Page 55 of The Devil's Pawn

A half smile tugs at my lips. “Jealous?”

She laughs. “You want to see jealousy at play? Look in the mirror.” Ripping her hand from mine, she gathers up her dress and stomps up the stairs. “I’m going to bed. Goodnight.”

Let her go.

For a few seconds, my brain wins the war, but moments later, I take off up the stairs after my wife, my dick hard as a cricket bat, as it often is when Imogen runs her mouth. By the time she approaches her bedroom door, I’m right behind her. She turns to face me, eyes flashing with burning anger.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“This.” I snag her around the back of her neck, pressing her into my body. I take her mouth, using my frame to hold her against the door. Electricity crackles between us, and her intoxicating scent of bergamot and rose envelopes me. She doesn’t resist, opening her mouth beneath mine, allowing me unrestricted access to the sweetness of her.

The constant battles we’ve fought these last few weeks explodes into a hunger born of restraint. Passion erupts between us, and I drive my hips forward, circling them until she utters a groan filled with need. I kiss her like a man facingdeath. I kiss her like it’s the last kiss I’ll ever have, and she kisses me back as if it’s her first.

Time stops as we surrender to our mutual desires. She virtually melts in my arms, her fingers playing with the hair at my nape. My skin peppers with goosebumps in response to her cool touch. I can’t get enough, yet as my hands squeeze her breasts through the silky fabric of her dress, a moment of clarity bursts through the fog. I break away from her, my chest heaving.

No.Fuck, no. This can’t happen. I won’t let it happen, no matter how much my body craves to delve between her legs, to feel the sweet, soft flesh there, to burrow my fingers inside her and coat them in her desire. To bury my face between her breasts and lick the sweat from her skin.

She stands there with the flat of her palms resting on her abdomen, her lips swollen, her makeup smudged, her perfect hairstyle mussed, although I have no memory of shoving my hands through it. I’d thought she was the sexiest person alive when I entered the ballroom tonight, but seeing her in disarray like this, she’s never looked more tantalizing… or dangerous.

“Be in my office at nine-thirty tomorrow morning.”

She blinks several times as though she’s got something in her eye. “Why?”

Even now, with bewilderment etched into her features, she can’t help but question me.

“As my wife, there’s an expectation for you to accompany me on foreign trips, and depending on where that is, vaccinations may be required. My doctor is coming to administer them.”

Liar.

“Oh.”

She touches her bottom lip. I wish she wouldn’t. It makes me want to kiss her all over again, and this time, I won’t be able to tear myself away. I’m so close to getting what I want, I can’t fuck it up now.

“It’s Sunday.”

“I’m aware. Don’t be late.”

As I walk away, the pull to look back at her engulfs me. I glance over my shoulder. She’s staring at her feet, looking bemused and lost. Her vulnerability tugs at something in my gut, and no one is more surprised than me when I say, “You looked beautiful tonight, Imogen, but I think I prefer you like this.”

I stride away in case she says something that makes it impossible for me to leave.

I’ve already briefed the doctor on what to bring with him, but before Imogen arrives, I go over everything once more. He isn’t happy, but he wouldn’t dare to challenge me. This job is far too lucrative for him, and most people I know are happy to put their morals to one side if it means their bank account gets fatter.

She arrives at nine-thirty on the dot, her punctuality greeted with an arched brow from me, and a challenging stare from her. This morning’s attire—blue jeans and a short-sleeved T-shirt—is in stark contrast to last night’s outfit, but my dick doesn’t care. She’s scraped her red hair into a high ponytail, and she looks so young and innocent that at least a shred of guilt for what I’m about to do to her should pass through me, but it doesn’t.

“This is Doctor Carter. He’s going to administer the vaccinations this morning.”

Imogen simply nods. She takes the chair the doctor offers to her and waits for him to prepare the injections. His eyes seek mine as he swabs Imogen’s upper arm. I dip my chin once. He plunges in the needle. Other than a brief wince, she doesn’t react. He prepares the second and injects that, too.

“Your arm may feel sore for a day or two,” Carter explains once he’s done. “But other than that, you shouldn’t get any side effects.” He lifts his gaze to me. “If she does, call me.”

Imogen rubs her arm and stands. “Is that it?”

I nod. “You may go.”

She hesitates, then gives a small shake of her head. “Gee, thanks for your approval.”

When she’s gone, I close the door she left purposely open. “How long?”

---