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“There must be like…other things we can do?”
“Yes, but we do have to consummate this marriage. You know that, and so do I. It's the rule for my family and for yours. We can wait, though.”
I nod and swallow. He stands and walks over to the dresser. For the first time, I see a small plate of chocolate-coveredstrawberries, and some champagne. He opens the bottle quietly, with none of the pomp and circumstance of a fizz and pop.
He pours champagne into a flute, and then pours one for himself. I let out a breath.
"Hungry?"
I nod. I'm starving. I barely ate dinner.
"Let's start with these."
He brings the tray of strawberries over, and I reach for one, but he gives me a playful slap of the hand.
"Hey!"
"You can have one," he says. “But only if I’m the one to feed it to you."
Oh, boy. I have such strange, warring sensations inside me. A part of me wants him to touch me. I want to completely forget the assault that I experienced. I want to lose myself in pleasure, and I know it's right there… right out of reach. If only…
And then a part of me wants to move over and go to sleep and pretend this never happened.
"We have no choice, Harper. But we can make this fun."
I know he’s right. We don’t. Our union was a solidification of two families, a calculated move.
He hands me the flute of champagne. I've already had so much wine, I start to feel a little uninhibited when I finish it.
I lean back in the bed, curious what he’ll do next. Even though he’s the one I’m watching and he’s the one supposedly in charge, I’m the one that’s said no. I feel empowered.
“Open.”
I hold his gaze while he pushes the chocolate-covered point of a strawberry past my lips. I bite, holding his gaze, and an explosion of flavors fills my mouth. I swallow and lick my lips. Mmm.
“Do you smoke?”
I shake my head, bemused.
I watch as he walks to a corner of the room and opens a desk drawer. Takes something out. Holds it between his fingers, puts it to his lips, and lights it.
The sweet smell of smoke fills the room.
Oh.
He opens a window and I openly stare at him. It's strange, me wearing my underwear, him wearing his.
He's so fucking hot. His legs are chiseled, his ass perfection. His back is stunning. He has tattoos in various places, loops and lines, words and swirls, but nothing I can really distinguish right now.
“Take it easy if you haven’t had it before. Do you smoke?”
I shake my head. I might not be a virgin, but I’m woefully inexperienced.
He puts the joint between my fingers. With a shaking hand, I bring it to my lips and take a tiny drag. I sputter a little, but hetalks me through it. Soon, a deliciously floaty sensation comes over me.
A corner of his lips quirks up. "You're gonna fall asleep for days after this.”
“Sounds delightful. Just make sure you shave me so I don’t become the female version of Rip van Winkle.”
