The air sticks in my lungs when he places his hand on my chest, causing goose bumps to break on my skin. My heart rate speeds up, beating so wildly I feel the drums in my ears along with the trepidation sinking into my veins. “Why?” The question halts the internal chaos brewing in me, and my brow furrows. He must read the confusion as he elaborates, all the while his hand travels upward until he cups my neck, his thumb brushing over my pulse point, and a sigh slips past my lips at his firm yet gentle grip. “Why do you have to go?”
I barely resist the urge to close my eyes at his husky, deep voice. It’s akin to the tight yet silky rope wrapping slowly around me and making me addicted to his presence, tempting me to succumb to the desires crushing into me. His presence alone paints carnal images in my head that shake me and demand an outlet, the curious and starved part of me wanting to discover the wicked things this world has to offer.
I wish I had more experience with men over the years because I shouldn’t be this attracted to a stranger who’s been mostly mean to me the entire day. Maybe that’s the physical attraction everyone speaks about, where you can want someone, knowing full well they are toxic for you.
“It’s late,” I reply, once again making a move to free myself from his embrace, but instead, he maneuvers us backward until my ass hits the edge of the table. A blast of wind comes from the terrace, the fresh air doing absolutely nothing to calm the fire slowly spreading in me, and the internal panic that serves as ashield to my emotions yells at me to get the hell out of here, and fast. “Besides, we’re strangers. I’m sure you have better things to do than spend your free time with me.”
He steps forward, and his pelvis connects with mine, trapping me between the table rattling under the force and his muscled chest. His hands fall on either side of me, caging me in, and the action should increase my panic as it leaves me no route to escape. Instead, I hate how my body instantly misses his touch yet is thrilled at his proximity, everything female in me reacting to his presence and the hard-on brushing against my most intimate part.
“It’s my wedding night.” I freeze at his roughly spoken words as they cause a tremor rushing through my entire system. His masculine scent mixed with whiskey confuses my senses, making me stay glued to the spot while our eyes meet. “Why wouldn’t I want to spend it with my bride?”
I have no idea what I’m supposed to say, and my heartbeat speeds up further. If it beats any faster, it will just jump out of my chest, and wouldn’t that be embarrassing? Although at this point my heart is a traitor, trying to convince my body to indulge in the forbidden and to shut up the last bit of sense I have.
Licking my dry lips, I reply as my hold on his shirt tightens because it gives me at least some illusion of distance between us. “Our marriage is a business arrangement.”
A business arrangement forced on me by my family and a man who thinks he rules this world and has little regard for anyone else but himself.
And despite all that, I feel a pull toward him that’s unexplainable and dangerous all at once.
His eyes darken, his body tensing under my palm, and the energy around us changes swiftly, charging with unfamiliar anticipation and fury that shadows us like a dome, dumping us into an abyss where the devilish vices reign and urge you toindulge in all kinds of sins as long as it ensures the pleasure you’ve never known existed.
The earlier need to flee magnifies inside me. Only this time, I know it’s useless, as Orion wouldn’t let me go far and will catch me no matter what.
A hunter seeking his prey, just like the hero he’s named after, except his mortal namesake’s rule here is absolute, and I’m nothing like Artemis.
And while this thought should scare me, it thrills the dormant parts of me, and this realization has the power to break the careful facade I’ve created over the years to protect my sanity.
He covers my left hand, his fingers trailing over the ring, and his wicked chuckle awakens every hair on my body when he leans forward and puts his lips against my pulse point, a surprised gasp escaping my throat at the contact. “As long as you wear my ring, Diana, you’re my wife.” The sensual words shouldn’t fuel the fire slowly spreading in my veins and burning everything in its wake. Common sense is muted, making it harder to remember why I should resist his charms. “Never lie to me, darling.” His lips travel to my shoulder, scraping gently, and I jerk when he removes the strap of my dress with his teeth, exposing me to his view. The action might be innocent, but it takes us into territory we should avoid.
Because there will be no going back once we cross that line.
And I’m not strong enough to face the catastrophic consequences.
“I never lied to you.” I should tell him to stop because he’s acting as if this marriage is real, when it’s not.
Maybe this cursed cold castle is under some kind of spell. What else explains the reason behind this mesmerizing encounter that makes us gravitate toward each other eventhough he promised me that our living together would mean nothing?
Or am I just a coward who can’t admit I’ve become attracted to my husband from my first glance?
“We shouldn’t do this,” I find the strength to say, and he chuckles again. His lips skim back and end at my collarbone, the touch shooting tingling arrows straight to my center. I resist the need to arch my back and give him more access to my flesh. “It’s wrong.” The line is already blurred, and if we don’t stop now, I think we never will.
Would that be such a bad thing to do? According to the law, we already belong to each other.
I shake my head, refusing to allow the little voice to distract and confuse me. Fantasies, dreams, illusions…they are for those who know what happiness is. All I’ve known in my life is sorrow, and if sorrow teaches you anything? It’s that you rarely, if ever, get what you want and have to be grateful for what you’ve got. “Our marriage is not real,” I finally breathe out, trying to pull strength from this statement and find the resolve to break it off.
Why am I still standing still, then?
If possible, even more tension pollutes the air. I could probably cut it with a knife, but I hold back the moan when he bites my neck, the sting adding gasoline to the blaze within me that craves only one thing.
Him.
“If it’s wrong…do you want me to stop?” My eyes close, and I swallow at his question as it sparks my internal protests.
Physical affection is a privilege no one wished to grant me in my family, and tasting just a bit of it now makes me yearn for it. What is it like to have someone touch you with reverence, need, and…affection?
What is it like when someone’s nearness injects protectiveness in every cell in your body, as if warning everyoneaway from ever hurting you because you have that person behind you, always ready to punish whoever hurt you?
Orion promised me no such thing, but somehow, right now, he’s the only person who inspires such emotion in me and makes the curious and starved part of me crave the unknown, common sense be damned.
