“Shower or bath?” he asked.
Her gaze went to the bathing pool in the center of the room, the water rippling slightly from the recirculation system that kept the water supply clean at all times. Steam rose from the surface, and he could tell she wanted to take a bath.
But practicality won out.
“Shower,” she answered.
She didn’t resist as he gripped her hips again and marched her toward the huge, glass-walled shower. The hair clip she’d left around the towel bar in her room was now on the towel rack next to his shower. Her shampoo, conditioner, soap, and razor were on their own shelf in the corner of the tiled stall.
“You weren’t joking,” she said.
“About?”
“That you had all my things moved in here.”
He continued urging her into the stall. “Of course, I was serious.”
Dominique wasn’t sure what to say. His behavior was so different than before. She thought he hated her, but his attitude now was much more…affectionate.
Unable to process everything she was thinking, Dominique grabbed her hair clip and piled her hair on top of her head. Unsurprisingly, Ronan followed her into the shower, where she tried to ignore him and focus on washing off quickly, but it was impossible.
Her eyes kept wandering over his naked body. Water and the lather from his soap ran down the lean lines of his muscles, and she couldn’t tear her gaze away.
“You’re running out of time, Princess,” he said.
His words shook her out of the trance, and she hurried to finish washing her face and body. Ronan had already finished and gotten out when she turned off the faucets. Dominique hurriedly ran a towel over her body before she took her robe from the hook on the wall and exited the bathroom.
Ronan was nowhere in sight, but Dominique assumed her clothes were in the closet and walked to the open door. She stopped just outside the door, leaning a shoulder against the jamb as she watched Ronan pull a pair of black athletic pants over matching black briefs. The muscles in his back flexed as he reached up to grab a T-shirt—also black.
“Are you going to stand there in your robe and watch me or are you going to get dressed?” he asked.
“Just taking in the free show,” she quipped. “And there’s no use in getting dressed since the dressmaker will just make me remove my clothing before trying on the gown he made.”
At her words, Ronan’s head snapped around. “What? He? The royal dressmaker is a woman!”
“No, the royal dressmaker was a woman until two years ago. Now, it’s a man,” Dominique replied, pushing away from the door, and heading toward a grouping of drawers on the opposite wall from Ronan’s clothing. Since the outfits she’d packed were hanging on the rail above them, she assumed her underclothes and nightwear were inside them.
Sure enough, her bras and panties were neatly stowed in the top drawer. Dominique selected a strapless bra and thong, knowing that she would wear them beneath the dress when she married Ronan tomorrow.
The thought of her rapidly approaching wedding made her heart beat faster in her chest. Even though she knew their marriage wouldn’t be a real one, she couldn’t stop the thrill that raced through her at the thought of calling Ronan her husband. And his vow that neither of them would have other lovers.Considering she’d foolishly gone and fallen in love with the man, Dominique counted her blessings in that.
“You’re wearing more than that, Dominique!” he spat from behind her when she pulled the bra and thong from the drawer.
Dominique looked over her shoulder at him, surprised that he called her by name. She’d grown so accustomed to the way he drawledPrincess,that the sound of her name from his lips took her by surprise. “This is what I’m going to wear under the wedding gown. I have put them on so the dress will drape correctly for the fitting.”
His jaw ticked as he stared at her. The black T-shirt was clenched in his hand, forgotten. His shoulder and chest muscles were tight, as though he were holding himself back.
“No other man should be looking at you nearly naked,” he stated. “Not unless you want me to gouge out his eyes.”
“What?” She couldn’t believe her ears. He sounded…jealous.
Ronan stalked toward her, closing the short distance between them quickly. Dominique took a step back when his bare abdomen pressed against hers. He kept moving, backing her against the drawers behind her. Leaning forward, he put one hand on each side of her hips, caging her between his arms.
“Your body belongs to me,” he said. “No one else should be looking at what’s mine.”
He sounded like a caveman, something that should incite her anger rather than make her pulse pound or her skin feel tight.
“No, Ronan. My body belongs tome. I share it with you because I want to.”
