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I’m so fucking happy she's here.
I had thought to protect Abigail from this and keep her away from this dinner. Even before I knew that it was turning into somewhat of a circus, I hadn't thought of asking Abigail to be here. I told her she could stay on the ranch, away from the palace and all the ceremonial duties.
But I'm so fucking glad she's here.
And she came to me.
She missed me. Enough to come to me on her own. After I found out that she'd driven herself here in the truck, without telling anyone where she was going, I was even more pleased. And yes, feeling cocky.
I think my wife kind of likes me.
And I probably shouldn't have fucked her in my office. We could've waited. That wasn't the most professional thing or the most romantic thing I’ve ever done.
But the second I saw her I had to touch her, the second I touched her I had to kiss her, and the second I kissed her I had to do more.
Being away from her is not something I'm good at it seems.
I step through my bedroom door three hours later. "Abigail—" My words are cut off as my wife, my princess, walks into the sitting room.
My hand drops away from where I was loosening my tie, my mouth falls open, and I can't think of anything to say except, "Holy shit." Also not very professional or romantic.
She laughs softly and runs her hands down the front of the long, royal purple sheath dress she’s wearing.
It's strapless, with a train off the back. The bodice has sparkly threads woven throughout, becoming more dispersed as the skirt falls to her feet.
It's simple, not overstated, not anything like what my mother and grandmother will be wearing.
But she's fucking breathtaking.
"Do you like it? It was already here for me," she says.
I nod. "Yes. They would've come up with something for you."
She walks toward me, brows furrowed. "Is it okay?"
"You’re gorgeous. You look very…regal."
She gives me a bright smile. "Really? I’m certain that word has never been applied to me before."
"People haven't been looking close enough."
Her mouth forms a little “o”, then she says, "Well, I haven't been in a dress like this before."
"It doesn't have anything to do with the dress."
I reach out, knowing that touching her is dangerous, but absolutely unable to resist. I drag my fingertips down her arm from her bare shoulder to her wrist, then lace our fingers together. "You know the dress matches the stones in your tiara perfectly."
She nods. "They brought it up earlier. I'm not sure if there's a certain way I’m supposed to wear it."
"Do you want me to help you with it?"
"I was hoping you would."
I notice that her opposite hand is resting against her stomach, the way she often holds it when her nerves have kicked up. The ring on her left hand sparkles in the light. That stone also matches her dress perfectly.
I'm slammed with the surge of possessiveness and lust that always hits me when I look at my ring on her finger.
"Where is it?" Suddenly I cannot wait to see her with the princess tiara on her head.
