Page 31 of The Reluctant Wife

James approaches the table wheeling a small cart with two Champagne flutes and a bucket of ice containing a bottle of my favorite drink. "I believe these bubbles that Ryot ordered will beto your liking, Your Majesty." He pops the cork and pours the fizzing liquid into both flutes before setting them on the table. He sets the bottle in the bucket and steps back. "Your starters will be out shortly."

"Thank you." She smiles at him.

James smiles back before nodding in my direction and heading back inside.

"A bit imperious of you to think you know my tastes?" She sniffs.

I merely reach for my flute and raise it.

She huffs, then raises her own. She takes a sip, and her gaze widens. She swirls the liquid over her tongue and swallows. "That’s…. Very good."

"I chose it especially for you."

She takes another sip and closes her eyes, savoring it before swallowing. "It’s fresh and crisp and there’s a hint of"—her eyebrows draw down—"of…"

"Honeysuckle, vanilla and strawberries," I offer.

It’s why I messaged James to choose this vintage.

"That’s right." She sips some more, then—in a very unladylike gesture which brings a smile to my face, and which I take as proof of her loving the Champagne I chose for her—she drains the rest of the glass.

"Can I have more?"

"After you eat your first course."

She narrows her eyes. "Are you now directing when I drink alcohol?"

"Only because you ate very little lunch, and I don’t want the alcohol to go to your head."

Her lips part. She looks both taken aback and turned on. With her flushed cheeks and flashing eyes, she’s a mixture of sass and hesitant need to accept that she likes being told what todo. And it’s such a fucking turn on. My cock thickens. My thigh muscles ripple.

On impulse, I reach over and place my hand on her free one. "You relish being told what to do."

Apparently, I can’t hold back this evening. When I decided to bring her out to dinner, my intention was to keep on the right side of the bodyguard/principal boundaries I set for myself. But hearing her whoop for joy and then feeling her arms clasped around my waist as she clung to me on the bike weakened my resolve.

I told myself this wasn’t a date, but who am I kidding?It’s definitely a date, given the lengths I went to, to find a place that's special yet secluded enough to be safe for her. Not to mention, calling in my years-old favor with James and asking him to cook us this meal. And when I saw the pleasure on her face as she took in the sight outside the window, my reservations melted away.I can’t be this close to her and not show her how well I can read her. There’s no harm if I tell her what I want to do to her, right? I could indulge myself, for just this evening, can’t I?

Her lips firm. She opens her mouth to speak, and I lean in and raise my finger to her lips. "Don’t deny it. Your heightened breathing and the way your pulse speeds up at your throat tells me you enjoy when you’re not given a choice."

The pulse at the base of her throat speeds up.

"Deep inside, you long to hand over the reins to someone more dominant. Someone who’ll help you relax into your own pleasure. Someone who’ll take care of you, and protect you, and punish you when you’re out of line. Someone who’ll tell you off when you test boundaries and put you in your place. Someone who’ll make you beg for what you most desire." Someone who I hope is me.

Her pupils dilate. She’s riveted by my words. Hanging onto every syllable. And fuck, if that doesn’t turn my cock into a raging column of steel.

She pinches her fingers around the stem of her Champagne glass and the skin stretches over her knuckles. "And I suppose that person is you?"

I incline my head, holding her gaze. The air between us crackles with unspoken need. Sparks seem to zing between us. The blood pounds at my temples, at my wrists, even in my fucking balls. A few more seconds, and I’m going to haul her to me, and kiss those soft lips of hers until she can’t think straight. But not yet.

Not ever.

Dammit. What the hell is the matter with me? Once more, I’ve forgotten myself in her presence. I need to…control myself better.I slide my palm from hers and lean back in my seat.

This was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have said anything to her. She’s tying me up in knots and confusing my train of thought. I’ve never been this...indecisive before. Never.Regret coils in my belly. I can taste the bitterness of remorse at the back of my tongue.

"It could have been”—I look away, then back at her—“if I hadn't taken this position of being your bodyguard."

Her gaze narrows. Confusion laces her features. I shouldn’t have overstepped the boundary I set for myself. I thought I could give her a feeling of being free; instead, I’m going to hurt her. And all because I can’t fucking hold onto my control when I'm with her.

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