Wanted: A Good Wife & Great Sex (A Bargained Marriage)

by SL Beabhar

  "One month and I'm already thinking of ways to punish you," she said.

  "Yeah? I've never tried that BDSM shit, but I think I could like it." Phoebe bit down on her lip and pointed a finger in warning. He twisted his mouth and tried to follow the direction of her thoughts. "It's been one month since we've met. Roughly one week since I last had sex."

  She counted on her fingers, staring at the plate of cookies. He nudged her side with his elbow.

  "That's right, Phoebe. It's been a week since we had sex."

  She pointed back towards Reggie's room. "Leslie seems your type."

  He waved his hands in the air. "There you go again, making me think we're talking about a threesome."

  "Look at me." The humor faded from her face. She gripped his chin in her hand and forced him to look at her. "Why did you tell her that I was your wife?"

  He lifted his left hand and pointed at his wedding band. "I figured this would be a dead giveaway, especially since it matches the one on your finger."

  "Oh." She dropped her hand. "You know, maybe we shouldn't wear them all the time. Just when we have to be around your coworkers and stuff."

  The idea seemed simple enough. Rational. It made sense to him. But, it also bothered him. "We're married for the next five years. I'm not going to spend that time yanking this thing off and on." He shrugged. "Hell. I might lose it."

  She dropped her head, and he could only assume she was looking at her own ring. Her fingers twisted at the band while she mumbled to herself.

  "What was that?" He nudged her again. "I didn't catch what you said."

  She jerked her head up and narrowed her eyes. "I said I wouldn't want to lose your grandmother's ring."

  "That would be a tragedy."

  "A terrible one."

  "So about that threesome, I think she'd totally be open to it."

  Phoebe buried her face in her hands. "How am I going to live with you these next five years?"

  "Easily, I hope."

  She twisted to rest her elbow against the back of the couch. Her chin rested against her hand. "Do you mind if I ask, how long was your longest relationship?"

  "Not counting this marriage?" He knew he was being silly, but he liked seeing the twinkle in her eye. It was a lovely change from the usual solemnness that lurked there. "Can I count friendships?"

  "You know what I mean."

  He sighed, reached out, and placed his hand on her knee. She didn't buck him away, so he smiled and slid his hand further up her thigh. She eventually clasped his hand, holding it halfway between her knee and hip.

  "Just shy of a year, I think." He thought about it for a moment longer, then nodded. "Yeah. About eleven months. Things went south when I met her parents. I wasn't opposed to meeting them, mind you. But then her mother started prattling on and on about family traditions and expectations. The next thing I know, she was talking about reserving a venue and choosing a wedding cake."

  "Scared you shitless, huh?"

  "Sure did." He grinned. "What about you?"

  She squeezed her eyes shut and grimaced. "I knew you were going to ask me that. Technically, I don't think I've ever had a relationship. I mean, not like one where you formally come to agreement that you're together."

  "Seriously?" He couldn't fathom it.

  Her lips curved. "I was dating someone a few years back that I thought had long-term potential. He was studying to be a pharmacist, working as a paramedic at night."

  "What happened? Why didn't it work out?"

  "My sister got sick. My brother-in-law asked me to help take care of her, so I ended the relationship."

  "Why?" He saw a tightness around her mouth and he wondered if it signaled a hint of resentment. "That seems a bit drastic."

  "I was living in East Chicago at that time. I had to quit my job and relocate to Indianapolis. We'd only gone out on a handful of dates, so I didn't think it was fair to expect him to want a long-distance relationship."

  "And how far is East Chicago to Indianapolis?"

  She twisted her lips. "Two hours."

  "You consider that a long-distance relationship?" He chuckled. "Just imagine when I'm deployed. I'll be halfway around the world." He'd always made a clean break of any relationship when he deployed. This would be the first time he'd have someone--other than his sisters and Reggie--waiting for him to return. He smiled as he imagined a joyous Phoebe launching herself into his arms.

  But she didn't seem to enjoy the romance of it all. A stillness came over her. She covered his hand with hers, and the solemnness returned to her eyes.

