Page 18 of Princess Bride Swap

“I’m certainly glad you think so,” she managed to return, without jumping at the contact of his hand on her neck, then back, then at the top button. She could feel his breath dance across her skin. It seemed an interminable stretch of minutes as the dress gently pulled and then began to sag.

She didn’t hold it up this time. Even though the idea of baring herself to him made her shake, she kept her hands firmly at her side. Even as the dress slid down, though it stopped at her hips. She could feel him tug it down over.

So the only things she was wearing were underwear and a pair of stockings. Her dress in a heap at her feet. She focused on breathing evenly, just like she tried to do when she felt a panic attack creeping up. Careful, numbered inhales. Slow, controlled exhales.

It was just bodies. Just...inevitabilities. Better to get it over with, wasn’t that always her motto?

“Step out,” Lyon said. She couldn’t quite ascertain what his voice sounded like. Tense, maybe. Still, she followed instructions.

She didn’t turn to face him though. She couldn’t quite bring herself to.

“Turn around, Beau.”

She wanted to make some quip about him needing to saypleaseor something about not liking being ordered around. But in this strange, not-herself-at-all moment, she found being obedient wasexactlywhat she wanted. It felt like a safety blanket. Something she couldn’t do wrong. So she turned.

He muttered something in Italian, but she was pretty sure it was agoodsomething, based on the intent glint in his eyes. The way it hit her like its own force, a flame. Her skin felt tight, and she wanted to shake but she wouldn’t let herself. She held his gaze. She stood tall and proud.

Even as the air felt cool on her skin. Even as she felt hot from the inside out. Even as she felt the need to clench her legs together just to ease some of the wild tension stitching itself tightly within her.

How did she protect herself from this? From all these physical responses. Chemistry. Attraction. Desire. Whatever word, it didn’t really matter. She had to find some way to survive it.

“I think it’s your turn,” she managed to say. Because this wasn’t just her. It was both of them. Stuck in this strange place the world and their own stubbornness had landed them in.

She should enjoy it. Whatever pieces of it she could.

He inclined his head then undid his cuff links, set them in his meticulous way on a little dish on the end table. Then he unbuttoned his shirt in quick efficient moves. He shrugged out of the shirt, laid it across the tie on the chair. The entire time, his gaze never left her body. Like he was drinking in every detail, memorizing it, and everywhere his gaze landed she felt branded. Like every inch of her skin was made specifically for him to see.

To touch.

But he didn’t touch. He stayed just out of reach as he unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. So that they stood there, in little to nothing, simply watching each other.

Strangers.

Husband and wife.

She had certainly never been in a room before with a man in his underwear. While she stood there, naked from the waist up. And if she’d dreamed of a scenario like this, she would have included some touching. Kissing. Abedmaybe, instead of all this standing. Staring.Breathinglike they were running marathons.

But there was something exhilarating about it. The anticipation. The wait. The soaking it all in.

“The tiara is an excellent touch,” he finally said, breaking that silence that had been building like some kind of crescendo in a symphony.

She lifted a hand. She’d completely forgotten it was still pinned to her hair.

“Leave it,” he ordered sharply when she moved to pull out a pin.

He had never spoken to her like that before—with a hint of some...edge. It heated through her bloodstream like a shot of alcohol. If he didn’t touch her... “Lyon.”

But something changed. He stepped back. That intense look shuttered. “I think that should be enough for tonight,tesoruccia.”

She could only stare at him. Enough? But she was...she wasthrobbing. She wasnaked, mostly. And he was near enough. He hadn’t even touched her.

“Go get dressed for sleep. Step four will come soon enough.”

Step four?What if she wantedstep fournow? What if she wanted to be touched?

But he’d turned his back on her, and all those soaring feelings, all those hopes, deflated. She knew she hadn’t done anything wrong. He’d liked what he’d seen initially, so what would have changed? Nothing to do with her. Whatever it was came from him, internally.

And even though her new hopes might include an interesting and enjoyable physical relationship with Lyon while trying to produce heirs, she certainly wasn’t foolish enough to think there would be some...emotional one.

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