Page 82 of The Wrong Husband

I place my big hand on her head and apply gentle pressure. Instantly, she folds to the ground on her knees.

She looks up at me from under her eyelashes. Pupils blown. Color high. The moment between us sizzles, sparks, like a fuse lit from my eyes to hers, burning up the distance between us.

She licks her lips, lowers her chin, and fuck—the blood drains to my groin.

"I like bending to you.” She swallows. “Is that…strange?”

“You’re following your instinct. How can that be strange?”

“I want to ask you to use me for your pleasure. To give up my body to you to do with as you please. I want to trust you." A shudder spirals up her body. "Icantrust you, can’t I?"

“I’ll do anything for you.” The band around my chest tightens. I’m so overcome by emotion; a trembling grips me. I squeeze my fingers into fists and try to regain control. “If I had to burn the world down to protect you, I would.”

“Oh.” Her chin trembles.

She locks her fingers together in front of her.

Seeing her submissive stance sends a surge of heat through my veins. My balls tighten. My cock lengthens. The need to be inside of her, to own her, possess her, mark her—so everyone will know who she belongs to—inundates me. I want to fuck her right here, but I resist. Instead, I force myself to unfurl my fingers. Then slide my hand into my pocket and deliberately keep my stance casual.

"And you, Fever, canItrustyou?"

I know I can, but I want to hear it from her.

She nods. "Of course." Eyes clear, gaze steady, voice firm. She means it. Confusion boils in my throat. Her body language tells me I can trust her. The softness in her eyes shows she wants me. The compliant angles of her body scream that she’s ready to be bent into any shape I want, that she’ll give me anything I want, do as I command.She won’t betray me.I’m confident of that. So, what the hell was going on earlier?

Unable to stop myself from touching her, I slide my palm around her neck. My fingers meet in the front of her throat. And when I squeeze, her eyes widen. Her pupils dilate. A mixture of fear and lust flares in her eyes.

"Good. You want me right now, don’t you? You’d part your thighs and show me your pink cunt, wet and glistening andready to be fucked by me. You’d have me in any orifice I ask you to bare to me, if I asked, wouldn’t you?"

"Yesss," she hisses. Then seems to get herself together with difficulty. Her breath comes in little gasps that light a thousand tiny fires in my bloodstream.

"Can I?"

"Can I?" I arch an eyebrow.

She frowns. "Can I… Sir?"

I allow myself a small smile.

"Please. Sir?" she asks with more confidence.

"Have you earned it, though?" I angle my head. "I don’t think so."

Disappointment flickers across her face.

I help her to her feet, but I don’t release her right away. My hand stays wrapped around her wrist, anchoring her.

“Soon, Fever.” I allow myself a small smile at the frustration etched into her features. “Soon, you’ll know what it feels like to take your husband’s cock inside that sweet, aching pussy. But first—” I lean in, breathing her in. “I want to give you the wedding dress you dreamed of. The one you couldn’t stop staring at. The one you thought no one saw you fall in love with.”

I finally let her go and stride to the rack of gowns. My fingers close around the one she paused at, her gaze lingering on it through the display window, when I followed her that morning. Before she even knew my name.

I turn and hold it up.

Her breath catches. Her pupils dilate.

“How did you—” Her gaze flicks from the dress to my face. Realization dawns. “You saw me… When I looked at it in the display, didn’t you?”

I nod once. “I did more than see you. I watched you fall in love with this dress. You didn’t even touch it, but it was written all over your face.”