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Thinking on my feet, I grab his hand and guide it up my body. That’s what my father said, right? As soon as I start using my womanhood to get what I want, no door in the world will stay closed to me.
Maddox doesn’t fight it. I guide his hand from my hip, up my smooth skin, and rest it on my breast. He looks down, the muscles in his neck tense with a swallow.
“You don’t have to do this,” he says.
“I want to,” I reply, leaning forward again, and kissing him.
I keep his hand against my breast, and his thumb starts running over the silk of my bra. While he loses himself to the kiss, I guide his free hand between my legs. His fingertips graze my sensitive womanhood and a moan escapes my mouth. Even the light touch of his strong hand makes me shudder.
Maddox loses himself to the moment. He squeezes my breast and with a swift motion, spins me around and presses me against the wall. He’s got a predatory look in his eye. Desperate and hungry, and yearning to take me. The hand between my legs gently strokes my inner thigh. His kiss is passionate, fiery, and leaves me out of breath.
Do I want this too? The way his hand moves up my thigh and towards my pussy, I’m tempted to say yes. But, before Maddox reaches his destination, he stops.
“Isabella, stop.” Maddox pulls away from me. My heart sinks. I look up at him, and my jaw drops slightly.
He shoves his hands into his pockets, turning back to the door. “I understand what this wedding means. I know that we’re not going to fall in love magically. This is part of your father’s plans. You don’t have to convince me to join by his order.”
“It’s not by his order,” I reply. “I want this.”
“No, you don’t.” Maddox steps forward, unlatching the hook on the door. “I shouldn’t have come here. I shouldn’t be following you. I won’t anymore. We’re set to marry, to have a child, and to be a part of some greater innovation. No more, no less.”
He inhales a deep lung full of air, before letting out a frustrated sigh. “My father wants to meet with The King to discuss this union. Will you let him know?” he asks. He doesn’t wait for an answer, before slipping through a narrow gap he makes in the door, so no one can see me inside.
I should be relieved that Maddox feels this way. That he’s treating it like the business transaction it’s meant to be. So, why don’t I? Why do I feel hurt by his admission? I change back into my jeans and shirt quickly, feeling self-conscious and ashamed in the all-white lingerie.
What was I thinking? What am I doing?
I just want this nightmare to be over.
