008: It Bothers Me

EDEN

Hayden dumps our bags in the foyer with a loud thud. He's been like a storm cloud since the jet, his jaw set, his eyes darting to me every few seconds. Almost like he's deciding whether to devour me or drown me. He still hasn’t given me an answer to my proposal. I figured I’d just let him stew in it.

I ignore him and head straight for the bedroom. One massive king bed stares back at me, mocking me. Sheer curtains flutter in the breeze from the terrace doors, framing the infinity pool beyond. Romantic bullshit.

There’s no way in hell I'm sharing that bed without boundaries.

I grab a stack of decorative pillows from the chaise and start piling them down the middle of the mattress, creating a fluffy Berlin Wall. Hayden appears in the doorway, his arms crossed, watching me with that infuriating smirk of his.

"What the hell is this?" he asks, his voice laced with amusement.

"Division of assets," I reply without looking up. "Your side. My side. Touch my territory, and I'll make you regret it."

He moves closer, towering over me. "We're married, Eden. Sharing a bed is part of the deal."

I straighten, meeting his green eyes. "The deal was a contract, not consent. Stay on your half, or sleep on the couch. Your choice, Wolfie."

His jaw ticks. "You think pillows will stop me?"

I smile sweetly. "No. But it'll remind you that just because you fucked me on a jet doesn't mean you get to touch me here."

He leans in, his breath hot on my neck. "Keep telling yourself that, squirrel."

I shove him away from me. "Try me."

Tension crackles between us like static, the fine hairs on my body rising. His eyes drop to my lips, dark and hungry. For a second, I think he'll snap, pin me to the bed, rip through the pillows, and claim what he thinks is his.

But he just exhales heavily and turns away. "Fine. For now."

I watch him stalk out, my heart pounding. Phase two starts today. Make him want me so badly, he cracks. Then pull away until he begs.

I dig into my suitcase and pull out the bikini. A scrap of red fabric that barely qualifies as clothing. Tiny triangles tied with strings and bottoms that ride high on my hips. I bought it for this exact purpose: to torture him.

I head to the bathroom for the sweetest bath, the soothing bath oils making me relax. When I'm done, I slip on my bikini, relieved that I'd packed morning-after pills for the trip.

I stare at my reflection in the mirror, humming. My curves are on full display, my skin already glowing from the tropical sun filtering in. Perfect.

I grab my journal and add a quick note: 'Day 2: Tease until he breaks. No mercy.'

Then I saunter out to the pool.

Hayden's on the terrace with his phone in his hand, pacing like a caged lion. He freezes when he sees me.

His gaze rakes over me, slow and scorching, from my bare feet up my legs, lingering on the dip of my hips and the swell of my breasts barely contained by the ties.

"What the fuck are you wearing?" he growls.

"A swimsuit." I brush past him, "accidentally" letting my arm graze his chest. His muscles tense under my touch. "Is there a problem?"

He grabs my wrist. "That's not a swimsuit. That's a goddamn invitation."

I yank my hand out of his grip. "Only if you're invited, which you're not."

I dive into the pool before he can respond, the cool water shocking my overheated skin. I surface, slicking my hair back, and float on my back, arching just enough to let the water bead on my curves.

He's still standing there, his fists clenched, his erection straining against his pants.

The look on his face is fucking priceless.

The villa's butler, Rafael, a tanned, handsome local with a warm smile, arrives with a tray of drinks. "Mrs. Wolfe? Fresh piña coladas, as requested by Mr Wolfe."

I swim to the edge and pull myself up slowly, water cascading down my body. Hayden's eyes narrow.

"Thank you, Rafael." I take the glass, letting my fingers brush his. "You're a lifesaver. This heat is unbearable."

He chuckles, his eyes dipping briefly before snapping up. "Anything for you, ma'am. If you need sunscreen applied—"

"She doesn't," Hayden snaps, appearing beside me. His hand lands possessively on my lower back.

Rafael straightens. "Of course, sir. Enjoy."

He leaves, and Hayden's grip tightens. "What the hell was that?"

I sip my drink innocently. "What? Being polite?"

"Flirting." His voice is a low rumble. "With the staff. In front of me."

