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I step out of the shower stall completely naked. He rakes his gaze down my chest pausing on my breasts for a few seconds before he continues his visual journey over my stomach and down to my pussy.
My thighs clench and I resist the urge to cross my legs. Instead, I prop my hand on my waist and tip up my chin. "See something you like?" I attempt for a casual tone, but my voice comes out in the form of a squeak.
He doesn’t reply. Rather, he takes his time with a leisurely perusal as he drags his gaze back to my chest. My nipples bead and my breasts hurt. Damn it, if only he’d close the distance between us and crush me to the hard planes of his chest.
By the time he raises his gaze to my face, I am flushed.
"Well?" I demand, "I asked you a question."
"You’re not my type, but I’ll shag you on our wedding night."
My jaw drops. "What the hell?" I snap. "Do you have to be so uncouth?"
"Would you expect anything else from me?"
"I am not sure what to expect from you, to be honest." I raise a hand, then let it drop.
"I gotta admit, I didn’t expect you to propose to me either," he murmurs.
"And yet, you agreed?" I fold my arms around my waist and his gaze, once more, lowers to my chest. I resist the urge to look down, knowing my stance must lift my boobs and make them pop out a bit further.
"You knew I didn’t have a choice." He takes a step forward. I flinch.Don’t sidle back; don’t allow him to find out how nervous you are around him right now.I dig my bare feet into the floor and hold my position.
He arches an eyebrow, then closes the distance until he’s right in front of me. The heat from his body pours over me; the scent of him surrounds me. His blue eyes bore into me and my breath catches.
"I am not scared of you," I declare.
His lips twitch, "You should be." He drags his finger down the curve of my breast and a moan wells up my throat. I bite down on my lower lip as he draws a circle around my nipple. I feel the touch all the way to my core. My toes curl and a shiver runs down my spine.
"What are you doing?" I whisper.
"Checking out my merchandise."
Anger suffuses my veins. I lift my hand, but he’s too fast. He grabs my wrist; the next second, he’s turned me around with my arm behind my back, so I am facing the mirror. He hauls me to him, throws his other arm around my waist, and holds me immobile.
"Let go of me," I gasp.
"Why should I?" He slides his palm between my legs and cups my pussy, "After all, you are going to become my wife."
"I am not yet your wife," I remind him.
"Semantics," he drawls. "You opened the floodgates; now you have to deal with the aftermath."
"You could have refused, you know," I say in a tight voice. "It was a stupid suggestion on my part, said in a moment of craziness. You needn’t have played along."
"Oh, now she admits that it was a mistake."
"I never said that it was a mistake," I retort.
"And I never back down from a challenge." He slides his finger inside my channel and I draw in a breath.
"You’re fucking soaked," he growls. "Does it turn you on when I am rough with you, Sunshine."
Yes.
Yes.
"No," I snap, "of course, not."
