Page 15 of His Bride

“Good girl,” I murmur. She turns her head and looks at me over her shoulder, biting her lip.

Fuck, I want those lips.

I want her entire body wrapped around me.

Dreams do come true.

EIGHT

MATILDE

This is happening.Now. It’s happening now. I am about to get fucked.

By my captor.

My husband.

My protector?

I can’t help thinking that this is still some kind of elaborate joke. Especially when I saw Chrissy. That would just be the icing on the cake of my life. I almost died of embarrassment. She was my worst nightmare in school. From kindergarten through high school, she was Little Miss Perfect. I hated the looks of pity on my new family’s faces. I fucking froze, and I was once again that fat little girl who couldn’t deal with her bullies.

I’m standing in the fanciest hotel I’ve ever been in. I’m with my husband and don’t know what to do now. He sets the bag down on the floor and moves toward the kitchen. I move toward the window and see the view of the harbor. It’s a breathtaking view, and the history of the spot feels like it’s all around.

I hear a champagne bottle uncork, and music starts playing. Why is he dragging this out? I’m so freaking nervous, and I don’t want to be. For once, I want to be the confident woman who knows what she wants and goes for it. Instead, this man makes me even more insecure than I would normally be.

“Champagne?” he asks, coming up behind me. I can see his reflection in the glass of the window.

“Thank you,” I say, facing him and taking the glass.

“To us,” he says, clinking his glass with mine.

“To us.” It’s getting harder and harder to remember that I hate this guy. That I’m mad at him. “It’s good.” The sip I take is delicious.

“It is,” he agrees.

I take another sip, and then he takes the glass from me. I need to finish that, or I will have a panic attack. The man’s smolder should be illegal.

“I wasn’t done with that.”

“Dance with me.”

“What?” I ask, momentarily confused.

“Is it even a wedding if we don’t have a first dance?”

“I guess not.” He pulls his phone out and fiddles with it. The song playing cuts out, and a new one starts. My favorite song,Anything Could Happenby Ellie Goulding, is playing, but it’s an even sexier remix. “How did you know?”

“Cashel,” he says simply, and I nod.

Then he pulls me close to him. His arms go around my waist, and I put my arms around his neck. Then we move to the music. For three minutes, it’s just him and I. He stares down at me the entire time like he’s memorizing my face. I stare at him too. His beard is full and close to his face. For the first time, I notice he has dark brown eyes, but his right eye has a speck of gold in it. His hand squeezes my ass, and I moan.

The song ends, and another starts. I have to step back from him.

“I’m going to freshen up,” I say, grabbing my champagne flute and moving toward the bathroom. I grab the bag from the floor by the elevator as I go by but stop. “Um…”

“Yes?” he asks.

“Will you unzip me, please?”

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