Page 22 of The Unplanned Wedding

Knox

She looks incredible. I take in the green dress with the fitted bodice that outlines her magnificent breasts. It has a slash neckline, sitting just below her collarbone, and long fitted sleeves extending to the wrists. It cinches in at the waist before it ends in a dramatic skirt, the front hitting just above the knee and the back extending to floor-length, to create a sweeping effect. It’s modest, as befits a royal reception, yet the fitted tailoring highlights her luscious curves.

I bought this the first day she walked into my office. I barely knew her, but now that I know what kind of woman she is, I see my instincts were correct. She looks stunning, alluring, and sultry. With the towering heels she’s wearing that showcase her shapely hips, she feels like a wet dream.

The way she climaxed when I spanked her was a thing of beauty. I smelled her arousal, felt the give of the skin over her shapely butt through her clothes, and almost tore them off her and mounted her right there. Good thing I stopped myself. The chemistry between is off-the-charts, andwhen it comes to matters of work, she doesn’t hesitate to go toe-to-toe with me.

She’s quick to comply with my wishes, eager to please, desirous of my approval, and loves it when I treat her as my plaything. I enjoyed it so much warning bells sounded in my head. It’s why I didn’t call her when I was away on my business trip. I kept our communication to a minimum, limited to official matters and only by email. What I didn’t expect was to miss her while I was gone.

I missed her voice, her scent, her ability to solve any problems I lobbed at her. I forbade myself to call her, then found myself looking forward to her emails. I’ve fallen asleep thinking of her sweet smile, her angelic features, and jerked off to images of her bent over the boardroom table with her gorgeous, pear-shaped behind offered up for my perversions.

I’m going slightly out of my mind with wanting to ‘play’ with her again, and that is wrong. She needs to protect herself from me, not be so ready to explore her own limits. The fact that she’s so open with me makes me feel vulnerable in a way I haven’t felt since... I was injured. It’s pissing me off to the extent that I want to lash out at her.

It’s why I circle my finger. "Let me see what my money’s bought me for this evening."

A flash of hurt shivers across her face, followed by her eyes spiking with anger. Instantly I regret hurting her, and that's a surprise. I’m not someone who second-guesses myself. But the way my heart squeezes in my chest, and the way my groin tightens, has me questioning my motives in asking her to accompany me tonight.

She sets her chin, letting me see that glimmer of defiance that makes our interactions so interesting.That’s my girl.Then, she reluctantly does a small turn, and the way her skin winks through the transparent fabric that constitutes the back of her dress turns my blood to lava. She turns to face me, and a look of anticipation steals across her features.

I want to tell her she looks like a goddess. Like she was made to wear designer clothes and go to society events. But when I open my mouth, what comes out is, "You’ll do."

She gapes at me. Then looks me up and down. "I suppose, you will, too."

For a second, I’m taken aback, then I bark out a laugh. This woman? I’ve underestimated her.

"We’d better be off." I hold the door open and indicate she should precede me.

She levels a look filled with suspicion at me, then picks up her tiny evening bag—I made sure to order a range of handbags for her for everyday use, so she won’t have to carry around that tatty satchel—and heads toward me. She walks out without a second look in my direction. I wish I could say that I don’t stare at her swaying arse, at the way the shelf of her butt seems to get a life of its own, thanks to the fit of her dress and the added inches to her height that make her push out her bottom as she walks. I thank the stars that made me take the initiative by ordering this dress for her.

I follow her to the elevator, reaching out to slap the button to summon the car before she can. The doors slide open, and once again, I allow her to precede me inside. I hit the button for the reception area, and we stand in silence as the numbers decrease on the indicator.

Her scent fills the space—rose and something else noticeably light, something like honeysuckle and…strawberries. She’s everything that’s lush, and rich, and abundant, and succulent. And so soft. So ripe. I want to take a bite out of her, just push my nose into the curve of her neck and taste her. Would the scent be more concentrated there? And in the cleavage between her luscious breasts? And in the dent between her fleshy thighs? My mouth waters. My cock extends. Thank fuck, I’m wearing a jacket that covers the tent that’s sure to have formed between my legs.

As the seconds tick past, she shuffles her feet, then shifts her weight, and I know she’s uncomfortable with the silence. Sure enough, she bursts out, "Why do you have to be so rude? Especially after you were nice enough to have a team come in to help me dress?"

"Nothing to do with being nice. I was making sure your appearance doesn’t let me down." My words elicit a stricken look on her face. Once again, my rib cage tightens. Goddam, every step with this woman is akin to walking across enemy territory, littered with land mines. I never know what might detonate.

When the elevator comes to a halt, I follow her out, then lead the way to the doorway of the office building where my Bentley limousine is waiting.The valet opens the door, and she slides into the back seat. I climb in after her. The limo slides forward. For a few minutes, we drive in silence, then I turn to her.

"That was uncalled for." I hold out my hand. "Let’s start again. We were never formally introduced, were we? I’m Knox Davenport."

She folds her arms across her chest. "That wasn’t an apology."

I tilt my head and consider her words. "It wasn’t. And I understand I hurt your feelings, but I was speaking the truth."

Her eyebrows knit, then she lowers her head. "I suppose, I should be grateful you don’t pretend repentance when you’re not."

"You’ll always get the truth from me. And I expect the same from you.”

I glance at my outstretched hand, then back at her. She slowly slides her hand in mine. I squeeze her delicate fingers, and goosebumps pepper her décolletage. A quiver of heat sizzles to my belly, tightening my gut further. She seems as surprised as I am by the reaction.

When I don’t release her hand right way, she laughs, the sound uncomfortable. "Truth, huh?" She looks away, then back at me. "The truth is, I’m attracted to you."

I stiffen. I hadn’t been expecting that. Once more, she’s taken me by surprise, and I’m unsure what to make of her confession.Me and unsure?Another first.

"You sound like you don’t believe me. For that matter, you don’t seem surprised that I said it aloud,” she muses.

"On the first, you’re right.” No way, can an unsullied angel like her want what someone like me, someone with a damaged, grotesque visage, can offer. Besides, I don’t deserve to be happy. And the fact that she’s attracted to me doesn’t mean anything. She may have enjoyed the spanking, but when she finds what my inclination for dirty, filthy kink extends to, it’ll undoubtedly shock her and send her running.

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