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“Would you have run away with him if he asked you to this morning?”
“No.” I shake my head. Not at all.
“What about at the beginning? When this entire fraud first started?”
I hesitate, my mind flooded with thoughts. Memories.
“And there’s my answer,” he says quietly.
My gaze goes to his, noting the displeasure on his face, and I look away quickly. I don’t bother denying it, because he’s right.
I might’ve listened to Seamus then. I might’ve—oh this pains me to think—run away with him if he asked. I didn’t know Perry at all. The arranged marriage was a way out for me. To get away from my father once and for all. It didn’t matter if I loved the man I was marrying or not.
If Seamus had shown up that early in the game, I would’ve gone with him. I know I would’ve.
But now?
I wouldn’t.
I can’t.
A ragged exhale leaves Perry but he doesn’t say anything else, and when I finally dare to look up at him, I find that he’s moved even closer to me, all the anger gone from his expression.
Now he just looks as tired as I feel.
“You need help out of that dress?” he asks, and not in a sexy way.
Which is fine. I don’t expect him to want to have sex with me tonight, not after everything that happened at the reception.
I nod my answer.
“Turn around,” he commands gently and I do as he says, sucking in a quiet breath when he begins to undo the many buttons that line the length of my spine. The fabric parts as he continues to work, his warm fingers brushing against my back and I try to suppress the shiver that wants to steal over me but it’s no use.
And he feels it. He pauses for a moment and I go completely still, wondering what he’s going to do next.
My husband doesn’t disappoint. He draws his finger along my spine, starting between my shoulder blades, his touch so light, I can almost believe he’s not touching me at all.
But he is, and that gives me…so much hope.
Too much.
“Fuck, Charlotte.” He sounds pained. Tortured. The last button is undone and then he’s pushing the gown off of me, until it falls in a heap around my feet, the frothy skirt tall enough to reach my knees. “Look at you.”
I’m wearing the white lacy strapless bra and matching panties—well, really, it’s a thong. My entire ass is bared and he’s currently staring at it. I can feel his eyes on me, heavy and hot. I want him to see me like this. I’m his wife now.
I want him to treat me like one. As if I’m his.
And no one else’s.
“Help me out of the dress, Perry,” I say with a confidence I don’t actually feel. He grabs hold of my upper arm, stabilizing me as I try to step out and over the pile of fabric that is my wedding gown, but I nearly fall over.
He catches me before I do. Wraps his arms around my waist from behind and completely lifts me up, making me squeal. He kicks the dress out of his way before he deposits me back onto the floor. I’m about to turn and face him but he doesn’t give me the chance, moving far too quickly. His hands find my waist once more and then he’s pushing me, sending me toppling onto the bed, where I land on my stomach in the middle of the rose petals.
I try to turn around yet again but he’s on me, pressing my body into the mattress, the scent of roses surrounding me, the petals sticking to my skin. I turn my face to the side, my cheek resting on the bed, and I close my eyes when I feel his big, hot body wrap all around me, holding me in place.
“I shouldn’t do this,” he mutters and I wonder if he’s talking to me or to himself. “I shouldn’t.”
I don’t speak, afraid I’ll say the wrong thing. Worried I’ll snap him out of whatever spell he’s currently under that has him wrecked over me.
