Brave, but untrue, he thought, admiring her spirit even as he recognized the lie. His hand shot out, gripping her chin firmly but not painfully. “Now listen carefully, little one.”
He released her, noting the slight flush that had risen to her cheeks at his touch.
She held his gaze, neither looking away nor backing down. He liked that.
“Our marriage will be one of order and protection,” he said, low and steady. “You will belong to me completely. And you shall follow my guidance without question. If you disobey, you’ll accept correction. Every part of you belongs to me. Your pleasure is mine to provide, when you have earned it.”
Olivia’s breath quickened, her pupils dilating slightly. Her lips parted in surprise, but she said nothing.
Victor moved closer, invading her space. “I think some part of you needs this, wants stability, as well as protection and structure, wants the depravity that I will introduce you to.”
“And if I refuse?” Her breath had quickened beneath his touch.
Victor’s hand slid to the nape of her neck, fingers tangling in her hair, not pulling, merely asserting control. “Do you intend to refuse?” His voice dropped lower. “Make no mistake, Olivia. I can be quite persuasive to get what I want.”
For a moment, conflict warred in her expression, pride battling against a deeper emotion. “I don’t refuse.”
Victor nodded once, pleased by her decision. He’d known she would make the right choice. Sweeping her into his arms as if she weighed nothing, he carried her to the doorway and into the chamber she would share with him each night.
He set her on her feet after he’d kicked the door closed behind them. Before he realized what he was doing, he pinned her against him as his lips crashed down on hers. The small peck they’d shared after speaking their vows hadn’t been enough. As soon as he was able to whisk her away, he had brought her straight back to their home and told her to dress for their wedding night even though it was still light out. What he had planned for her would take hours.
When she parted her lips, he swept his tongue inside her mouth, tasting the champagne they’d had at their wedding breakfast. To his surprise, she matched his intensity, clutchingat the collar of his shirt as she returned his kiss with unexpected fervor.
“Stand before the fire,” he ordered, forcing himself to step back from her before he threw her on the bed and claimed her too quickly. He poured a measure of brandy in his glass and took a seat in a wingback chair facing the flames.
Olivia hesitated only briefly before complying, moving to position herself where he’d instructed. Victor studied her with undisguised appreciation, allowing himself to truly look at the woman who was now his wife.
“Remove your nightdress,” he commanded.
Her eyebrows rose. “What?”
“Do you require me to tell you again?” he asked firmly, hiding his desperation to see what was now his. The body he would pleasure and train.
She stared at him, challenge and uncertainty warring in her eyes. Then, with slow, deliberate movements, she reached for the sides of her night rail. “As you command ... Victor.”
“Your Grace,” he corrected, maintaining his composure despite the surge of desire her compliance sent through him. “We aren’t in conversation. When I am instructing you in such matters, you shall refer to me as ‘Your Grace.’”
Her nostrils flared, but she nodded. “As you command, Your Grace.”
Victor kept his expression impassive, though satisfaction and desire surged through him at her words. She was testing the waters, wading her way through this new dynamic between them.
Olivia pulled the night rail over her head and let it fall to the floor beside her.
His wife stood before him, naked in the firelight, her chin lifted. Magnificent wasn’t a strong enough word to describe her body. It was more vibrant and alive than any painting couldcapture. Victor allowed his gaze to travel over her deliberately, claiming every inch with his eyes. The swell of her breasts, the curve of her hips, the nest of curls between her thighs. She was all his to protect, to guide, to cherish.
“Turn,” he commanded. “Slowly.”
She flattened her lips, but obeyed, rotating with careful grace. Giving him a view of her full, rounded bottom, she completed the circle to face him again.
“Come here,” he instructed, his voice rough with controlled desire.
Olivia approached where he sat, stopping just beyond his reach.
“Closer,” Victor commanded. “Kneel.”
“I don’t kneel for anyone,” she said, a flash of her earlier defiance returning.
Victor leaned forward, his eyes never leaving hers. “You will kneel for me.”