  Just before she could say something, they heard Reggie's door burst open.

  "Don't worry, Miss Wilson," Leslie said as she came rushing from the room, clutching her satchel against her chest, "I won't be returning."

  "Good!" Reggie's door slammed shut.

  Phoebe bolted from the couch, reaching out to Leslie. "Is everything okay?"

  "Your aunt is a very difficult person to work with." Leslie grabbed the doorknob and opened the door. "I think it best if she found another therapist." She pulled the door closed behind her, and Ash heard her trotting from the steps.

  Ash started to laugh when he heard her peel out of the driveway. "I guess that puts an end to the threesome."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Phoebe rested her forehead against the cool wood of Ash's door. He was worming his way into her affections, and he'd left her shaken when he mentioned being deployed. After several sleepless hours imagining a return to her lonely life, she'd finally mustered up the courage to approach him. And now his bedroom light was extinguished and faint snoring sounds came from inside.

  She was reluctant to turn around. Her decision was made, and she wanted to see this through. She inhaled deeply, letting the air fill her lungs and diaphragm before she exhaled through her nose. She grasped the doorknob and twisted it slowly to see if the door was locked. When she found it wasn't, she pushed softly on the door and stepped into his room.

  "What am I doing?" she asked herself for the hundredth time. She rubbed her sweaty palms against her cotton nightgown while she crept softly towards his bed, hoping not to startle him awake.

  Moving slowly and deliberately, she slid onto the bed, lifted the covers, and pulled them over her body. His head rested on his pillow, facing her. Waves of dark hair fell over his brow, making him seem boyish and nonthreatening. She moved closer to him until she was nearly on his pillow, then she reached out, intending to trace the curve of his Cupid's bow.

  "This is kinda creepy, Phoebe."

  She surged towards him and landed on his chest, pushing him onto his back. "Good. You're awake."

  He grunted, then slapped his hand over his eyes. "I wasn't awake until you crept into my room, mumbling like a loon." He peeked through his fingers. "Why are you in my bed?"

  She didn't answer his question. She shifted to settle her head in the crook of his arm, then she pulled his arm over her body. "Tomorrow I'm going to teach you how to make cookies from scratch." She inched closer to him, threading her legs through his. "If you're up to it, I'm even willing to make some brownies."

  His chest rose and fell with each breath. She smiled at him, knowing he wanted to fall back asleep, but he was curious to know what had brought her to his room at this time of night. Something about Ash made her want to act impulsively. To make him feel as unsure of himself as she felt most of the time when she was around him.

  "What kind of cookies are we talking about?" he asked.

  She was so close to him that she could feel his heart beating. Feeling utterly adventurous, she let her hand explore the muscles of his chest, enjoying the feel of his coarse hair beneath her palm. "My personal preference is for snicker-doodles, but I'm open to just about anything."

  "I'm satisfied with chocolate chip cookies." He rested his chin against the top of her head. "As much as I love talking about cookies, I know you're just trying to deflect from my original question. Why are you in my bed in the midd
le of the night?"

  Phoebe twisted and yanked at the covers. He screeched, then clutched at the sheet.

  "Don't play coy with me, Ashley." She twisted the sheet between her fingers, trying to pry it from his grasp. "You stood, in the middle of this very room, completely naked before my eyes."

  Suddenly he bolted from his pillow and relinquished his hold on the sheet. She fell back onto the mattress, but before she could squirm back into a sitting position, he pounced on top of her.

  "You're naked, aren't you?" She already knew the answer to her question. She felt the sinewy cords of his muscles pressed against the cloth of her gown. His hard cock touched her thigh.

  "Don't act surprised." He pulled away and sank back onto his pillow. He grabbed the sheet and blanket, then settled them around his body. He punched his pillow and turned over on his side, his back to her. "By the way, you're still deflecting. How about you go back to your room, think about your answer, then catch up with me in the morning."

