Page 51 of Scandalous Kingpin

A lifted shoulder was my answer.

“Okay, I’ll take that as a yes.” I stood up from the table and Christian leveled me with a withering gaze. “If that is not a yes, Christian, I’d suggest you speak now or forever hold your peace.”

“Yes, I’m okay with that.”This man is going to give me whiplash.

I shook my head and readied myself to storm away when he grabbed my arm and pulled me onto his lap.

I shivered, feeling his hard-on press against my ass, and watched as his eyes darkened—whether from fury or arousal, I couldn’t distinguish anymore.

“Thank you for making me breakfast.”

The darkness whose presence I always sensed radiated off him, flexing around us and mixing with something else. Something I couldn’t pinpoint.

“You’re welcome.” I drew in a breath, stood once more, then left him sitting alone in the kitchen.

I scurried up the stairs of the private jet, my heart stumbling with every step. Our honeymoon. I was working up the courage to tell Christian the extent of our plans. We’d go to Rome and find the man who hurt Christian, and then we’d hunt the woman who killed my father.

Everything seemed surreal. So much had changed overnight and there was no going back. I’d promised him forever, and I intended to keep my vow. I knew he’d do the same.

Christian was already seated in the reclining black leather chair on the left side of the plane.

I plopped into the one closest to him before fumbling with my seat belt. The cabin crew did their checks and offered us champagne, oblivious to my swirling anxiety. I stole glances at my new husband all day as we moved around each other preparing for the last-minute trip, but things were still rocky.

The tension in the cabin as it took to the sky was hard to ignore. Now that we were days, maybe evenhours, away from confronting the monster who’d hurt him, Christian’s haunting past and everything I’d learned had begun to pull emotions I didn’t know existed out of me. I was constantly on the verge of breaking down and sobbing.

For him. For me. For us.

Tears formed in my eyes, and deep down, I knew.

I’d fallen in love with my damaged villain.

“Don’t tell me you’re regretting your decision already?” Christian’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts and I met his blue gaze.

“Of course not,” I muttered. “We’re both getting something out of this arrangement.”

He nodded and stared out the window, but the moment we were in the air, he rasped, “I want to fuck you again,” so quietly I wasn’t sure whether the words were meant to reach me.

I felt each one between my legs, and before I could even come up with a reply, my husband was on his feet, unlatching my seat belt and pulling me into his arms.

“What are you doing?”

“I want a redo,” he announced, carrying me toward the back of the plane. The moment we entered the bedroom, the lock clicked into place and he dropped me onto the bed.

Bolts of electricity scattered up my arm when he stooped down to remove my sneakers, dumping them unceremoniously next to the bed.

“Do you want this?” he asked as he toed off his polished dress shoes.

My thighs trembled with desire and my nipples tightened. “Yes.”

My pulse rang in my ears when he undid his cufflinks and shrugged off his jacket. He loosened the knot on his tie, his eyes never leaving me as he undid his belt, stripping down to nothing.

I watched him, my eyes at half-mast and my skin buzzing with anticipation. My husband might be damaged, but his body was a work of art.

I lifted a leg, resting my foot on his bare stomach, and he kissed the inner arch of my foot. My body lit up like a Christmas tree. He raked his eyes down languidly before returning them to my face.

My furious pulse dropped from my ears to my clit when he said, “Strip.”

The desire in his eyes gave me all the courage I needed. Christian stared at me like I was his salvation and damnation wrapped in one as I unzipped my dress, the sound echoing seductively through the air.