And for little old me, swimming in student loan debt, a two million dollar fee for two
years of my life sounded like a very reasonable offer.
I was a fool to ignore the chemistry that existed between us, taut like a rubber band
about to snap. At first I thought it was my imagination. I must be too plain and ordinary for a
man like him. He dated models. Supermodels.
Victoria's Secret models.
Ugh. I pressed my fingers into my temples. Maybe I should just go back to the lingerie
thing, after all.
Then again, he'd been tempted by me in grungy moving clothes. Even before our sham
wedding, it was hard for him to resist me.
And during the honeymoon, it became impossible.
I fell in love with him that night. I didn't realize it at the time, but people never do.
I didn't think I would ever understand the invisible thread that pulled us together.
There were times when I was afraid it would break. I'd wake up early one morning and I
wouldn't feel that little lurch in my heart, watching the way his lips parted in his sleep,
breathing slowly, shallow, unguarded and peaceful for perhaps the only time in his life.
But it hadn't happened yet.
As for his side of things - well, I didn't know. But it helped that I seemed able to gratify
something in him. A desire that prowled, demanding satisfaction, demanding to claim and own
and possess. No matter how many times he twisted the rope around my wrists, there was still a
flash of panic in my chest, and I was sure it reflected in my eyes. And no matter how many
times he saw it, he wanted more.
And I had grown to love that thrill, the edge of danger that wasn't really dangerous.