Page 29 of The Reluctant Wife

He scans my features. “You wanted to get ice cream from a fast-food chain when you could have asked for one from any gourmet restaurant or brand, but you didn’t.”

“So?” I frown.

“Then, there’s the fact that you love driving your own car because it gives you a feeling of being free.” He shrugs. “It wasn’t a stretch to conclude that you’d love being on a bike.” Something in his eyes makes my heart skip a beat.

He was paying attention to me. He noticed my quirks and my reactions. He spent time thinking about what I’d like to do. He might have offered to get me out of the hotel because of pity and, perhaps, a sense of responsibility to keep me, as his principal,entertained—enough so I’d be more amenable to toeing the line with his security measures.

But offering to take me on his bike? That...is something he planned for.

A boatload of emotions squishes inside my chest. I stand there, staring at him dumbly, unable to move.What does this mean? Does it meananything? Am I reading too much into his gesture?

"Get on, Princess. I know you want to."Was that supposed to sound so suggestive?He hits the ignition, and the bike roars to life. The sound throbs through my veins and settles in my bones; it shoots a burst of excitement up my spine.Damn. He’s actually going to take me for a ride?My heart feels like it’s going to burst out of my ribcage. I’m pathetically happy, and that gives me pause. Also, I want to put up a token protest, so he doesn’t think I’m going to obey everything he says—even though that’s probably the truth.

"Why can’t I drive the bike?” I tip up my chin. “Why do I have to sit behind you?”

"Because it’s my bike?" He revs the bike again. "Coming or not?" I move toward the bike, and he guns it forward.

I stumble back. "What the hell?"

He smirks. "Sorry about that."

He doesn’t sound sorry, at all.Asshole.I gauge the distance toward the bike, then take a step toward it. Once again, he allows the bike to jump forward.

"Ryot, what are you doing?" I slap my hands on my hips and glower at him.

He laughs. It's a full-throated, very manly laugh that has me looking at him in amazement. This playful side of him is one I have not seen before. Is this how he was before he became a Marine. Before he lost his wife? Was he this carefree? This spirited… This roguish?Oh god. He’s so damn sexy like this.Also, my pussy is now completely wet. I wish I could feel the vibrations from that laugh between my legs. I bet I’d come just from that sensation. Also, why can’t I stop thinking of his head between my thighs? And this when he’s treated me so…so…normally? He doesn’t give a shit that I’m a princess. He’s not polite around me. He doesn’t hold himself in check. He speaks his mind. He tells me what to do. He tells me off. He reprimands me. Chastises me. Cajoles me into doing exactly what he wants. And…I love it.

Butterflies take flight in my chest. I close the distance to his bike and straddle the seat behind him.

"Hold on. And make sure you lean into the turns when I do." He reaches behind to grab the back of my thigh and pulls me snug against him. I’m now hugging his thighs with mine. And my core is flush against his very tight, very hard backside. I lock my arms about his waist. His lean, sculpted waist; I can feel his chiseled abs through the leather of his jacket. Then he guns his bike, and it leaps forward.

With a squeak, I tighten my hold about him. I sense him chuckle again. And when he slides onto the road and races forward, exhilaration bubbles in my blood. Cole zooms off ahead of us on another bike, and Brian keeps pace behind us on his.

We might be on bikes, but he’s keeping his security formation. I can’t help but be impressed. He’s not going to compromise my safety, even now. We weave through traffic. When we get on the highway, he guns the bike forward. I whoop. The freedom. The thrill. The edge. The brush with danger that being on the bike brings spikes my blood with adrenaline.I’m out of that hotel room. I’m free.Ryot zips past a few cars, then a truck, and exhilaration bubbles up my throat. I’m on a bike, and no one passing by knows I’m the Princess of Verenza. I’m just another girl holding my man tightly as we head out to who-knows-where.

I cling to him, allowing myself to relax so my body flows with his. We ride for about half an hour, then he takes the next turn off, and my body leans into the turn with his. We continue down another road, then emerge onto one that skirts the Thames. In the distance, I can see Tower Bridge, or London Bridge, as it is wrongly called by tourists.

He slows down as we near it, but instead of stopping in front of it, he turns into a side road. A few more minutes, and he pulls up in front of a doorway. He switches off the engine and kicks down the stand. I jump off without waiting for him and notice that Cole has already parked his bike to the side. He walks over to stand by the doorway. Brian comes to a stop a few feet behind us. He dismounts and walks past Cole, then through the doorway.

I'm about to follow him, but Ryot stops me with a touch on my elbow. "Let him make sure it’s safe."

Pinpricks of awareness course out from the point of contact. I pull away, studying the quiet street. It seems to be residential with overhanging trees. There are a few cars parked up the road, but other than that, there's no one around.

Why did he bring me here? It doesn’t look like the entrance to a restaurant. Some of my excitement fizzles away. I thought he was bringing me somewhere special, but this looks like an ordinary London house. My shoulders droop. Disappointment coils in my belly, but I shake it off. At least, I’m not eating dinner from room service while watching TV. That has to count for something, right? I’m outside. I just rode on a motorcycle with my body wrapped around Ryot's!

I take a deep breath, relishing the fresh air, so different from the recycled hotel air I’ve been breathing over the last week.

Before I can ask Ryot where he’s taking me, Brian walks out of the doorway and nods. He holds the door open, and Ryot indicates I should move forward.

I step into the hallway and realize the space is bigger than it seemed from the outside. There’s a winding staircase that leads up to a landing, and above that is a roof with skylights set into it. He brushes past me and walks up the staircase. "Careful, the steps are a little steep," he warns.

I follow him, trying to keep my eyes off his butt and failing. Bet he stares at mine when I walk in front of him, too. I’ve felt his eyes on me. I push that thought away. I follow Ryot onto the landing on the second floor and through the short hallway through what seems to be the door to an apartment.

When I step in, my breath catches. Itisan apartment… But there's no furniture. Except for a table set for two with a candle in the center and two chairs, both angled toward a stunning view. And what a view it is! Massive floor-to-ceiling windows frame a view of the Thames and the beautifully lit Tower Bridge in all its glory.

"Wow." I hook my jacket on the coat rack and deposit my purse on the entryway table. Then walk past Ryot toward the window. I come to a stop next to the table and take in the sight of the iconic landmark. My breath catches.

Ryot—who’s also taken off his jacket—walks up to stand next to me. For a few seconds, we gaze at the monument.

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