  She tucked her legs beneath her and listened as his breathing slowed. She could tell that he'd drifted back to sleep, and she was hesitant to wake him again. Her playfulness had evaporated, so she swung her legs over the side of the mattress and stood. She lowered her head and quickly scampered back into her own room. She pushed the door closed, then collapsed against it as she willed her heartbeat to slow.

  After a few moments, she pushed away from the door and walked to the closet where she kept her sister's hat collection. She sorted through them until she found the ugly green knit hat that her sister had loved. She buried her face deep in it, then clutched it to her body. Usually, whenever she felt alone, the hat helped her feel more connected with her sister. Because the simple truth--the reason behind her impromptu visit--was that she was lonely.

  She'd woken from a dream in which she was sitting at a table, eating breakfast with her sister. They were laughing and joking, swapping stories from Phoebe's youth. But then, Andrea's features twisted as if time had elapsed, and suddenly Phoebe was looking at Reggie. She'd bolted awake with tears flowing from her eyes.

  For several moments, she'd sat on her bed, feeling disoriented as she remembered where she was. The reality hit her, quite unexpectedly, that her sister was gone, and instead of allowing herself to grieve, she'd jumped into a complicated situation.

  When the isolation threatened to totally overwhelm her, Phoebe had sought out Ash. She hadn't really thought about sex.

  That wasn't quite true. She'd thought about sex and had been open to it, but it wasn't the primary reason why she'd sneaked into his room. She simply wanted to feel his warmth pressed against her. To hear a heartbeat instead of silence.

  Phoebe felt the pressure build behind her eyes. She sniffed loudly, then rubbed her nose against the inside of her wrist. She struggled to control her emotions, but she broke down into sobs.

  She swore she'd only been crying for a minute when her bedroom door burst open and Ash rushed into the room. He said nothing as he climbed onto her bed, tucked himself beneath her covers, and gathered her into his arms. The knit hat brushed against his chin, and he grabbed it from her and tossed it over the side of the bed.

  "You don't need that hideous thing."

  Snorting, she knew her tears soaked his skin. "I'm sorry."

  "Zip it," he said, wiggling deeper into the mattress. Phoebe opened her mouth to speak, but he shushed her back into silence. "I have four more hours before my alarm clock goes off. As charming as you are, I simply want to sleep. Okay?"

  She nodded against his chest. "Okay."

  Phoebe snuggled against him, enjoying the warmth that seeped from his skin into hers. Grateful for his presence, she began brushing kisses along his jaw.

  "Quit it," he murmured.

  "I'm sorry."

  "Shut up." He softened the words by kissing her forehead.

  She smiled, burying her face. "Thank you."

  "They had better be some damn good cookies." He opened an eye and peered through his lashes. "And don't think for one minute that your tears persuaded me one way or another."

  "Of course not."

  "Why are you still talking?"

  She laughed. "Because you're talking to me."

  "I'm only talking to you because you're talking to me." He snorted and squeezed her side. "If you keep talking, I'm going to think you don't want to sleep."

  "Maybe I don't."

  "Let me think about this." Jerking up onto his elbow, he gave her a scrutinizing look through heavy-lidded eyes. "Nope. Maybe tomorrow." And with that he turned on his side and burrowed beneath the covers.

  Phoebe wasn't disappointed by the rejection. She kissed his shoulder, then wrapped her arm around his stomach and rested her head against his. Her eyes drifted closed as he took her hand into his and placed it against his heart.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  "Okay," Phoebe said, staring deeply into his eyes. "This may be the most important question I ever ask you."

  Last night had been a turning point for them. One that Ash knew he would never fully recover from. He'd made many women cry, and he'd even managed to comfort a couple of them--well, his sisters--when he'd been able to get them within arm's reach. But he'd never felt so completely stripped raw by another person's emotions before. Phoebe had clung to him the entire night, and he'd enjoyed sharing the small, cramped bed with her--even though they hadn't had sex.

  Now the sadness was gone from her eyes. In its place was sheer determination and stubbornness. Ash stiffened his back, bracing his arm against the counter. He returned her serious stare and felt drawn into the pools of her dark eyes. "I think I know what you're going to ask me," he said. "It's about time we had this discussion."

