Jameson Fox
By: Nina LevineHe keeps his hands on me, unwilling to yield. In the end, it’s his phone that causes him to let go. A call comes in and he pulls the phone from his pocket.
Glancing back up at me after checking the caller ID, he says, “This conversation isn’t finished, Adeline.” Then, stabbing at the phone, he barks, “This better be important, Ashton. I’m at my wedding.”
Ashton says something to him that causes him to walk away and exit the room. I watch him leave, my hate for him roaring to life.
How dare he think he can tell me what I can and can’t do?
We survived our engagement, just, and I thought I’d made it clear I won’t be controlled. It seems I haven’t been clear enough. Going forward, I will be. I’ll make it crystal fucking clear that I have no intention of bowing down to his demands. We might be husband and wife now, and we might have to get through a year together, but that doesn’t mean I have to ask “how fucking high” whenever he says “jump.”
Jameson Fox might reign over everything in his kingdom, but he’ll never reign over me.
1
Jameson
Removing my jacket, I drop it on the armchair in the corner of my bedroom before undoing the buttons on my vest. My eyes are firmly on my wife as she walks into her walk-in closet. Hell, I can’t take my eyes off her. This displeases me as much as her behavior has today. But Adeline is not a woman any man can take his eyes off.
It’s not her beauty that commands my attention, but rather the way she holds herself. The way she owns a room without an ounce of effort. And as much as it fucking pains me, it’s also the way she doesn’t back down from me.
“I’m going to need more space,” she says, rejoining me in the bedroom.
I lift my brows. “One thousand square feet isn’t enough for you?”
“No.”
The challenge in her tone hits my dick.
Christ.
It’s been three months since I’ve fucked anyone. It’s also been three months of living and breathing Adeline. To say my dick is on edge is a fucking understatement.
I remove my vest and undo the top button of my shirt. “It’ll have to do.”
“No, Jameson, it won’t do. If I have to live here for a year, I’ll be bringing more stuff with me than will fit in there.” She eyes my closet on the other side of the bed. “It’s an easy fix. Remodel yours so it’s smaller and give me the extra space.”
This is the first time Adeline’s been in my bedroom. After I proposed my marriage deal to her three months ago, she’s barely been to my penthouse. Any time we’ve spent together has been out. For show.
I work my way down my buttons. “It’s one year, Adeline. I’m not remodeling.” Everything in this penthouse was custom designed. I’m not changing it for this.
Pulling my shirt off, I walk into my bathroom and drop it in the laundry basket, wondering why the fuck I didn’t anticipate this. Foreseeing future problems is a strength of mine, but I clearly didn’t put enough thought into my marriage and the issues it would throw up.
After showering, during which I try to solve the hotel development challenges Ashton detailed for me earlier when he called during the wedding reception, I wrap my towel around my waist and enter the bedroom again. Adeline is nowhere to be seen, so I pull on some sweatpants and go in search of her. Failing to locate her in the kitchen, library, or great room, I check the other end of the penthouse and find her in one of my five spare bedrooms.
She’s changed out of the dress she wore for the reception, the one that hugged her curves in ways I know I’ll struggle to remove from my memory, and now wears a pair of white satin pajamas. The shorts cover her ass, but show off her long, tanned legs. I appreciate all parts of a woman’s body, but legs are my downfall. Legs and breasts, and Adeline has been built for my destruction in these areas.
“Why are you in here?” I ask.
Glancing up from the bed where she sits, she says, “I’ve decided to sleep in here.”
“That’s not what we agreed upon.”
“Well, I also didn’t agree upon other things that happened today or that I’ve now been presented with here, so I guess we’ve both got to learn to be adaptable.”
