The Wild Heir(68)

My hands fall away from my tie, and I have to remember to breathe.

It’s just a simple dress, royal blue and sleeveless with a scoop neck.

But the dress is fitted, showing her every curve, and her golden hair is down around her shoulders in cascading waves. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so shapely, ever seen her hair so wild and free, begging me to wrap the strands around my hand.

I slowly turn around and she shyly walks toward me, stopping in the middle of the room and sticking her hips out to one side, arms raised, as if to say “ta-da.”

“I’m speechless,” I finally say, licking my lips.

She smiles warmly. “I can see that. Maybe I should dress up more often. Though I do have my dress fitting tomorrow and we do have our engagement photos in a couple of days. Honestly, I don’t know why since we’re getting married so soon after.”

“The pictures are my mother’s idea, you know that,” I tell her. “But it makes her happy.”

She nods and we stare at each other, long beats stretching out between us.

Even though it’s been five days since we signed the contracts and two days since the news broke publicly that we are engaged, and we’ve been together almost every step of the way, there are a lot of little moments just like this one. Moments of slight awkwardness, of sexual tension. This whole thing is so strange and new, and fuck, scary, but underneath it all is the fact that I want her like I’ve never wanted any woman before.

And I know she wants me.

But that kiss we shared at the cabin was the last time—the only time—we were physically intimate in any way. And even though I want to be as respectful of her wishes as possible, I am a hungry, greedy man who would like nothing more than to relieve her of that dress, throw her on the bed, and make her scream my name until the whole house shakes.

“There’s a problem,” I tell her gravely.

She sucks in a breath. I slowly bring my gaze up the length of her body and focus on her fearful brown eyes.

“What?” she asks.

“You look extremely fuckable.”

Those eyes widen, stunned. “That’s a problem?” she asks after a beat.

I grin and walk over to her. “Yeah, it’s a problem.” I stop right in front of her and reach for her hair, letting the smooth strands run through my fingers before brushing it over her shoulder. “You see, according to the story we’ve been telling everyone, we’ve been on-again, off-again lovers for a long time. Years. And I finally broke down and admitted my love for you. Swept you off your feet in an extravagant proposal that involved trained peacocks, a flock of doves, and a monkey. And in order for that to be believable to everyone, especially the people at home watching our interview, we have to act like we’ve been passionate lovers for years and are finally celebrating our overdue love by getting married. You get what I’m saying?”

She does. I can tell from the way she’s breathing heavier, the way her pupils are dilating as she stares at my lips, the way she swallows, her throat so pale and delicate I’m suddenly envious of vampires.

I let my hand drift down over the smooth slope of her shoulder, down her arm, to her hand. “The more I touch you, the more you touch me, the more believable this is going to be. If we go out there as we are, where you try to run every time I come near you, it’s not going to work.”

“I’m not running now,” she whispers and meets my eyes. “Try me.”

My lips curl into a smile. “I will. Maybe it’s best, though, if you try me first.” I take a step back. “Go ahead. Touch me.”

She lets out an incredulous huff of air. “I can’t touch you on demand.”

“Sure you can. I give you permission.”

She shakes her head. “This doesn’t seem right.”

“Princess, nothing seems right at this point.” I walk around her over to the door and close it.

Lock it.

“What are you doing?” she asks warily. “Magnus, I thought you agreed—”

“Would you just relax,” I tell her, turning around. “I’m not making you do anything.”

But as I walk toward her, I’m removing my tie and throwing it on the bed. I’m removing my suit jacket and tossing it on the ottoman.

“Magnus,” she warns.

I smile and start unbuttoning my shirt. It’s wildly presumptuous of me but I’ve seen the way she stares at my body when I’m parading it around in front of her. I know the thoughts she’s had. I know that she’s ashamed that she’s had them.

I also know that she’s somewhat inexperienced, that I intimidate her, that my sexual history scares her a bit.

It’s better if I’m the vulnerable one here.

“This is the body you’re going to be sleeping next to after we’re married,” I tell her, my shirt dropping to the floor.

“Actually, that was never in the contract,” she points out as I start unbuckling my pants next. “You know I want separate bedrooms.”

I’m going to pretend the fact that she’s still sticking to that doesn’t hurt.

“Then this is the body you’re supposed to have been sleeping with for years,” I amend as my pants drop to my ankles, leaving me in just my gray boxer briefs. “You better get a damn good look at it. Please. It will be such a waste otherwise. Years and years of marriage ahead of us and no one to admire my hard work.”