  Phoebe shook out her long black hair and swiftly plaited it into a long braid. She then walked to the sink where she briskly washed her hands. Grabbing the towel from the stove, she dried her hands before she once again looked directly into his eyes.

  Ash puckered his lips and placed his hand on top of hers. "I know this could potentially be a deal breaker. I can practically feel the disappointment already filling the air."

  She nodded. "Trust me. I'm well aware." She inhaled deeply and flicked her tongue out to moisten her lips. "All right, Ash." Her nostrils flared as she steadied herself for the difficult conversation.

  "Crispy, chewy, or cakey?" she asked.

  "Crispy, of course." Ash flinched. He was preparing himself, but he wasn't sure if he was ready to hear her answer.

  "Ugh," she grunted, smacking her palm against the counter. "Cakey!"

  "Cookies should be crispy." Ash thought she'd lost her usually sensible mind. "If I wanted something chewy, then I'd eat candy. If I wanted something cakey, then I'd eat cake."

  Phoebe unwrapped two sticks of butter and tossed them into the mixing bowl. She then added a cup of brown sugar. "If you want a thinner and crispier cookie, then you have to add more butter and sugar."

  "And that's enough butter?"

  "Nope." She grabbed the electric mixer and hoisted it in the air. "Okay. Now you're gonna beat this until it gets fluffy."

  "Are you sure about this? Shouldn't we add the chocolate chips?"

  "We add them last." She glanced over her shoulder at the oven. "Did you turn it on?"

  "Of course I did." He pushed up the long sleeves of his thermal shirt, then he took the electric mixer from her. "I didn't know I had this."

  "You didn't. I had to run out and buy it today." She pointed back towards the stove. "I also bought a blender and electric can opener."

  He switched on the mixer, stuck it in the bowl, and turned on the switch. "Electric can openers are for the lazy."

  "Then I guess I'm lazy." She snapped her fingers, then pointed at the butter mixture. "Are you paying attention?"

  "Yeah. You said that I need to beat this until it's fluffy. It doesn't look fluffy." He tilted the bowl in her direction. "It looks grainy."

  Grabbing onto the mixer, she pried it from his hands.
"That's good enough for now. Next we'll add the eggs and vanilla." She cocked her head in the direction of two smaller bowls. "Go ahead and pour them into the bowl. You'll mix that for a minute or so, then you'll add the flour and salt."

  He followed her directions, adding the eggs and vanilla then the flour and salt. After a few minutes, she handed him the bag of chocolate chips. He grinned boyishly before opening the bag and dumping the contents into the bowl.

  "How adventurous do you feel?" she asked, standing beside him and watching his progress. When she seemed displeased with his mixing skills, she removed the spatula from his hands and began to fold the dough. "I have some coconut and walnuts we can add."

  He thought about it for a moment, then shook his head. "I'd like this first batch to be uncomplicated."

  "First batch, huh?"

  He snorted and tossed his head. "You realize you've just created a cookie-making monster, right?"

  As she laughed, she smacked the spatula against the rim of the bowl. "Tomorrow I'll show you how to make meatloaf."

  "Pass."

  "What's wrong with meatloaf?" She held the spatula in one hand as she removed a bit of dough with her finger. She was about to pop that finger into her mouth when she changed course and held her finger out to him. "Try it."

  "Are your hands clean?"

  She pulled her hand away. Glaring at him from the corner of her eye, she stuck the dough into her mouth. "Now they aren't."

  "That is gross. Unsanitary." With a thrust of his hip, he bumped her and sent her stumbling a few steps. "Please don't touch my cookies."

  "Half of those cookies are mine."

  "Like hell." He snatched the bowl from the counter and held it tightly against his chest. "You said you'd show me how to make my own cookies. You said nothing about us sharing them."

  She made to grab the bowl from him, but he bolted around the kitchen island, protecting his precious bundle. "This is not open for negotiation, Phoebe."