Page 54 of The Pakhan’s Accidental Bride

I open the door quietly and step inside to find her still asleep. The morning light filters through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the bed. Kiera lies on her side, one hand tucked under her cheek, the other resting on the pillow beside her. Her short red hair looks like spilled wine, the strands catching the light and gleaming copper and gold.

The sheet has slipped down to her waist, revealing the curve of her shoulder and the elegant line of her collarbone. She's wearing a thin tank top, and I can see the swell of her breasts rising and falling with each breath. Her skin looks impossibly soft in this light, smooth and pale with just a hint of freckles across her shoulders.

She looks younger when she sleeps. Vulnerable. The anger and defiance that usually tighten her features are gone, replaced by something peaceful. Almost innocent.

My chest tightens watching her.

I set the boxes and bags down on the chair near the window, then move to the side of the bed. For a moment, I just stand there, looking at her, memorizing the way she looks right now before I wake her and the walls go back up.

"Kiera," I say quietly.

She doesn't stir.

I reach out and brush a strand of hair away from her face. Her skin is warm beneath my fingertips.

"Kiera," I say again, a little louder.

Her eyes flutter open. For a second, she looks confused, disoriented. Then she sees me standing over her and jerks back against the headboard.

"What are you doing in here?" Her voice is rough with sleep, and I find myself liking the sound of it.

"We're going out," I say. "Get dressed. Wear something sharp and nice."

She blinks at me, still half asleep. "What?"

"I brought you clothes." I gesture to the boxes and bags.

Understanding dawns on her face, followed quickly by irritation. "I have clothes."

"Not the kind you'll need as my wife."

She sits up fully now, the sheet pooling around her waist. The tank top is thin enough that I can see the outline of her nipples through the fabric. My cock stirs, remembering how those breasts felt in my hands, how her nipples hardened under my tongue.

"I need to go to work," she says, crossing her arms over her chest. Defensive.

"No."

"Emil, I can't just not show up. I have responsibilities."

"It's too dangerous." I keep my voice level and reasonable. "I've already called your office. You're taking a couple of weeks off."

Her eyes flash with anger. "You did what?"

"I spoke to your supervisor. Explained that you're dealing with a family emergency and need time off. She was very understanding."

"You had no right to do that."

"I had every right. Someone tried to kill you, Kiera. Until I know who and why, you're not going anywhere without protection."

She throws the covers off and stands, facing me with her hands on her hips. The tank top barely reaches the top of her thighs, and I can see the smooth expanse of her legs, the curve of her hips.

"So, what, you're just going to keep me locked in this room for the rest of my life?"

"No. That's why we're going out today." I move toward the door. "Get dressed. We leave in thirty minutes."

"And if I refuse?"

I turn back to look at her. "Then I'll dress you myself. Your choice."