Page 10

“Snooze.” I whisper and match my one-word reply with a gentle roll toward my belly away from him at my back, as if it’s no big deal that he’s in bed with me. I force my breathing to even out, to not show my alarm at waking to find a stranger in bed.

It’s an act, and I’m not good at it.

At all.

When I think I’ve gotten away, I make to slide out of bed, planning to run somewhere—anywhere—and lock myself in a room where I can be safe.

“Oh, no you don’t.” A wide hand pulls on my belly as he slips backward, positioning me flat on my back as he rests on his side, looking down at me. He’s not looming but he may as well be. “Stop holding your breath. You’ll make your anxiety worse.”

My eyes fly to his dark ones. In the darkened bedroom, there might as well be no irises at all. His pupils are dilated, and they pin me to the spot. I close mine, fighting the rising fear, and breathe deeply.

“Was it good?”

My eyes fly open. But I can’t deny anything in the way I’m so desperate to with my body surely giving away all my tells. “What?” I feign innocence.

The pinky of his hand pressed at my belly wiggles. It’s closest to my panty line. Close as in way too close, and it moves just enough t-shirt aside that it brushes delicate skin. Its heat sears me and rekindles a flame that doesn’t need to be stoked.

I gasp and immediately wish I could suck the sound back into my mouth.

“Princess.” The heat in his eyes is unmistakable. “I know your body. I know how you coil before you orgasm. I know how you sound when you come. So, tell me… was it good?”

If the fear with him this close wasn’t enough, the mortification certainly is. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You sure about that?”

I nod, calling his bluff.

“So you didn’t push your perfect ass into my cock and mewl and moan before going rigid in my arms? You didn’t gasp and hum and become boneless melting into me just a moment after?”

“Nope.”

The smile that plays at his lips is maddening.

“Were you on top? Were you riding my cock?”

“Who says it was you at all?”

All playfulness is gone, and the anger that flashes over him makes him look as immovable as stone.

The hand at my belly sears through me as his hand splays wider, practically stretching from ribs to hip bone.

His voice drops to icy levels as he hisses, “Don’t.

” He leans in, almost menacing in his posture.

“There will be no man in this bed but me, Ayla. No man. No woman either. No man is inside you but me, Princess. I took vows. You took vows. And I damn well expect you to honor and keep them.”

He rolls off the bed and stalks, fully naked, to the bathroom, before turning back and absolutely leveling me with his anger. “I don’t give a fuck if you can remember them or not.”

The bathroom light switches on, and I glimpse a flash of his sculpted body, rigid with anger, until the door slams in my face.

He doesn’t get to play the victim in this scenario.

He doesn’t get to wipe away or deny my condition.

He doesn’t get to dictate what I reveal or when I share it.

He doesn’t get to decide he’s mad about a dream.

Fuck that.

I toss back the covers. My tee isn’t appropriate for anyone but me, and my panties are drenched. And I can’t bring myself to care about either.

I throw the door wide, march into the bathroom, and stop dead.

Christian is in the shower. Steam billows and fogs the glass wall. One hand on the stone tile, head bowed, he fists his cock, pulling in merciless, rough jerks. I should look away. I should run away, but I don’t.

I can’t.

He looks up and holds my eyes. The anger in them is unmistakable. His eyes never stray as he chokes his dick with angry strokes. His abs are tight and defined, bunching and making grooves that water runs down until it meets that deep vee.

By the time my eyes have traveled his gorgeous, muscled body and hit his face again, my anger is gone. Well, not gone, but definitely back-burnered to other things… namely, appreciation and lust.

The sound of water and our mingled breaths fill the room until his abs contract and he spills himself over his hand, and his taut body relaxes. Water sluices over his head and down his back, around his shoulders and along his body.

His face is no longer angry, but it’s still equally as tortured. “Ayla.” My name on his lips is a whispered prayer.

I move closer to the shower as if drawn by some magnetic force, my feet going where my brain does not send them.

When I get close enough to touch him, he fists my tee and drops his mouth to mine in a kiss so raw, so passionate, my toes curl into the fuzzy bathmat below me.

Oh God, can he kiss. It’s consuming, deep, as if he’s branding me or taking from a well that’s just his. The groan that slides from me spurs him on and he tangles one hand deep in my hair twisting to position exactly where he wants me.

This is the best kiss I’ve ever had, the most all-consuming, most owning, most powerful. It’s everything. I can’t imagine?—

Wait.

I snap my eyes open and pull back as much as I can. He feels my retreat and closes his eyes—those molten chocolate eyes full of desire and hunger—and lets black eyelashes rest against his cheeks.

“Ayla—” His voice is rough, but it doesn’t matter.

I don’t want to hurt him, but this is too much.

“I can’t…” I try to show him how sorry I am, but instead, he releases me, and returns to the shower, his hands clenched in fists, and gives me his back.

I take the hint and see myself out, only to climb back under the covers.

My lips are warm and swollen. My tee has a wet handprint from his fist. And my panties are worse off than they were when I orgasmed in my sleep.

I told Halley I was struggling. Struggling doesn’t cover half of it. I roll away from the door but think better of it since I’m facing his side, so I face the door again, hoping I don’t look too eager.

I fall into a deep dreamless sleep and never hear Christian leave the shower or the bathroom. I don’t know if he comes back to bed.

But when I wake, it’s alone.

Very alone.

As in the house is empty.

A note from Corinne indicates fresh croissants are in the cooled oven and butter and cream in the fridge. I guess she assumes I know how to use the coffee contraption that cost more than my first car.