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I move to the bed.

“Why did you let me pay?”

My hand stills on the zipper as I glance at him. His jaw is tense, his hands clasped behind him.

“Because you gave me a choice.”

When I’d first walked into the boutique, it had taken willpower to keep my anger in check. I thought he had brought me to one of the most exclusive dress shops in the world because he had known my budget would be stretched to the limit by a mere belt, let alone an actual dress. That he would present it as an opportunity to tap into the money he’d deposited.

But when he’d offered me not just the gift of a dress but to choose for myself, my anger had crumbled, replaced by an emotion I’m still too afraid to examine closely.

“It’s been a long time since anyone other than my mom gave me a gift.”

His eyes flare. “I’m glad it could be me.”

I nod and quickly look away before I make a fool of myself. I unzip the bag halfway. Violet-colored chiffon peaks through the gap. When Michail joined me on the platform, I knew. Knew I had to have the dress that would always make me think of how he stood just behind me, the barest touch of his fingers on my back setting fire to every suppressed desire that’s been smoldering since we first locked eyes all those months ago.

When I look back at Michail, my breath catches. He’s staring at me, his gaze burning, possessiveness and lust etched into his face.

“Good choice.”

My thighs grow damp as my ache returns, deepens with every passing moment. “Thank you.”

Is that my voice? Husky and breathless? I hesitate for a split second, caught between self-preservation and a consuming desire that intensifies with each passing moment. Now, as we prepare to walk into our first public event as husband and wife, the need to be with him, to have him in the one way he’ll let me, is a demand I can no longer deny.

“I could use some help getting into it.”

His body visibly tightens. “Now?”

The word is a guttural growl that spears straight to my core.

“Yes.” I reach down and grab the hem of my shirt. “It might take a while to put on.”

I whisk my shirt over my head. Nerves hit, fast and vicious. My body has changed so much since we were together, from my ever-expanding stomach to my breasts swelling above the cups of my bra.

He stalks toward me with slow, measured steps that make me want to scream at him to hurry. His gaze is scalding as his eyes linger on my breasts, my stomach, my legs. He stops in front of me, hands fisted at his sides.

“Last chance, Alessandra.”

I raise my chin up even as I quake inside. “Are you going to kiss me or not—”

He wraps an arm around my naked waist, the heat of his skin a brand against my back. His other hand comes up to cradle my face with a tenderness that stings my eyes.

And then he feasts on me. Mouth on mine, firm with need, his tongue sweeping across my lips with a masculine confidence that has me opening for him. His fingers tug at my hair. When it cascades down my back, his groan vibrates against my lips and fills me with feminine confidence.

I push my hands between our bodies and tug his shirt up, thrilling at the feel of bare skin and muscle. The hand at my back moves up. One slight tug and my bra falls away. Michail pulls back and stares down at me.

“God, you’re beautiful.”

My teeth sink into my lower lip. I hadn’t even realized how deeply my insecurities had taken root until that moment. A thought that’s obliterated as he leans down and presses an open-mouthed kiss to my skin.

My eyes drift shut and I moan his name, my head dropping back as he sucks one nipple into the wet heat of his mouth. He pulls me deeper, sensation spearing out from my breast and through my body. He repeats his movements on my other breast, driving me to the edge of madness as he nudges me back toward the bed.

Slowly, he lowers me until I’m sitting on the edge. He pulls back. Cool air kisses my nipples. He hooks his fingers in the waistband of my pants and pulls down. I arch off the bed for a moment.

And then I’m naked before him.

Even though my blood feels like it’s on fire, even though I want nothing more than to feel him inside me, my hands drift to my thighs, my fingers splaying to cover myself.