Page 202 of Modern Romance January 2025 1-4

Her pout curved. ‘Intriguing, don’t you think? She’s desperate to escape.’

‘Boring. Flip it—why not a runaway groom?’

‘Would he be such a coward?’ She stared into his eyes.

Ramon had the feeling he should be running away right now. His want for her was insanely intense. ‘Why is it okay forherto run away?’ he pointed out tensely. ‘Why wouldn’t she stay and fight for her man?’

‘Maybe it’s not a marriage she actually wants.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Who generally has the power or control in a relationship? Statistics suggest it isn’t the bride. Sometimes the only way out is to escape. It’s quickest, easiest. Safest.’

‘Okay,’ he said softly, quelling the sharp ache in his ribs that her words engendered. ‘Talk me through what you have so far.’

He listened as she outlined the full ‘scenario’—the few props and tricks she’d already had—then began throwing outrageous suggestions at her because he needed to lighten the mood. She swiftly matched him. They debated the merits of virtual reality and of incorporating light projections into the room.

‘What if they have to evade noxious gas—you could have fun with dry ice. They’d have to put on masks. It would be fully immersive. People love wholly immersive.’

‘Do they?’ She laughed. ‘You’ll be suggesting dive tanks and flood rooms next.’

The hours literally flew by. By the time they landed, Elodie had scribbled several pages of notes while Ramon had laughed more than he had in the last decade. Which made him sober up the second he realised it.

‘You’re very creative, Ms Wallace,’ he said softly.

She wriggled her ring-clad fingers at him. ‘Not Ms anymore.’

No. She was his wilful wife, and he was damn well having his wedding night.

CHAPTER EIGHT

ELODIESTEPPEDINTOthe house and heard Ramon close the door behind them. The conversation that had bubbled so easily between them for hours on the flight had evaporated and she felt so awkward that even breathing seemed difficult and unnatural. Energy, adrenaline, anticipation all coursed through her, rendering her uncoordinated. But they were finally here and now it would happen. Only she didn’t know how to start. Should she undress? Only he’d said he wanted to do that. Should she walk straight to his room? Only she didn’t actually know which one that was. She was so skittish she stumbled on her high-heel sandals. Only he must’ve been right behind her because he caught her and swung her into his arms.

‘Nicely done,’ he murmured sardonically and tossed her lightly to pull her closer.

‘You think I tripped deliberately?’ She wished shehadthought of it because she was appallingly happy to be pressed against him like this.

‘I think you’re very good at playing your part.’ He walked swiftly down the corridor.

‘Right. This isn’t real,’ she reminded her thudding heart with a breathless murmur.

‘And yet.’ He set her down on her feet. ‘This is the only wedding night I’ll ever have.’

‘You really don’t want to fall in love? Marry again later—for life?’

‘No.’ A smile curled his lips. ‘So indulge me in the fantasy of tonight.’

‘You’re into role-play.’

‘And you’re not?’ His humour flashed.

More than he would ever know. But she had no idea how to fake worldliness in this moment.

‘This is so elegant.’ He tracked a finger along the neckline of her silk slip dress. ‘As for that diamond collar. As foryou...’

Her heart was going to beat right out of her chest any moment. She couldn’t take her gaze off him as he tangled his fingers in her hair and tilted her head back. She arched towards him. He liked her dress. Her necklace. He wantedher. Which was such an immense relief because he wasallshe wanted.

‘Feels like I’ve been waiting forever for this. Going to take you apart, Elodie,’ he swore. ‘Going to make you come harder than you’ve ever come in your life.’

‘Get on with it then,’ she breathed. ‘Enough talking.’

But she stilled as that anticipation paralysed her. He was overwhelming and she really didn’t know where to begin. There was a curious smile in his eyes as he studied her. Next moment he lifted her onto the bed. A haze enveloped her as he stood above her. She wanted to touch him but couldn’t reach, couldn’t find the strength to do anything but moan. Her fingers fluttered. Then she couldn’t do anything as he caressed her. His fingers trailed all over her until her hips lifted through no choice of her own. She rippled, undulating on the bed, meeting his tender, teasing strokes. So easily he made her a mindless creature who craved anything he cared to give her—from the lightest kisses, to the briefest of touches. When even this—the mere play of his skilled hand—destroyed her. He didn’t even have tokissher to have her so completely his.

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