Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78811 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78811 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
But I have to believe he will keep his word. I have no choice. It’s the only way to remain sane.
He steps toward the table set near one of the windows where a bottle of champagne sits in a silver bucket filled with ice, along with a half-full bottle of whiskey beside it. The champagne has been freshly placed. He pops the cork, and I watch the liquid bubble over the side as he pours two glasses. Does he really think we’re doing this? Celebrating this?
He carries both glasses toward me and holds one out.
“To my beautiful bride.” Is that mockery in his voice? Anything I saw in his eyes earlier is gone. I watch as he swallows the contents of one glass.
I snort. “You mean your forced bride.” We’re firmly back on our separate sides of this boxing ring. I wonder if he needs to do this to be able to continue. If he needs to see me as an enemy, an enemy and a pawn, to do what he is going to do. What needs to happen.
“You are beautiful,” he says as he looks at me closely. I feel myself flush. He must see it because he smiles. “Drink it.”
“No, thank you. I’m tired.”
“Already,” he says. “That does not bode well for a long marriage, considering it’s our wedding night.” I watch him down the contents of the second glass before setting both aside and looking me over, one corner of his mouth lifting. “Get undressed.”
“Déjà vu.”
He steps toward me, amusement brightening his eyes. “Nah. Last time was to search you. Tonight is to fuck you.” Heat flushes through me at his crude words. I should be offended, but when he lifts the hair off my shoulders, letting it fall between his fingers almost fondly and sets it back, it’s not offense I feel. My lips swell with an ache to be bruised by his, and my body remembers the touch of his hands on me. The promise he made to finish what he started.
“If you want to get off, you’re going to have to use your hand tonight. I’m not sleeping with you.” I say it with more force than I feel and move to step away, but he captures my arm and tugs me back.
“You want it as much as I do, Dandelion. Don’t lie to yourself. Never lie to yourself. That’s another life lesson from me. You’re welcome.”
“You’re an asshole, you know that?” I tug, but he doesn’t let go.
He grins, but a moment later, that amusement is gone. “Our marriage will be consummated.”
I falter momentarily but catch myself. I can’t give him everything. I need to control some part of this. “I have a better idea. How about if we don’t fuck and say we did?”
“You don’t back down. I like that about you, Dandelion. It may be my favorite part.”
“Should I be flattered?”
“Rules are rules. You can blame the church. Get undressed.”
“You know what? I think I’ll have that drink after all. It’ll help tamp down the nausea.”
He releases me and walks to the table to pour me a glass. “I don’t recall you feeling nauseous when I touched you before.” He pauses, and I think he’s finished, but he continues. “Or when I kissed you.”
His tone is different during that last part. The kiss. I’m surprised he brings it up and glad he has his back to me so he can’t see my face. But I wonder, given how he sounded, how he’s not looking at me, either, if it impacted him like it did me.
It’s my turn to look away when he carries the glass to me. I try the door, knowing it’s locked, and if it isn’t, I’m not going anywhere anyway. He holds the champagne out for me when I face him again. I take it, swallowing it all down then immediately coughing because the bubbles are too much.
He grins. “Take it easy, Dandelion. We have all night. No need to rush things.” He takes the glass and sets it aside.
“That’s not what I was doing.”
He sets one big hand over my stomach. My back is to the door, and he’s as close as he can be without our bodies touching. His face grows serious. “This has to happen. You can fight it and make it hard for yourself, or you can enjoy it and make it easy. Either way, I’ll be sure to make you come. Ladies first and all.”
“How romantic you are. I don’t want to come.”
“We’ve talked about this. Everyone wants to come.”
“I don’t want to come with you.”
“Is there someone else? My brother, perhaps? He’ll have his turn.”
“This isn’t a joke,” I say only after a long pause to process the last of what he said.
“No, it’s not a joke, Dandelion,” he says seriously. “But it does need to happen, and it will happen.” He studies me, dark eyes searching my face. “I won’t hurt you. You don’t have to be afraid.”