Method for Matrimony – Jupiter Tides Read Online Anne Malcom

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Suspense Tags Authors: Anne Malcom Advertisement

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So yeah, she was pretty damn impressive.

I didn’t own a leather skirt or anything silk that required being dry-cleaned.

I went with a cotton sundress that dipped way in the front with a long hemline, paired with chunky boots. Then I’d smudged on some black eyeliner and tousled my hair a bit.

I’d decided I was in my ‘Beth Dutton on the ranch’ era. Nora and I were kind of obsessed with Yellowstone.

“Where are you two going?” Kip asked me after he’d checked me out enough to make my upper lip sweat.

“Out,” I replied, jutting my chin up, daring him to tell me I couldn’t. I hadn’t been to a bar since the first night we fucked. He had that same possessive, wild glint in his eye now that he had then.

Kip looked from Calliope to me. “You two get in trouble, you call me,” he said.

“We’re not gonna get in trouble,” I scoffed.

His gaze zeroed in on me, and he leaned in to kiss my forehead. “You call me,” he murmured, swatting my ass before letting me go.

kip

I was disappointed to come home and find Calliope there, especially with Fiona looking too far sexy to be doing anything but going somewhere with me.

Then I was pissed off that I was disappointed about those things.

First off, this wasn’t my home.

I didn’t have one of those. Even if I had my name on the title of this place.

I had my old place, the one I still owned, that sat empty and I’d be sleeping in when this shit was said and done.

And Fiona was not mine.

She was someone I was doing a favor, someone I was fucking, and someone I was married to—for legal purposes only.

I should not give a fuck about her going out to a bar with a friend. I should not care about men looking at her hair, her tits, her ass. Not necessarily in that order.

But I did.

I wanted to follow her to the fucking bar and beat the shit out of any man who looked at her too long.

“I just need to pee before we go,” Fiona announced to the room as she and Calliope were readying to go.

“Breaking the seal,” Calliope said with an arched brow. “Rookie.”

Fiona waved her hand. “I am many things, but I am not a rookie.” She winked at me, and I fucking felt it in my dick.

I watched her ass as she walked away and wondered how in the fuck I was going to get through the night waiting for her to get home so I could fuck her.

Worse than that, I didn’t just want her to get home so I could fuck her. I wanted her to get home so I could fall asleep with her. So I could wake up in the middle of the night, smell her, listen to her fucking breathe.

“I never thought I’d see the day,” Calliope commented.

I snapped myself out of it, staring at my old friend. She looked great. Calliope always did. She’d never hit that awkward stage in junior high, with pimples or limbs that were slightly too long. Nope, she’d just… bloomed.

Sure, it had a lot to do with her physical attributes, the shiny black hair, the porcelain skin… and yeah, she developed great tits pretty early.

I’d noticed all of this at a distance. And one time pretty fucking close up when I was a horny thirteen-year-old who was jacking off constantly and always looking for new material. It was summer. We had a pool. Calliope had a bikini. It was bound to happen.

Then I’d seen her the next day and she’d looked at me with that sharp gaze of hers that made even adults uncomfortable, and I was so fucking sure she somehow knew I’d jerked off to her, and yeah, I never did it again.

“See what day?” I asked, heading to the fridge for a beer.

“You, domesticated,” she replied, nodding around the house. “With someone who I never thought would be domesticated either.” She looked toward where Fiona had gone. Her sharp gaze went to me, much like it had that summer years ago. And just like it had that summer, I was sure she had the ability to read my mind.

“It’s… interesting,” she said, putting her elbows on the counter to stare at me.

I’d had a gun pointed at me, multiple times. Been shot at more times than I could count. Yet it was this five-foot-nothing, hundred and fifty pounds soaking wet woman who could scare the shit out of me with a simple look.

I glanced toward the hall, where Fiona had not yet emerged. I leaned forward. “Fiona doesn’t know about… you know.”

All these years and I still couldn’t say it out loud. What a fucking coward.

But I didn’t need to say it out loud. Calliope knew exactly what I was talking about.

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