Page 31 of The Pakhan's Forced Bride

I grin. “Just being authentic.”

His eyes flare.

Lydia has given up talking to either of us; her face is an expression of disgust as she watches us being affectionate with each other.

Ardalion reaches up and wraps his hand around my jaw, sending a thrilling pulse through me.

“You’re playing with fire, little bunny,” he growls, sounding angry.

Maybe I pushed it too far.

I smile nervously and stand quietly at his side again, removing my hand from his back pocket.

Lydia is talking to other people, and now I just feel silly about the whole thing. I got carried away, that’s all.

Ardalion is shifting next to me, fidgety, annoyed.

He takes my hand, his grip firm as he pulls me. “Come with me,” he demands. “We need to talk in private.”

He pulls me through the crowd to the edge of the room, then down a passage lit with a single red light.

I’m miserable, prepared for a heavy lecture on my actions and how I probably embarrassed him in front of his ex-fling and colleagues.

He grabs my hips and pushes me hard against the wall.

“Wha—” I stammer, as the air is pushed from my lungs. “You don’t need to be so—"

“This is your fault, Belle. You want to tease me with your hands all over me—don’t expect me to control myself.” He grabs my jaw again, and before I have a chance to fully understand, his lips lock over mine.

The world disappears.

It’s just him and me, standing beneath erotic red lights, his body pinning me to a wall, and his hands moving up my hips as his lips force mine open so that he can push his tongue inside my mouth.

My heart is racing. Every inch of me is on fire, feverish with desire.

I wrap my hands around his thick, solid neck and pull myself up towards him, wanting more.

He groans as he rocks his hips forwards, rubbing his massive, rock-hard cock against my stomach.

I gasp against his lips.

He wasn’t angry.

He was turned on by my touch.

Turned on to the point where he had to drag me from the party and release that growing desire.

He threads his hand along the back of my head, through my hair, holding me closer and kissing me deeper. One hand slips beneath the line of my dress, then moves up again, pulling the dress higher as his touch grazes my thigh and over my hip.

I groan in desperation, lifting my leg against his as he slips his hand around my thigh.

Never in my life have I felt this intensity.

This much need.

I am not in control of myself, and if he wanted to take me, right now, in this open hallway, I wouldn’t stop him.

I tilt my head back as his lips graze over my neck, leaving a heated trail in their wake.