"Do you have something against cuddling?" he murmurs, his lips against my hair.

"I didn't know it was in my contract to cuddle," I retort.

"Calm down. I won't do anything."

I relax a little. "You promise you're not going to try anything funny?"

"Funny? Nope," he replies, but something feels fishy about it.

I stay quiet, trying to lower my racing pulse.

He adds, "Not unless you want me to."

I nudge him in the ribs. He laughs. "Ouch! Between that and your slap, you're pretty vicious, Sunshine."

Against the advice from the voice in my head, I snuggle closer to his chest and close my eyes. I warn, "Well, now you know what I'm capable of, so no funny business."

He grunts.

No matter how hard I try to sleep, I can't. All I can smell is him. All I hear is his breathing mixing with my pulse pounding between my ears. And tingles attack every part of my body.

What's worse is I don't think I've ever craved anyone before. Right now, at this moment, I'm not sure how I'm going to make it through the night with Sebastian Cartwright.

Then, he makes it even harder.

Twelve

SEBASTIAN

Georgia's sugary-rose scent flares in my nostrils, taunting me to break my promise to her.

I'm trying to be good. I don't want her pissed at me again, and her body is finally relaxed against mine.

Still, my cock is hard as steel. My palm hasn't left her upper thigh, and I'm surprised she's let me keep it there. I glance at the digital clock.

Ten minutes.

Six hundred seconds of holding myself back from disturbing her.

I cave, questioning, "What did you decide for the wedding?"

Her body stiffens, then she slowly rolls farther into me, lifting her head off my chest. Her blues are barely visible against the darkness, and her hot breath hits my chest. She answers, "We got off track."

The conversation about my ex-fiancées hits me again. I grunt. "Doesn't surprise me."

She asks, "What do you want for the wedding?"

I admit the only thing I truly care about. "That you show up and say 'I do.'"

She tilts her head, a smile playing on her lips. "Done deal. I signed the prenup, remember?"

The sting of too many failed attempts down the aisle reappears. I try to ignore it and inquire, "So what do you want for it?"

"Something simple," she states.

"Simple?" I ask, unable to comprehend it or hide my shock. All the women I asked to marry me wanted lavish, over-the-top events.

Her voice turns offended. "What's wrong with simple?"

I can't help myself and slide my hand along her cheek, dragging my thumb over her lips. I murmur, "Nothing is wrong with it, Sunshine."

She pins her eyebrows together, asking, "No?"

"No, not at all."

"Then why did you sound like it was?" she inquires.