"Are you smiling because you're thinking of another 'close encounter' tonight? Just so you know, I don't feel anything for you. You're not my type," Lucas teased lazily, unaware that Claire's expression had suddenly changed.
"Lucas! What exactly do you mean by that?" Claire's voice was loud and furious.
"What do you think I mean?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. *Was the lamb finally baring its fangs like a tiger?*
"Why did you agree to marry me, then?"
"You know the reason very well. My parents were pressuring me into marriage," he replied.
Claire felt a tightness in her chest. Was that really the only reason? He agreed to marry her just because of parental pressure? What else did she expect? She knew he didn't like her, yet she'd foolishly hoped he'd one day feel the same way about her as she did about him.
"Snail Girl, are you asking because you've fallen for me? Are you hoping for something more?" His voice was low, almost a whisper in her ear.
Claire looked up quickly, her eyes wide, startled by his proximity.
"Don't flatter yourself! Me? Fall for you? Just drive!" she snapped, her cheeks reddening. *Fine, maybe she liked him, but it wasn't love. Not yet, at least.*
Lucas shrugged, giving her a lopsided smile. "Good. Let's keep it that way. And just so we're clear, it's not only you—I'm not interested in any woman right now," he said, hoping it would solidify the lie he'd told to keep his ex at bay.
Claire froze, shocked. *Did he just say he had no interest in women?*
"Wait... does that mean…" *Could his rumored ED actually be true?*
Lucas was about to ask why she looked so surprised but noticed that they'd arrived at the jewelry store.
---
A week after the wedding.
"Hey, wake up, Snail Girl." Lucas nudged the sleeping Claire beside him, gently peeling her leg off where it was draped across his thigh. To his surprise, he caught sight of the corner of her pink underwear. His hand, almost involuntarily, followed the curve of her leg.
"Mmm…" She mumbled, shifting in her sleep, her foot stubbornly staying where it was—even pinning his hand between their legs.
*Damn!* Every morning he woke up to this scene that was testing the limits of his self-control. And it was all because he had insisted he felt nothing for her, even going so far as to fake ED to ward off an ex.
But he was a healthy man—so healthy that every time he so much as brushed against her, he felt an uncomfortable warmth spread through him. But now all he could do was resist, doing his best to suppress these feelings.
"CLAIRE! We're going to be late!" he bellowed, his voice echoing through the house.
Predictably, Claire bolted upright in bed, scrambling to her feet. She paused, looking around the room, then locked eyes with him.
"How am I in *your* bed again?" she asked, her face turning red. *How many times had this happened? She clearly remembered sleeping on the couch—why was she always waking up in his bed?*
"Less talking, more breakfast! We're going to be late!" Lucas threw off the covers and stood up, letting his robe fall to the floor.
"Ahh! What are you doing?" Claire shrieked, covering her eyes. *Was he an exhibitionist or what? Why did he always have to strip right in front of her?*
Lucas glanced back at her lazily, raising an eyebrow. "I'm changing my pants. What did you think?"
"Oh… right." *Maybe her mind was the one that was in the gutter,* she realized, embarrassed.
"What are you standing there for? Go make breakfast," he ordered, slipping on a pair of silk pants that hugged his hips and outlined his figure perfectly.
Claire gulped, her gaze lingering. "But I thought your mom—" she started, before suddenly realizing that his parents were in the U.S. visiting his sister.
Catching his sharp stare, Claire quickly stuck out her tongue and dashed downstairs to start breakfast, her cheeks flushed.