Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 79211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
And if I’m honest? I want to distract him from the inevitable next step we take alone as a married couple.
“Try again,” he says, turning to face me. He finishes the beer and tosses the bottle to the table. I jump at the clang of glass and expect it to shatter, but it only rolls away.
“Maybe it’s your magnetic appeal and charisma,” I say, taking another generous sip of wine. My thoughts get a little muddled and the view in front of me blurs a little, like the room’s been etched in oil pastels. “Your genteel nature and lighthearted sense of humor?”
“Getting there,” he says, and I swear his eyes on me feel like he’s mentally undressing me. “Khristos, Princess. You’re fucking gorgeous. How much wine have you had?”
I finish my glass and eye the bottle. “Not enough,” I whisper, my words slurred. I reach for the bottle.
“No, Harper.”
A chill skates down my back at the utter command in his tone. I pause, my hand on the bottle, and lift my eyes to his. “What?”
“No more wine.” Warmth spreads through me from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. “I want you to remember tonight in vivid detail.”
Oh, God.
I stand on shaky feet and take a few steps to the vacant, makeshift bar that flanks a wall, abandoned bottles still lined up like soldiers. I reach across and grab a little shot of whiskey. I don’t ever drink that much. I don’t even know how to. But I do know two things: I don’t want to remember this night, and I don’t want him to think he can boss me around.
I twist the top off a shot of something amber and don’t even read the label. I tip my head back and down it in one gulp, sputtering when I come up for air.
I squeal when the full length of his warm body presses me against the white table. How did he get there? I wasn’t even aware of him moving.
“Disobeying me already? We’ve barely taken vows.”
“I’m not. You told me no more wine.” I hold up the empty shot. “This isn’t wine.”
“So that’s how we’re going to play it,” he says in a lazy drawl as he arranges my hands flat across the top of the table.
“Play what?” My voice sounds too high, too loud.
“The way you earn your first spanking.”
My cheeks instantly color and my vision momentarily becomes clearer. “Aleks!”
His palm slams across my ass, but I hardly feel it. I’m surrounded by layers and layers of fabric. I can’t help it — I’m so tipsy and so wound up I snort.
“Are you mocking me, Princess?”
I am so mocking him, but I shake my head.
“Me? Never. Aleks!”
In one swift motion, I’m up in the air and over his shoulder, my legs scissoring and hands flailing in front of me.
“These layers of clothes need to go.”
I’m shaking and want to fight but have no choice.
I don’t care how he was this morning. I don’t care how my body responded. I don’t care that it’s our duty, that I have to bear his children, that we’re married now, and the expectations placed on us are as clear as road signs.
I’m scared.
By the time we get to our bedroom and he stands me in front of him, my cheeks are damp with tears. I taste the salt and will myself to stop, but I can’t. I swipe at them angrily. I feel like such a coward.
I barely register the size of the bed or vases of flowers, the muted neutral colors and simple design of the room, the scent of jasmine and rose and the pile of wrapped gifts and cards on a small table. It’s our wedding night, and the only thing that matters to me at this point is what we have to do next.
He unhurriedly undoes the pearl buttons at the back of my neck and kisses the bare skin revealed when each one falls open.
“Why are you crying?” he asks as he slips another button loose and kisses me again. “You’re crying, Harper.”
I shake my head. “I’m—I’m not,” I stutter, but it’s no use. I totally am.
When a few more buttons come undone, he slides a sleeve off my shoulder so one full side of me is bared to him.
“You are, and I want to know why. Do you think I’ll hurt you?”
He continues the deliberate disrobing until I’m wearing nothing but my white satin wedding bra and matching thong. He lays me back on the bed and sits on the edge beside me.
“N-no,” I say, my voice tremulous. “But I don’t know for sure. I don’t know who you are, and I don’t know what you’re capable of.”
I tuck myself into the pile of pillows at the head of the bed and watch him. Earlier tonight, when he realized that there was an attempt at poisoning me, the look on his face terrified me. Now, though… now there’s a different sort of look that makes me more curious than anything.