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37
Theresa
I do, and that is the problem. This man has been nothing but rude to me since we met. Oh, he’s made me orgasm, but he’s never been open with me. Not about his past, not about why he agreed to marry me—I mean, why he really agreed to marry me. And then he kidnaps me and brings me here, all without giving me an explanation for why. And yet, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be. There’s no one else I’d trust more to keep me safe.How fucked up is that?
I close the distance between us and he stiffens.
"I understand," I murmur, "I know you’ll keep me safe. I trust you, Axel."
His gaze narrows. Some of the tension seems to leave his shoulders. He drags his gaze across my features, and my breath catches. Something in how he’s watching me makes me feel like I am at his mercy. And I am, make no mistake. I am in his house, without any of my friends or family, without any money or my purse or my phone with me. I run my suddenly damp finger down my wedding dress which I am still wearing.
The firelight catches on my ring and I pause. He seems to see it the same time as me for his jaw flexes. "Come here," he holds out his hand.
I hesitate.
"Thought you said you trusted me?" he murmurs. His blue gaze bores into me and a rush of heat sizzles over my skin. It arrows straight to my core, where a pulse blooms to life.
"Theresa?" He arches an eyebrow.
I swallow, take a step forward, another, then place my hand in his.
He leans forward and presses a kiss to my fingers. Goosebumps pop on my skin. I wasn’t expecting that from him. He nips on my finger tip, then closes his mouth around it. My belly clenches. A moan leaks from my lips and his mouth curls.
"You are in my home, under my protection. I can promise you that I will guard you with my life, Theresa."
Something hot stabs at my chest. "What if I don’t want that?" I swallow, "What if I don’t want anything to happen to you?"
"I thought you were angry at me for bringing you here."
"I still am," I try to tug my hand from his. but he doesn’t release it, "doesn’t mean I want to see you hurt."
His lips kick up, "Concerned about me, wife?"
That heat in my chest detonates and spreads to other parts of my body. "I don’t want to be," I say truthfully, "but I’d never wish harm on anyone else, including you."
"I think you are lying."
Heat flushes my skin. I pull my hand from his, and this time, he releases it.
"I have never lied to you, Axel. Unlike you."
A pulse flares to life at his temple. The skin around his eyes tightens. Shit, why did I have to go and spoil the moment we were having there? Anger rolls off of him and my belly flip flips. Damn it, even his annoyance turns me on. The way he pouts, how his gaze intensifies, how his nostrils flare as his fingers tighten around the glass. I squeeze my thighs together and the alertness in his gaze signals that he’s noticed it. Nothing escapes him, does it? I turn away—because if I stand there longer, I’ll sink to my knees and reach for his zipper and—Argh, don’t think about it. Don’t.I walk over to the shelves of books that line the wall, run my finger down the spines:War and Peace, Pinocchio, The Ugly Duckling, Harry Potter, The PrincebyNiccolò Machiavelli,a book of poems byLord Byron.My finger touches the book and the entire panel swings open.
"Oh," I gasp as a room comes into view. It’s lit only by the light that streams in from behind me.
"You’ve found my secret, I see."
"Eh?" I gasp, then turn around, trip on my own feet, and almost fall, except he grips my shoulder and steadies me. "You scared me," I say with a nervous laugh. Shit, now I sound afraid. And I am not afraid. Not of him, but about what I am going to find in the room behind me. Well, the jury’s out on that. "What’s in there?" I murmur.
"Wouldn’t you like to find out?"
"Are you inviting me in?"
He moves forward and I skitter back and past the doorway.
"Now you are already in." One side of his lips kicks up. My pulse rate ratchets up. Heat from his body pours over me and slams into my chest. I gasp and the scent of him intensifies. My toes curl and my scalp tingles. I’ve always had this unreasonable attraction to him, but in his home, under his roof, surrounded by his things, his magnetism is potent. If I stand here a second longer, I am going to throw myself at him and ask him to fuck me. Which is fine, he’s my husband, right?
But our relationship is far from conventional, and damn, if I am going to ask him for anything! I spin around, walk inside the room. Behind me, I hear his footsteps, then the clink as he places his glass on a table. The click of his lighter and the flicker of the flame precede the diminishment of the darkness. I turn to find he’s lit one of the candles on a stand.
