Good….
Angry Amanda was something I could play with. I wanted to break her like a filly. Tamed and penitent was the goal. There was no joy punishing her if she caved, wallowed, and fell into a ball of depression.
“Tick-tock, ragazza mia,” I mocked. “Get changed…or don’t. But I expect you back down here.”
“Fine,” she bit out.
Leaning down, I breathed in her scent. Exotic. Floral.Her.She stilled, breath hitching.
Mine.
A fire raced through my veins. I wanted her. Wanted her in every primal way. Not just her body, but her mind.
Her soul.
I released her with a gentle push, and she stumbled away, bounding up the stairs as if she could escape this.
Too cute.
My dick throbbed in response.
But if we didn’t do anything tonight, that was fine. This was about what she needed. I saved her from a terrible fate. She was no longer a pawn for her father. I would protect her.
And I’ll destroy him.
No, she needed space to rest. To heal. If a good orgasm triggered a cathartic release, I would serve her as many as she needed. But if tonight was only a hot, fresh meal and bed, then so be it. I could wait for my wedding night.
I would wait an eternity for this woman.
In the kitchen, I cranked the gas flames hot. My list of supplies was already here, the host for the cottage providing everything I required, gladly for the extra price. Butter crackled in the cast iron skillet, and the steaks, which had been left on the counter, were the perfect room temperature. Two baking potatoes finishing in the microwave and long green beans sauteing in a back skillet, everything was nearly ready when Amanda came back down.
She was in a fitted, professional dress.
My fingers gripped the knife I was sharpening to cut the resting steaks. Where were her pretty things? I knew from snooping in her closet that her wardrobe was professional, with a few sexy outfits she wore out to the clubs. But the floral skirts? The vibrant colors? Surely, she had purchased something that was trulyherfor the honeymoon! Did she not think I was worthy of the laidback, flirty outfits? She used to love colors and feminine styles.
Was this another layer of mockery jabbing directly at me? But a quick reminder that she was mine, and that it didn’t matter, relaxed the tightness around my lungs.
“I’m not hungry,” she stated.
I pointed the knife at her. “Sit your pretty little ass in that chair.”
Her eyes widened, but she took her time obeying. “Is there any wine?”
“Not tonight.” Wine was a pleasure she had to earn. “If you clean your plate, we’ll crack open a bottle.”
“Tyrant,” she muttered.
Oh, Mandy, you have no idea.
The first steak was a perfect medium rare, whereas mine was bloody and crimson red. I set the plated feast in front of her and took my seat.
“Tell me why?” Her tone was icy. Those blue eyes were slits of bone-chilling energy.
“Why what?” I stabbed a bite of food.
Her lips thinned. “Why would you marry me? And why now?”
So furious, I should have anticipated her frigid reception after the way she’d dismissed me two Christmases ago when I’d come back from prison.
