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"Hmm." She holds her hand out to him, and Tiny licks it. He makes a contented sound at the back of his throat. Then rubs his head against her fingers.
"I think he wants you to pet him," I murmur.
She scratches him behind his ear, and Tiny arches his neck.
"You remind me of the men I’ve been with—all bark, no bite, like to be petted, and overdoing on the drink without realizing the repercussions," she says in a thoughtful voice.
"Clearly, you haven’t been with the right kind of man yet," Hunter’s voice cuts in from behind her.
Zara stiffens. She arches her eyebrows at me, but I’m too distracted watching Liam approach. His hair is mussed as if he’s run his fingers through it. Other than that, he looks like he walked off the pages of a fashion magazine, or off a catwalk. Once more, I can’t help but admire how the fitted jacket clings to his shoulders, how his pants mold to his powerful thighs, how the white of his shirt sets off the tan on his skin.
He walks over and holds out his hand. "Dance with me."
I blink. We didn’t discuss having a first dance, and vetoed speeches by bridesmaids or groomsmen. Guess both of us wanted the ceremony to be done with and focus on having enough pics and video footage to share with the influencers and media. After all, the main reason for this entire charade is to prove to the world at large that we’re married, so he can claim his inheritance, and I can legitimize my wedding planning business. And we’ve done that. So why is he asking me to dance with him now?
"Isla," he lowers his voice to a hush.
A shiver ladders up my spine. My nerve endings crackle. And before I can stop myself, I’ve placed my hand in his and he’s pulled me up to my feet. He leads me out to the center of the space, then past it and out of the tent. "Where are we going?"
He doesn’t reply.
I glance up at his features, but he’s staring straight ahead. He leads me down the decking where we got married earlier, then toward the beach. The last rays of the sun slant down over us. The sun is a ball of fire sinking slowing into the horizon.
He pauses and pulls out his phone. "What do you say, shall we put up the video showing us as a happily married couple?"
"Here?" I glance about the decking in the backyard of the house where the wedding had been held. Ahead is the beach and behind us, the sounds of the party floats over to us. "Isn’t this a little informal?"
"Isn’t that the best way to be? So it comes across as unplanned and spontaneous?"
"You do have a point there,” I concede.
He pulls the phone from his pocket, switches it to selfie mode, then wraps his arm about my waist and pulls me toward him. He holds up the phone so the screen reflects back the two of us. Even with my heels, I only reach his chest. My cheeks are flushed, and my eyes shine. My hair is behaving itself; its simple style enhances the look of the dress which reflects back the rays of the sun. He flattens his palm against my stomach, and the darkness of his fingers is almost obscene against the white of my dress. I glance into his eyes to find he’s surveying me with a frown on his face.
"What?" I frown back.
"Something’s missing."
"There is?"
He nods, then releases me long enough to pull something from his pocket. "Hold my phone, will you?"
When I do, he slides a chain around my bare neck. The locket is a single tear-drop-shaped sapphire. Sparks of blue and gray flash from it. "Wow, it’s… It’s gorgeous."
"It matches your eyes."
"And yours." I touch my left hand to the stone and realize it matches the one on my ring. I’ve never been into jewelry, have never cared about the size of the stones I wear, but this… The combination of the pendant at my neck and the jewel on my finger turns me from a woman into a queen.
"You’re my queen," he says as if he’s read my mind.
"You’re…scary." I half laugh. "You seem to pick the thoughts from my mind." Hopefully, not all of my thoughts though. Because if he’s read half of what goes on in my head, then this conversation could be going very differently.
"You do realize I don’t really care what you wear or how you look. In fact, I’d prefer for you not to have a shred of clothing on. I like you bare and naked and writhing under my cock."
Heat surges under my skin. My breath comes in pants. I’m going to go up in smoke right here. Self combust under the onslaught of his gaze. Melt into a puddle at his feet, and every drop will still ask him to fuck me.
"But if you must wear anything, I’d like for it to be the jewelry I’ve placed on your body."
Before his words have sunk in, he holds up the phone, and once more, pulls me close. The camera starts recording.
