I tilt my chin, meeting his shadowed gazewithout flinching. “No. I thinkyouthink you own me. And to be honest, it’s wearing thin.”
There’s a beat of silence. Tension coils tighter.
“Idoown you. That ring on your finger says so.”
I laugh, bitter and breathless. “All that ring says is that our fathers know how to play at being gods.”
“Maybe,” he says, unbothered. “But I’m the one who’ll protect you from now on. And I’m the only one who’ll touch you. Period.”
My breath catches, just for a second.
I roll my eyes. “Whatever.”
After I twist off the faucet, the silence highlights my heavy breaths. Droplets roll down my spine, warm trails against flushed skin, and my hair hangs heavy, plastered to my shoulders in soaked waves.
I don’t reach for a towel because they’re rolled up on a shelf behind him.
Instead, I open the glass door and step out, steam curling around my ankles as I face him bare, dripping, defiant.
Kingston takes a single step back, not out of shock, but to give me a fraction of space. His arms remain crossed over his chest, jaw carved from stone, tension radiating off him in tightly leashed waves.
He hasn’t undressed yet, still wearing a crisp white dress shirt, sleeves rolled up his forearms, the fabric stretched slightly across shoulders built to intimidate.
His dark hair is slightly mussed, like he’s been running a hand through it since the moment I locked the bathroom door.
The tailored black pants he wears hang low on his hips, the belt loosened just enough to make my pulse skip. Andthose eyes, dark and impossible to ignore, are locked right on my wet, shivery skin.
“You done?” he asks, voice rough, deep, and dangerous.
I arch a brow, unbothered. “With the shower or with your stalker vibes?”
He prowls forward like a lion closing in. The temperature rises instantly and my pulse spikes. Drops of water slide from my collarbone to the swell of my breasts. His gaze cuts to them for a second as his jaw clenches.
“You’re lucky I like a challenge,” he murmurs.
And just like that, my breath falters.
“Out.” I stab my finger in the direction of the door. “Turn around and give me some privacy like a normal, functioning psychopath.”
Kingston’s dark eyes rake over me, unhurried and unapologetic.
“Why would I leave?” he asks. “You’ve already added my name to yours, have my ring on your finger, and my cum in your cunt. What’s a little nakedness between newlyweds?”
I narrow my eyes. “Kingston, get out. Leave me alone. We’re not actual newlyweds. Not behind closed doors.”
His smirk curves with pure male arrogance. Slow, taunting, and utterly infuriating.
“You sure?” he asks, a gorgeous grin on his handsome face. “And here I was… just about to help out by rubbing moisturizer into your creamy Irish skin. You know, like a caring functioning psychopath would.”
My lips part in disbelief. “I swear to God?—”
“Relax, princess.” He chuckles,backing up a single step. “Your bratty attitude is safe for now. But you keep talking like that, and I’ll have to take matters into my own hands.”
“And do what?” I snap, chin high.
He winks. “Teach you manners, princess.”
With that, he does a one-eighty, not in retreat, but in victory, giving me space becausehedecided to. His hands slip into his pockets as he heads for the door.
