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“I saw you as perfect.” He stopped at the bottom and looked up. His chin met my henna inked toes. His hands gripping the marble platform keeping me out of his reach. “I saw you as everything I wanted and everything I would never earn.”
“I’m not perfect.”
He nodded, reaching out to wrap his strong, filthy fingers around my impeccable ankle. “No, you’re not.” I moaned as he ran his hand as high as he could go, scraping nails to the back of my knee. “You’re so much fucking better than perfect.” Yanking me forward, he buckled my legs and caught me as I tumbled into his arms.
My opal dress ballooned around us, my hair obscured my vision, but his body was hard and safe against mine. His arms bunched as he swung me to the floor, placing me gently before him.
“You’ve made me the happiest man alive, Eleanor Sinclair.”
I blinked as he brushed aside my hair and cupped my cheeks. He trembled as he ran his thumb over my bottom lip.
“I will never stop loving you, worshipping you, thinking up delicious fucking ways to pleasure you.” He tilted my head to the side, exposing my throat so he could run his nose along my neck and dip along my collarbone. “Tonight, I wish to fuck you in every position. I want to make love to you until your voice is hoarse and your body is deliciously sore. I want to christen every chamber of this castle and wring your blood dry of countless orgasms.”
I moaned as he unsheathed his teeth, biting me with threatening strength. “There is just one catch, my darling wife.”
My brain tried to follow; I did my best to stop panting for more and focus on the ultimatum in his tone, but I struggled. He’d drugged me with words, and I was utterly ruined for more.
He chuckled as he captured my chin, his navy eyes glowing with self-loathing and heated hunger. “In order to pleasure you in the way you deserve on your wedding night, I have a request to ask.”
I swallowed and shoved back some of my drunkenness. “What request?”
He held up his hand, splaying open his palm.
Empty.
I frowned. “There’s nothing there.”
“There is, you just can’t see it with the fantasy. Touch it. We’re not wearing finger sensors so you’ll be able to feel it.”
Carefully, I ran my hand over the invisible item. My eyebrows drew together as I followed the tiny glass bottle along with the squishy dropper at the top. I didn’t recognise the shape, but sharp suspicions landed on my tongue. “Elixir?”
“No. Never that. Not again. I will never put you in such danger.” Pulling away, he opened the bottle and pressed the dropper to suck a few droplets of whatever tincture was inside. All his actions were a pantomime, manipulating an invisible thing. “This is cinta. A much lower dose than elixir. It merely provides stamina to the user and highlights lust already in their system. It’s been tested and proven safe.”
“I’m wet enough as it is.” I smiled. “I don’t need any help sleeping with my husband.”
“And I’m happy to hear it.” His face darkened. “It so happens, I am rock fucking hard and struggling with self-control but…I am still healing and…” He swallowed hard before rushing, “Please don’t think I’m requesting we take this because I can’t perform or that I’m not out of my mind with fucking lust for you. I am. I will gladly throw this away if you ask. But…I am under no illusions that I’m not at my top capacity yet. I won’t be able to give you what you deserve for as long as I want. I want to be able to use you without succumbing to this shitty weakness still inside me.”
Crowding me, he wrapped possessive fingers around my nape. “I want to be on my knees between your legs, Eleanor. I want to be inside you as you scream. I want you to remember this night as the start of our beginning and not be governed by my pain—”
“You’re in pain?” I flinched and tried to get away. “Then we’ll stop. We can wait—”
“Wait?” He chuckled coldly. “I can’t wait, Jinx. I’m going to be inside you in a few minutes, with or without help. I just wanted to be honest of my limitations and admit that I want you more than I can physically provide.”
I stared at him.
How was it that his honesty made me love him more than his assurances that he was invincible? It made me lust for him and also want to honour him. He stood in rags all while he’d given me every penny he’d ever earned—legally and illegally—and now, he’d given me his utmost trust.
Trust by admitting his pain instead of hiding it. Trust that he wanted more than he could give.