I move closer, letting my wet body press against his dry shirt. Water soaks through, molding the fabric to his chest. "Jealous, Wolfie?"

His free hand comes up, his thumb tracing the strap of my top. "You want me jealous? Fine. I'm jealous. Happy?"

I laugh, but it comes out breathy. "Not yet."

I "accidentally" brush my thigh against his hardness as I turn away. He hisses through his teeth.

The afternoon drags by slowly. It eventually starts to get boring. I lounge by the pool, stretching languidly, letting the sun kiss my skin. Every time he walks by, pacing, pretending to work on his tablet, I sigh just loud enough to draw his eyes.

By dinner, he's a live wire.

We eat on the terrace. There's fresh seafood, wine, and candlelight that feels too romantic. I wear a sheer cover-up over the bikini, the fabric clinging where I'm still damp.

Halfway through, his phone rings. Grandma's face lights up the screen.

He answers on speaker, shooting me a warning look. "Gran."

"Muffinhead!" Her voice booms. "How's the honeymoon? Are you two behaving?"

Hayden pinches the bridge of his nose. "We're fine."

"Eden, darling!" Her voice is bright and cheery. "How's my favorite new granddaughter? Is the island treating you well?"

I force a smile into my voice. "It's beautiful, Gran. Thank you."

"And Hayden? Is he behaving? Or do I need to fly down and box his ears?"

I glance at him, and he looks away, strands of his hair falling over his eyes.

"He's... trying," I say.

She laughs. "That's my boy. He can be as stubborn as his grandfather, but he's still a good boy. Listen, sweetheart. I know this marriage started as business, but I've watched you two for a while. There's fire there. Real fire. Don't let pride snuff it out."

My throat tightens. "I'll try."

"Good girl. Now, important question." Her tone turns gleeful. "Have you two been... busy? I need heirs, Eden. Lots of them. Tell me you're working on it."

Heat floods my face. "Gran—"

"Don't 'Gran' me. I'm old, not dead. Is my grandson satisfying his wife?"

I close my eyes. "He's... enthusiastic."

She cackles. "That's what I like to hear! Keep him on his toes, darling. Men like him need a challenge. Call me in a few days. I want progress reports."

The call ends, and I snort as he sets the phone down.

Hayden frowns. "You think that's funny?"

"Hilarious." I rise to my feet, letting the cover-up slip off one shoulder. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to bed. Alone."

I turn to leave, and right in that moment, his chair scrapes back.

"Eden."

I keep walking. He catches me in the hallway with his hand on my arm, spinning me to face him.

"Stop this," he growls.

"Stop what?" I ask innocently. My breasts brush his chest, his arousal pressing against my thigh.

"This." His hands slide to my hips. "Teasing. Flirting with the staff. Wearing that fucking bikini like you're trying to assassinate me."

I tilt my head. "Why? Does it bother you?"

He pins me to the wall in one fluid move, his body caging mine. His thigh wedges between my legs, pressing against my core. I gasp.

"Yes," he hisses. "It bothers me."

His mouth crashes down, swallowing my protest. His hands roam, yanking the cover-up off, palming my breast through the bikini top. My nipples are so fucking hard already, poking against the fabric. And the moment his fingers tweak them, I moan despite myself, my fingers digging into his shoulders.

"Why?" he demands against my mouth, breaking away just enough to speak. "Why are you suddenly playing games? Teasing me like you want me, then pulling away?"

I laugh breathlessly. "Who says I'm playing games?"

His thigh rocks against me, friction sending sparks through my veins. "This feels pretty fucking petty."

I arch into him, my nails raking down his back. "It's called strategy, Wolfie."

He freezes. "Strategy?"

I lean in, my lips brushing his ear. "Make you want me. Make you need me. Then watch you burn when I walk away."

"You think this is a game?" he growls. "You think I wanted any of this? The contract, the ring, and the fucking island? I didn't ask for you to be dragged back into my life."

"Then why agree?" I snap. "Why sign the papers? Why put that ring on my bloody finger?"

His jaw flexes. "Because I had no choice. And because—" He stops himself, his teeth grinding.

"Because what?" I press, shoving at his chest. He doesn't budge. "Say it."