’t help but think was kind of sweet.

  Once he’d basically gotten the hang of it, he loosened up and acted more like himself. He tried to dip her once and almost dropped her, and then frowned at her indignantly when she laughed at him.

  That just made her laugh even more, since he was clearly hamming it up for her benefit.

  “Okay,” she said, managing to keep a straight face. “Let’s try once more and then call it good.”

  So they danced in the kitchen, her in thick socks and Nick in his pajama pants, and for a few minutes, Jenn couldn’t pull her gaze away from his warm expression.

  Something soft and rich and deep filled her chest, and it felt completely natural when he pulled her into a hug. She hugged him back, holding onto his familiar body with an urgency that surprised her.