Page 47 of Wicked King

“You expect what?” she growls, marching toward me and digging her heel into my shoe.

“Son of a bitch!” I howl and leap back.

She glares up at me, arms knotted across her chest. “You expect me to part my legs for you at your beck and call? No wait, let me guess, you think my pussy now belongs to you because of this antiquated arrangement?”

“You will be my wife,” I snarl, “in every extent of the word.”

“I’ve heard of many sexless marriages.”

An uncontrollable, wild laugh titters out. “Yeah, after years of marriage, not in the beginning.” That’s exactly why I’d always refused to tie myself to one woman. “That’s why men cheat and?—”

“Oh, so you’re blaming the wife for a husband not being able to keep his dick in his pants?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying—” I release a frustrated growl. “Damn it, Jia. This doesn’t have to be so fucking hard.”

“You’re right, it didn’t have to be, but you and my grandfather made it this way when you took away my choice. I should have been consulted about this wedding. Even my brother told me about his intentions before he tried to sell me off to your twin.”

“Did he give you a choice in the matter?”

She grits her teeth, flashing me a feral smile. “Of course he didn’t, but at least I wasn’t blindsided. Not like this.”

“Are you ever going to get past this?”

“Ever? It’s been just over a week, Marco!” She stomps around the foyer, throwing her hands up. “Excuse me if I can’t bottle up all my feelings in a nice neat little corner in the far recesses of my soul like some people.”

Her astute observation catches me off-guard. Only a week with me and she already knows me better than any of the women I fucked for months, even Mel who I’d lived with. “Fine, take your own damned room,” I growl, “until we’re married. Then all bets are off.” I pause for dramatic effect then jerk my thumb over my shoulder in the direction her grandfather disappeared. “There are three bedrooms down that hallway.”

“And what’s that way?” She points across the great room to a small glass spiral staircase.

“That’s the loft. The master loft,” I amend.

Jia’s heels click-clack across the white marble of the sprawling living room, then she disappears around the open-concept kitchen.

“Jia?” I bark. “That’s my room…” I race behind her, but she’s taking the steps two at a time. If I wasn’t so annoyed, I would’ve been impressed by the ease in which she darts up the narrow steps with those heels.

When I reach the loft, she’s splayed across the plush comforter of the king-sized bed. Her hand glides across the Egyptian cotton, and a smile parts her ruby lips. “Oh, yes, this will do just fine.”

I’m so damned hard-up, I consider pinning her to the mattress and fucking her until she’s begging to come. She must notice the dark gleam in my eye because she scrambles to the edge of the bed and sears me with a murderous gaze of her own. “Get out of my room.”

“You’re out of your fucking mind, spitfire.”

“You just said I’m to be your wife in every sense of the word, right?”

I nod warily.

“Happy wife, happy life… you’ve heard that one, haven’t you, coglione?”

I’m impressed with not only how quickly she’s picked up the Italian word for asshole, but also with her pronunciation. “No, I’m afraid I’m not familiar with that saying,” I grit out.

“Well, you’re about it to learn it.”

I stalk toward her, unable to keep my feet still or my twitchy hands off her for a second longer. My fingers wrap around her throat, and she releases a satisfying gasp. “Must we have this discussion again? No one says no to me… And it will certainly not begin with my wife.”

“I’m not your wife yet,” she bites back and tries to stand.

I shove her back onto the end of the bed and rub my thumb across the soft indentation in her throat, exerting a bit more pressure. She draws in a sharp breath. “I can make our marriage a tolerable one—hell, even an incredible one—or I can make it misery for us both. But I need you to understand that I always get what I want.” I inch closer, placing a palm on either side of her thighs and run my nose across the shell of her ear. “And what I want, my lovely fiancée, is you, on your back, with your legs spread wide for me and only me.”

Her breath hitches, and I know her well enough now to realize it’s not from fear. This woman isn’t the slightest bit scared of me. Which is something that should frustrate me, but instead, I’m only intrigued. What has she survived to inherit those balls of steel?

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