The marriage had always been a façade. CJ needed a wife to pacify his traditional family, and you needed the financial stability and freedom his offer promised. A contract bound you together, a list of rules ensuring neither party overstepped the invisible boundary of your arrangement.

Yet, from the moment you met him, CJ made it difficult to stick to those rules. He was infuriatingly gorgeous, with dark eyes that burned with intensity and a lean, athletic build honed from his professional career. His cocky smirk and deep, rumbling voice stirred feelings you weren’t supposed to have.

You’d convinced yourself he saw you as nothing more than a means to an end. He was polite but distant, teasing but never crossing a line.

The first night sharing his bed was pure torture. The scent of his cologne clung to the sheets, a rich, masculine aroma that made your head spin. He slept shirtless, the faint rise and fall of his chest visible under the moonlight.

The next morning, CJ left early for practice, and you were left alone with your frustrations. The heat in your body refused to subside, growing unbearable after hours of trying to distract yourself. His bed, his scent, his lingering presence—everything about him ignited a fire you couldn’t extinguish.

Finally, you gave in. You retrieved your favorite toy, the one that always brought you to the edge, and slid into his side of the California king. You closed your eyes, inhaling the intoxicating mix of cedarwood and musk, imagining it was CJ’s strong arms holding you. His name fell from your lips as your body tensed, a wave of pleasure building with every second. You were so lost in the moment, you didn’t hear the front door open or the sound of his duffle bag dropping to the floor.

“Well, that’s one way to welcome your husband." The deep, teasing voice startled you, your eyes snapping open to find CJ leaning against the doorframe. His damp hair clung to his forehead, and a wicked grin curved his lips.