He hesitated. It would be appropriate to kiss her, wouldn’t it? It would almost be weird not to kiss her.
But he feared taking even one taste of what was forbidden. Undecided, he leaned forward, torturing himself as he breathed in the scent of her hair, like summer peaches. He wanted to wrap his hands in her hair, lower his mouth to hers and plunder those pink lips, and see if they were as soft and sweet as they looked…
He couldn’t seduce her. Couldn’t.
Kasimir turned his head, giving her a brief, chaste peck on the cheek, before he drew away.
She blinked, then reached for her bouquet, giving Kasimir a small smile, as if she were tremendously relieved he hadn’t given her a proper kiss. As
if she hadn’t been waiting breathlessly for one.
Neither of them were glad he hadn’t properly kissed her. Even the officiant looked bewildered as he cleared his throat. “Sign here,” he told Kasimir’s attorney, who was their witness. They posed for photographs, to make their wedding look real, and they were done.
“Get busy,” Kasimir told his attorney, handing him the marriage license and the camera. “I expect the land in Alaska to be in my name before the end of January.”
Today was December twenty-seventh. The man looked flummoxed beneath his wire-rimmed glasses. “But sir… the legal formalities of getting the trust to transfer the land to Miss Dalton, and then having her sell it to you are complicated. It could easily take three or four months….”
“You have four weeks,” he cut the man off. Plenty of time to blackmail Bree Dalton into handing over his brother’s company. And too much time of having Josie—now his wife—enticing him with her body and the latent passion in her deep brown eyes. The first man to take her might be consumed by it.
But it wouldn’t be him. Kasimir set his jaw. He wouldn’t touch her.
At all.
Even if it killed him.
“Kasimir?” Josie’s brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?”
She saw too much. “Nothing,” he said shortly.
“Do you…” She paused, biting her lip. “You don’t already regret marrying me… do you?”
“No,” he said shortly. “I just don’t want to make this marriage any harder for you than it has to be.”
She glanced down at her Chanel gown, her beautiful bouquet, her enormous diamond ring. Her pink lips curved. “Well,” she said teasingly, “this has been pretty tough to take.”
“And I saved the best for last. Your cake.”
“You didn’t!” she cried happily. “What kind?”
“Three layers, with buttercream roses. You were sleeping, so I couldn’t ask your favorite flavor. So each layer is different—white, yellow and devil’s food.”
Her eyes looked luminous. “You are so kind,” she whispered.
He frowned at her.
“Don’t you dare cry,” he ordered.
“Don’t be silly,” she said, wiping her eyes. “Of course I’m not crying.”
Kasimir cursed aloud. “How can the small kindness of cake make you weep?”
“You listened to me,” she said, giving him a watery smile. “I’m not used to anyone actually listening to me. Even Bree just talks at me, telling me what I should want.”
“No more. Remember, now you’re a princess.” He gave her a sudden cheeky grin. “Princess Josephine Xendzov.” Reaching down, he stroked her cheek as he looked into her eyes. “Princess Josie, you’re perfect.”
“Princess.” She gulped, then shook her head with a laugh. “If only the girls who teased me in high school could see me now!”
Setting his jaw, he looked down at her. “If any girls who teased you were here right now, I’d make them regret they were born.”