The Sinfully Wedded

Chapter 7

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"You have got to be fucking kidding me," Sinn muttered as he stepped into the room. As he cursed at the world and got his things inside, I stood at the door. I could feel heat creeping up on my cheeks as I looked at the bed, which didn't look very big, meaning he and I would be very close to each other if this went the way I thought it would.

There's no way this is happening right now.

"Well, are you coming princess, or would you rather sleep in the hallway?" He said, placing his suitcase on the far side of the room. I gulped, tightened my hold on my bag and took a step inside, closing the door behind me.

"Sinn?" I murmured.

"What?" He was turned away from me, rummaging through his things.

"We aren't actually going to sleep in that bed together, right?" I asked, nervously fiddling with my mom's bracelet.

"Of course not," he shook his head with a slight chuckled and my shoulders fell in relief, "you're sleeping on the floor." My eyebrows pulled together in shock and anger as he turned to look at me, a laptop now in his hands and an amused expression on his face.

"No, I am not," I disagreed, "why should I have to sleep on the floor? How come you get the bed?"

"Well, why shouldn't I get the bed?" He tossed his laptop onto it and crossed his arms.

"I am a woman Sinn! A proper gentleman would sleep on the floor to be kind and thoughtful," I argued.

"Hm," he nodded, "maybe in the 1950s but I feel that times have changed. You don't need a man treating you like a queen when you can do that yourself, right? Or, have you not been keeping up with society's revolutionaries?"

Oh.

The longer I stared at him, the more taunting his smirk became as he looked at me. I felt my chest start to rise and fall at a fast pace as my eyes rapidly blinked back tears of frustration. My lower lip quivered and the sight of him became blurry.

"You," I forced out, exhaling hard through my nose as tears started to fall while his smile fell and an uncomfortable expression appeared, "you deserve this." In a hurry, I climbed over the bed and reached out for the collar of his shirt while fisting my free hand and closing it in on his face.

Shockingly, he was quick enough to stop it, not even flinching as he looked up at me but still allowed for my hand to wrinkle his shirt. But I didn't give up due to all of the pent-up anger and used all my strength to pull him onto the bed.

Without a second thought, as I straddled his waist and caught him at his weakest moment, my fist flew to his face, making it snap to the side.

"Fuck," he groaned in pain as his hand came up and held his cheek. I gasped, immediately feeling guilt tear through my heart as blood poured out of his cheek and I remembered I was wearing my engagement ring.

"Oh my God, are you okay?" I pulled his hand away, which was already coated with a little bit of blood and cringed at the mark I left behind, "I'm so sorry, I don't know why I did that." I climbed off of him, fear making me feel nauseous as I swallowed hard, wondering what he was going to do to me.

"Goddamn," he sat up, looking at the blood in his hand then letting out a soft chuckle while I stood there like a deer in headlights, frightened out of my mind as my hands shook at my sides.

Whatever he does to me now was my fault. I shouldn't have done that, it was just a moment of weakness.

"Holy shit, why are you shaking so much?" He brought me back to earth as he stood up with a surprisingly calm look on his face.