"Dammit woman, talk to me," Zach pulls at his hair in frustration; his eyes never leave my face. There is a hint of sadness in his voice but other than that, he sounds cynically mad.
I shake my head no, with my gaze still on the floor. Suddenly, he...
He has gotten rid of the suit. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled back, showcasing his forearms and the top few buttons of his shirt are also open. I try not to gawk at him openly when I see his dishevelled soft hair that he no doubt has run his hands many times.
He looks at me with a guarded expression and I wish I knew what he is thinking.
I offer him a small smile which he doesn't react to. Instead, his eyes fall to my lips and before I get wrong ideas, I walk to him and turn around.
"What?" his husky voice makes my knees weak and I never knew his voice had that effect on me.
"The z-zip," I squeak, realizing that this was the second time I was talking to him. I didn't feel anxious this time and it almost felt normal to speak to him.
After some heavy breaths, he pulls my hair to the side and his breath hits my neck. I am aware of the fresh scars decorating my skin. He doesn't say anything.
Contrast to his hot breath on my neck, his hands are cold and I shiver when I feel his knuckles trace the skin on my back as he slides the zipper down. The romance novels and books I read could never describe how I feel when he does that.
His hand reaches the end of the zip but he doesn't pull back. Instead, he leans.
"A pretty thing you are, Ella," he breathes out. My heart thuds in my chest and I feel my stomach clench. I take a deep. He is still attracted to me.
I take a deep breath.
"I am n-not a 'thing'."
Zach chuckles, not moving from his position. His fingers curl on my waist.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way. I just wanted to tell you- you're really pretty."
His deep husky voice only increases the butterflies on my stomach and for someone who hadn't been touched like this in seven years, I sure had forgotten this feeling. I clutch the dress to my chest.
"Aren't- aren't," my throat closes. I try my best to take my mind off the consequences when I would speak. This was Zach, not Robert, he wouldn't do anything to me, I convince myself.
Zach softly squeezes my hips, asking me to complete the question silently. Taking a big gulp of air, I try again.
"Aren't you b-bothered by my scars?"
I have abruptly turned around and I raise my head to look into his eyes, trying to understand what he is going through his mind.
"They don't bother me."
What? They were downright ugly. Looking at my confused face, he adds.
"I am proud of you, you know? You are so strong," his voice breaks a little, so little I barely notice.
Reality then sinks in and I realize the position I am in. Zach unwraps his hand from my waist and with a final look at him, I walk to the bathroom and lock the door behind me, holding the wedding dress to my chest.
After what Zach had promised, I didn't think he'd still be so sweet and gentle with me. I get off the dress and get into the shower. I need that long shower.
After coming out from Zach wouldn't even look at me. Maybe he realized he shouldn't be that sweet to 'a money-hungry bitch who broke his heart' and honestly, I couldn't blame him.
He takes a shower himself while I snuggle into his covers and pull it over my body. Just in time, I remember seeing something above his bed, the portrait! I crane my neck and look above me to find nothing.
Okay, that was definitely a dream. A very unrealistic one at that.
I make myself comfortable and grab the small blue diary and pen I had placed on the bedside table. I start writing everything about the day, specifically how I wished I knew what had happened to Zach's dad.
The opening of door and footsteps make me stop and I raise my head.
My jaw hits the ground when Zach casually walks to the bed with a towel hanging on his shoulders, messing with his wet hair and completely shirtless. His pajama pants are hanging low on his waist and with a very red face, I look at him.
He looks at me casually, as if sharing room with your new fake wife was a normal thing to do. His eyes fall on the blue diary I am clutching tightly. His eyebrows shoot together for a second before he looks at me.
Why in the hell am I feeling butterflies in my stomach?
He passes me a small smile before settling next to me. Didn't he say he'd be 'using' and 'torturing' me? Is he trying to torture me with sweetness or what?
I knew it.
Empty threats.
One thing is for sure. Sharing a bed with him is going to result in me not getting any sleep.
At all.
.
unedited.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
