Married By Mistake

what we said this afternoon, and I don’t think we should...you know.”
    “If you’re worried this will affect our annulment, Sam found out the nonconsummation thing is mainly used in church annulments. Our case is based on the fact we didn’t know it was a real marriage.”
    “Adam,” she said, “Sam told me he talked to you about us staying married for real.”
    He put down his knife and fork. “I was going to talk to you about that.”
    “Before we made love, or after?”
    “After I’d figured out whether I thought it was a good idea,” he said. “It had nothing to do with you and me going to bed.”
    When she glared at him, he said, “Okay, maybe it did...speed things up a bit. But you know I wanted you before that. I wanted you the day I met you, though maybe I didn’t acknowledge it then. I want you now.”
    Casey didn’t know what to believe. What had he said to her the day they’d met? That people should know what they want and go after it. He could at least pretend he cares. She pulled herself up short. She’d said she didn’t want to be loved just for what she could do for a man—the implied corollary being that she wanted to be loved for herself. But wasn’t it equally true that if Adam wanted to ask something of her, he should do it honestly, without pretending it involved love?
    “What did you decide...about Sam’s suggestion?”
    Adam shifted in his chair. “It has its pros and cons.”
    “Would you like to share those with me?”
    “No,” he said. “I’d like to go to bed with you.”
    He hadn’t said make love.
    “Very much,” he added. When she didn’t respond, he said, “More than I’ve ever wanted to before.” He sounded surprised, yet about as excited as if he was discussing the scheduling of this week’s TV movies. Maybe even less excited. Then he added, “I know you want the same thing.”
    “On...” Casey’s voice came out raspy, so she cleared her throat and tried again, striving for the same detachment. “On one level, that’s true.” She saw the flare of triumph in his eyes. “But wanting it doesn’t mean it’s a good idea.”
    He pushed his chair back and stood, then walked around to her side of the table, his tread deliberate, intent. Casey was forced to lean back in her seat to meet his gaze. He loomed over her, searching her face with smoldering eyes, and the masculine heat that emanated from him scorched Casey’s nerve endings. He hadn’t touched her yet.
    He rectified that by pulling her from her seat. Leaning against the edge of the table, he stationed her between his legs, facing him, his hard thighs around hers to keep her in place. His hands clasped her waist, not tightly, but with enough possessiveness to tell her he wouldn’t readily let her go.
    “I don’t know if it’s a good idea for us to stay married,” he said, “but I do know this is a good idea.”
    He dipped his head, took her mouth with certitude. Beguiled by his tongue’s provocative exploration, Casey lost the thread of her argument. She opened to his moist caress, felt a thick warmth spread through her, deadening any senses that weren’t employed in touching and tasting Adam.
    He flicked the buttons of her shirt undone, parted it to reveal her breasts, full and aching in her lacy bra. His eyes darkened, and when he lowered his mouth there, she thought her legs might collapse from under her. She leaned into him, felt his unmistakable hardness, and clutched at his hair.
    “Sweetheart,” he breathed, as his hands moved to the zipper of her skirt.
    For the briefest instant, she reveled in the endearment. Then the voice of reason whispered, He doesn’t mean it.
    Casey wanted to scream, to drown out the thought. But she couldn’t ignore it. She tugged on Adam’s hair, lifting his head so she could see his eyes. “Stop,” she said.
    To her surprise, the word came out with sufficient authority that Adam did stop. He straightened, put some space between them as Casey did up the buttons of her blouse, trying to ignore the scrape of her fingers against the oversensitized skin of her breasts.
    “I’m not going to make love to you,” she said. “It’ll complicate everything and I won’t be able to decide what I want. You know that, and you’re using sex to manipulate me.”
    His eyes darkened again, this time with anger. “I’m not like your family or your boyfriend. I want you, you want me—it can be that simple, if you’ll let it.”
    She folded her