Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 112457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 562(@200wpm)___ 450(@250wpm)___ 375(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 562(@200wpm)___ 450(@250wpm)___ 375(@300wpm)
He motioned for her to enter.
With nowhere else to go and no other choice, she stepped over the threshold and walked to the bed. It was covered with plush cushions and soft looking throws.
“You look so small against the backdrop of that bed,” he said behind her.
She jumped, her nerves all over the place.
“This is the bed where my ancestors consummated their marriages. It seemed fitting to bring you here.”
Those words breathed a layer of frost over her heart. They meant he was finally embracing the heritage he’d refused to acknowledge before, a heritage that reminded him of his difficult past. He’d never find peace if he couldn’t accept that past. What it meant for her was something entirely different. She’d never be able to make peace with the future he was forcing on her.
She turned to look up at him. His eyes appeared darker in the soft light of the flames, harder. If she had any hope of changing his mind, it vanished with the cold calculation and heated determination she saw on his face.
“How did you manage all of this?” she asked, stalling, delaying the inevitable.
“A florist owed me a favor.” He managed a smile, but the gesture was mechanical. “Do you like it?”
“It’s very pretty.”
“Good.” He cupped her cheek. “I want tonight to be perfect.”
Like their first time hadn’t been. Sadness made her feel raw. Maybe there hadn’t been candlelight and flowers or vows and wedding rings, but it had been perfect in its own way, to her at least.
Bending down, he pressed a soft kiss to her lips. She couldn’t stop the quiver that moved through her.
He pulled away. “Nervous?”
“Yes.” What was the point of lying? This wasn’t a honeymoon. Their circumstances were far from normal.
“Do you remember how you felt in the forest when I made you come in my hand?”
How could she not? Her stomach heated at the memory.
“This is going to be a lot more intense,” he continued.
Her heartbeat pulsed in her temples. “I’ve done it, remember?”
“I don’t. I don’t remember if I went easy on you or gave it my all.” Intent infused his tone. “I can promise you however, I will be gentle tonight.”
“Why, Joss, don’t hold back on my behalf,” she said in a catty tone.
“I did promise to make love to you.”
No fucking. Fear mixed with anticipation, tightening her body. The wetness pooling between her thighs was both unexpected and unwanted.
“Will you say yes?” he asked.
The same question he’d posed in Paris. Earlier, in the chapel, it had occurred to her. She’d thought it had referred to a different question then, to, Will you say yes if I asked you to marry me? Instead it pertained to this, to, Will you let me fuck you?
He waited patiently as she contemplated her options. Yes or no.
“You’re giving me a choice?” she asked.
“This I won’t force.”
Only marriage. “What if I never say yes?”
“I can be convincing.” His lips twitched. “I have my ways.”
“Seduction, you mean,” she said with a hint of bitterness, because hadn’t her girlish dreams of him already seduced her with false truths? Not that she could blame him for that. That blame was hers to carry, a mistake made by her foolish heart.
“Eventually,” he said, sounding much too sure of himself, “I will wear you down.”
Her answer was snide. “May as well just get it over with then.”
An answering challenge flickered in his eyes. “As you wish.”
Like a dog that had growled at a lion, she could only stand there, suddenly uncertain and not sure how to proceed, but Joss made it easy by saying, “Turn around,” and thereby taking the lead.
This was the true moment. She’d given him her verbal answer, but the choice weighed so much heavier when it came down to action. For a moment, she hesitated, fearing the consequences, but the sooner they started the sooner it would be over. Turning around, she gave him her consent.
Like in the chapel, his fingers manipulated the buttons of her dress, but this time his hands worked their way down from her nape, skimming a path down her spine. Ripples ran over her skin, waking goosebumps.
When the dress fell open around her waist, he said, “Lift your arms.”
She obeyed. With his hands on her hips, he turned her back to face him. Going down on one knee, he pushed the dress up her legs and hips, and, straightening as he went, finally over her head to leave her only in her lace underwear and the boots that didn’t match the wedding attire.
He threw the dress over the chest at the foot of the bed and dragged a heated gaze over her body before reaching for her again, this time to push the straps of her bra over her shoulders before releasing the clip at the back.
Her nipples contracted when he pulled away the underwear and let it drop at her feet. Their eyes met as he tore his gaze away from her breasts. The gray of his irises turned a shade darker when he cupped her breasts. She gasped at the contact, her breasts turning heavy. He stroked the tips with his palms, causing her stomach to flutter as they hardened. She didn’t expect the gentle pinch that extended her nipples. Satisfaction bled into his eyes when an unguarded moan escaped her lips.