With effort, she dragged her eyes away and glared. “You wish.”
I sure fucking did.Twenty-FiveVeraRolling over in the clouds of blankets and pillows, I squinted at the long rays of the sun reaching through the window across the cream carpet to wake me up. I stretched after a sleep just as luxurious at this bed until a glint from my left hand reminded me of the day before.
I married Nicholas Rush.
I was no longer Verana Mariano, but Verana Rush—Mrs. Rush.
Turning softly, I rolled to my side, facing Nico. His bronze skin stood stark against the white sheets that barely clung to his naked hips. I studied each dip and groove of his body. I’d seen him without his shirt a few times, but never had I allowed myself the luxury of memorizing each ridge and valley. One arm stretched behind his head, and the other rested on his stomach—his own wedding band impossible to miss.
Just like it had been hard to miss last night when he’d jacked off in front of me.
Heat spread through my body all over again like a fire to tinder. I closed my eyes, and like a movie on fast forward, images of him flashed behind my lids. The veins along his arms straining with the effort to stroke his thick length as he reached for his peak. His firm chest rising and falling with his panting breaths. His flushed cheeks and sweat-dampened hair. His full lips slicked by his tongue, teasing with the filthiest words. His broad head leaking pearly liquid until his palm came up to swipe it away. His heavy balls cradled in his hand, his brand-new wedding band shining—a bright reminder that this was my husband. That if I wanted him, he would, could be mine.
I almost gave in. I almost said fuck it and demanded he fuck me. Every second of watching him was like an hour in the most intense game imaginable. My body hot, tense, aching.
I knew I should have run. I should have shoved him away and slept in one of the other rooms.
But the way he looked at me as I laid back in my white, lacy wedding lingerie, filled me with an intense power. His heavy-lidded eyes took me in like he’d never seen anything like me. The way he’d stared in awe and couldn’t look away had me glued to the bed. Here stood a man who respected me enough to listen to my words—even though part of me wanted him to push, so I could give in and blame him in the morning—but still wanted me any way he could have me.
Power.
It had flooded my veins and held me in place. It was amazing what feeling like you’re being heard—being seen—can do to you. As soon as he’d gone to shower, my hand flew between my legs, and I’d clamped my bottom lip under my teeth to hold back my moans as I came within seconds.
I’d wanted to give in.
But I didn’t. I wouldn’t be someone’s booty call for five years.
I wouldn’t be ordered to be a body purely for pleasure just because I was his wife.
I hadn’t escaped Camden just to do it with Nico.
Camden’s promise of having me whenever and however he’d wanted me haunted me more than I thought. I’d shoved it aside, focused on my plans with Nico, unaware that it lingered, touching every decision I made. Like a scar, it wasn’t very visible, but always there.
I’d almost forgotten it after the magical day and night, but when he’d started undoing the buttons on my dress and tossed me on the bed, I was sure he would take, especially when I just sat there panting with need.
But he hadn’t. He’d been arrogant and demanding but still respectful.
I focused back on the man in front of me, his chest a dusting of dark hair rising and falling over his deep, even breathing. His face calm in sleep without his usual look of annoyance or placidity.
We left for our two-week honeymoon today, and I couldn’t help but wonder if every night would be like last night.
Would I be able to be as strong as last night with my body on fire? How long could I burn when he offered to put out the fire? Was I strong enough?
I had to be. I would be.
At the very least, I wanted a friendship—a partner like my mother had described. Even if it never turned to love, five years was a long time to be with someone you disliked. I couldn’t sleep with someone who saw me as an inferior woman, there to service their needs, and Nico had made his thoughts clear about how he saw me with each menial task he gave me at work. Part of the reason I’d gone through with this was because I could still work—I could prove how valuable I was.