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It was as if he was plugged in to some part of her she’d never experienced before.

She was sure that she’d had plans before she’d kissed him, but she couldn’t remember any of them. She was too caught up in the play of their mouths and lips and tongues. How deeply he kissed her and how good it felt to be pressed against him, as if this was some kind of homecoming. Some kind of yearning she hadn’t even known she possessed, some longing deep inside her, finally unlocked.

He knew, something in her whispered.

She thought about that knowing look in his intense blue eyes. She thought about the way they’d clung to each other on her bedroom floor. She remembered the way he’d said that thing about his personal relationships.

It set her shivering, deep and long, in a way that made her wonder if it was possible she might actually—

And that was when he set her away from him.

He had to untangle her arms from his neck and he didn’t look completely steady on his feet. And she couldn’t understand what was happening as he set her a good foot or two away from him and then held her there, with his hands on her shoulders to anchor her in place.

“What are you doing?” she asked, baldly.

She could taste him in her mouth. The core of her was hot and soft. And they were married, for God’s sake. Why not start it off with a bang? Literally?

But he shook his head at her. “We’re not going to do this.”

She scowled at him. “Aren’t we? Why not?”

“For a variety of reasons, Your Majesty,” he replied, in that forbiddingly stern tone she knew too well. “But let’s pick one. You and I both know you are well-used to leading your lovers around on a merry dance. And I need you to hear me when I say this. Outside the walls of our bedroom, I will always honor you as my Queen. I will take your directives and do your bidding, without question. It is my honor to serve you in this way.” His hands tightened on her shoulders. His gaze seemed to laser straight through her. “But within the walls of our bedroom, here in our private space, I will give the orders. And you, my lovely wife, will obey them.”

Cesca felt as if he’d slapped her. Except it was the kind of slap that didn’t feel like an assault, but more like…an invitation.

Her entire body seemed to light itself on fire. She was sure she turned the brightest of reds. She could feel the heat of it, staining her everywhere.

“What?” was all she could manage to say.

And the impossible man before her smiled.

“I understand that you think I’m boring, and maybe I am,” he said, but she could see that he was not. And did not think he was. “I’m old-fashioned in a great many ways. But when it comes to sex, Francesca, I have a certain set of preferences. Having watched you for a very long time, I suspect that our preferences will align. If they do not, we will figure out a different arrangement.” He shrugged. “After all, there must be heirs. But this is not something I’m going to spring on you in the heat of the moment. I’ll require your consent. For you to ask me nicely. That’s what makes it hot.”

“Are you…? Are you talking about…?” She couldn’t say it. She could not put together the notion of this man and kinky sexual practices of any kind.

“I am definitely talking about that,” he said, and suddenly, that stern tone of his took on a different flavor.

Cesca felt herself shiver, and that was something she didn’t want to face, so she took a step back. She let his hands fall from her shoulders. “I don’t like that kind of thing.”

She expected him to apologize. Or at least change tactics. Instead, he laughed.

A real laugh. A long laugh. “Are you sure?” He moved toward her, and though he didn’t touch her, she felt the heat of him. She could feel a hectic heat bloom everywhere inside her now. “Do you mean to tell me that if I were to reach between your legs right now, my darling wife, I would find you dry as a desert? Completely uninterested?” He laughed again. And he leaned down and put his face in hers. “Because I suspect that you are wet and ready and the only thing holding you back from telling me so is that you don’t want to admit that you’ve been waiting your entire life for someone to finally take you in hand.”

He let that sit there between them, the room airless—or maybe it was that she was holding her breath.

She could not have said why. But she also couldn’t stop. Or look away from him.

And then he straightened. “I suggest you go next door and get into something comfortable, Francesca,” he told her. “And if I were you, I wouldn’t test me on this. If I have to come over there and take you out of these wedding clothes, you won’t like it.”

Then he left her there, striding from the bedroom and heading to what she assumed was his own set of dressing rooms.

Cesca stood there, frozen into place, not sure that she could make any sense of what had just happened. And she wasn’t sure she would’ve moved at all, but there was something about the warning he’d given her that resonated.

Somehow, she found herself walking to the archway between their bedrooms and into her rooms.

She could hear her staff moving around in the rest of the suite, but she didn’t want to talk to them. Or anyone. She went into the bathroom and pulled the crown from her head, pulling out all the pins that had held it in place and scattering them across the counter top. She set the heavy crown down on the counter and then moved her head from side to side, getting the kinks out of her neck.

The wedding dress was more of a challenge. She’d been sewn into it, but she found that if she wiggled around a little bit and tugged in just the right places, she could open the back enough that she could step out without destroying the garment entirely.