Page 13 of The Duke and the Temporary Bride

“And when I wish to go outside? Shall I ask your permission for each book I wish to read?”

The change in his expression told her that he finally understood what she was doing—mocking him. His gaze hardened, and he bared his teeth like a wolf stalking its prey. But Selina, feeling fed up, did not care.

“Stop that,” he commanded.

“Perhaps you would like the final say over what I wear each day too,” she continued, ignoring his words. “I would hate for you to be embarrassed by me if we were seen in public together.”

“I said, stop that.”

“Not that we will be seen in public, so there is no need to worry. I wonder if you will also chain me to the wall at night. May I request a collar rather than manacles? I have such weak wrists, and I fear they may hurt me.”

“Selina…” The corner of his lips twitched again, and his leg began to bounce. “You are being highly ridiculous. I was simply expressing a concern that?—”

“That I belong to you, I heard you,” she cut him off. “And I am simply trying to ascertain what I will be allowed to do while under your roof.”

“It is not my roof. It will be our home, and all I wish is for you to be comf?—”

“Your prisoner, I heard you the first time.”

“Enough!” Benedict roared, well and truly at the end of his tether.

Selina’s eyes widened, and she squeaked in shock, pushing her body back against the seat as if the mere force of his expletive was like a gust of wind battering her.

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, looking away.

Her heart raced as she felt his glare on her. Her body felt as if it was on fire. Fear seized her as she suddenly remembered the last time she had tested his temper, and how that had ended. In the hallway, on the night of the announcement of their betrothal, his huge body looming over her in a way that suggested he could crush her like a bug if he so wished.

“You are trying to bait me.” He pushed himself to the edge of his seat until he was leaning over her.

“N-No, I swear I am not”

She pressed her body as hard as she could against the cushions, trembling beneath him. And while she did indeed feel the fear build inside her, there was something else. Something that she had felt before but still did not fully understand.

Why does this excite me? It should not. I should wish to scream! And yet…

“You are,” he growled as he bore down on her. “You take pleasure in it.”

“I do not.”

“Yes, you do.” He reached out and stroked the side of her face. His fingers were rough on her smooth skin.

She gasped at his touch, and her heart leaped into her throat. Looking up, she met his eyes, and when she saw the rage in them, she gasped again. Only this time, she did not look away. She held his stare, determined not to give in… because she wanted to see what would happen if she pushed.

“You are not my prisoner,” he said in a deep whisper, almost a growl. “But you will treat me with respect. Is that understood?”

“And if I do not?” she asked, her eyes flashing defiantly.

Those words had come from nowhere, but she knew right away they were the right ones. The way the Duke balked, the way he then sneered and growled as if to reassert dominance… Oh, the way it had her legs trembling was a sensation she very much enjoyed.

“Do not push me,” he warned as he leaned even closer. “You will not like it.”

He was on top of her, his face a mere inch away. She could feel his breath on her lips. She could literally feel his heartbeat, as if it was her own. And as he glared at her, his eyes flicked to her lips…

“I am not your prisoner,” she murmured. “I am your wife. Although I wish I was not even that.”

“That makes two of us.”

They stared at one another in challenge. Like a wolf coming upon a rabbit in the wild, Benedict had his prey trapped beneath him. But this rabbit wasn’t going to go quietly, and she made sure that he knew it.

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