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The scent of various foods reached me before we entered the top-of-the-range kitchen. Three plates covered in stainless steel toppers waited on the small dining table there, and I guessed one of Oakengrove’s chefs had prepped the meal. Residents could order food to be delivered from a central kitchen, and most took advantages of the perk.
Next, Dax ushered me upstairs. There were four bedrooms in total, all en suite—one of which he used as an office. The largest was, of course, the master bedroom. Taking in the sight of his bed, I almost whistled. Nowthatwas a bed. A big-ass one that could sleep at least four people.Ifthose four people were snuggly sleepers, that was.
I doubted Dax was a nighttime cuddler. I, personally, was not. Nor did I move much in my sleep. I always picked my own side of any mattress, and I rarely left it—no matter how big the bed, no matter if I was alone in it or not.
The room boasted other features, such as a massive walk-in closet, a jacuzzi, and also a large balcony that overlooked a pretty garden, modern patio area, and sizeable swimming pool. Again, there was a feeling of seclusion due to the amount of trees—they apparently didn’t only border the front of the lot, but the whole of it.
As I again stared down at the bed, my belly did some pathetic fluttering as I imagined rolling around in it with him. But then my stomach dropped as it occurred to me thatotherfemales had no doubt done some rolling in it.
Dax stalked closer to me. “I bought it new when I moved here not so long ago. The only women who’ve been to the villa other than you are my mom and sister.”
I arched a brow. “In other words, you haven’t fucked anyone in this bed?”
“Not yet,” he said, pinning me with a heated, meaningful look that promised all sorts of pleasure and made my hormones a little dizzy. “I fully intend to wreck you in it.”
A flush of warmth bloomed in the pit of my stomach.
“But not until you have two rings on that finger.”
Not until he’d closed our “deal,” he meant. “Areyougoing to wear one?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
A feeling of relief fluttering over me, I gave a slight shrug. “I remember you once saying you didn’t like to wear rings.”
“Generally, I don’t. But”—he narrowed his eyes—“you and I would have serious problems if you refused to wear your wedding band. I can be a selfish asshole, but I’m no hypocrite.”
Yeah, I’d never be able to describe him as “fair.” He could be as ruthless as any business mogul. But he had a deep sense of integrity and held himself to a certain standard—he avoided doing anything that seemed beneath him, as if refusing to disrespect himself.
“Come on, time for us to eat.” He turned away and headed for the door.
My gaze admittedly straying to his rather perfect ass, I followed him out of the room, across the landing, and over to the staircase.
As we descended it, he very briefly glanced at me over his shoulder. “So, what do you think of the place?”
“I like it.” It was bright. Airy. Elegant. Bigger than we’d need initially, but that wasn’t exactly a con. There seemed little point in requesting that we get a place elsewhere, particularly since I loved Oakengrove itself so much. “I could see myself living here.”
Reaching the foot of the stairs, he slid me a satisfied look. “Then we’ll move your things here the day after the wedding.”
“Why not before?”
He didn’t peer at me over his shoulder as he responded, “Because there’s no chance of us sharing a bed without me fucking you raw.”
My step faltered at the flatly spoken statement.
“As such, it’s best that you don’t officially move in until we’re married. Do you have a lot of things that will need bringing here?”
The way he so easily switched from making heated comments to asking casual questions was enough to unbalance a girl. “Not really. I don’t see the point in hauling all my furniture here when yours suit the place better, so I’d rather leave the bulk of it with Alicia—she’ll be buying my house.” It would mean she didn’t have to go through the trouble of furnishing it. “But there are some items I’ll want to bring.”
“There’s no lack of space here, so you won’t have a problem finding places for any of them to go.”
That was a fact.
He strolled into the kitchen and gestured for me to take a seat at the table. I guessed that he’d had someone set it for him, because I doubted he’d have personally gone throughthiskind of trouble. There was a soft white tablecloth, crystal glasses, stylish dishware, votive candles, and a small floral centerpiece. It was all set neatly, the two sides of the table symmetrical in their layout.
I wasn’t surprised that we weren’t eating in the dining room—the table there was long. Sitting at the small table here in the kitchen made the meal more intimate.
As Dax removed the covers from the plates, fragrant steam rushed up from my food to greet me. Taking in the sight of the chicken fried steak, cream cheese, mashed potato, and green beans, I glanced at him as I sank onto a chair. “Who told you this was one of my favorite dishes?” It was too much of a coincidence for him to otherwise have ordered it.
