Page 42 of The Reluctant Wife

I sniff at the liquid in my palm. It’s dark and musky with a trace of cloves and cinnamon. It reminds me of how he smelled when he held me close and protected me from the assassin’s bullet with his body. It turns me on and makes me feel so very close to him. Like he’s right here in the shower with me. I lather up and run my fingers over my swollen nipples down my waist tomy tender ass. The touch sets off ripples of pain-pleasure which arrow to my core.

My pussy turns into a triangle of need. I slide my fingers inside my cunt and, supporting myself against the wall of the shower, I begin to masturbate.He said I can’t come onto him, but I can get off to thoughts of him, right?I imagine the water from the shower running down the ridge between his pecs, down to the trail of hair arrowing down to that magnificent specimen of manhood… Which I’d do anything to wrap my fingers around. Assuming my fingers could circle his cock, that is. Instantly, my inner walls clench.

Just thinking of his glorious cock sends tendrils of heat up my spine. I begin to pant and imagine him, with his thick fingers around the distended head of his cock, as he begins to stroke himself from root to head again and again. I see his thigh muscles bunching and the tendons of his forearms flexing as his shaft grows bigger and thicker, and I imagine him growling as he comes. It’s enough to send me over the edge. I push the knuckles of my free hand into my mouth as I follow him over the edge.

Jesus, this climax was nowhere as intense as the one I experienced when he spanked me, and nowhere as satisfying, but it's still better than the ones my formerly trusty vibrators bestowed on me.Gah.The man has spoiled me for self-induced climaxes. Another reason he’s the right person to be my first.

An arranged marriage to European royalty means there’s an unspoken expectation I’ll be a virgin. I’m determined that my first time will be with someone of my choosing.

And him? What about how angry and upset Ryot is going to be when he finds out about your upcoming nuptials?I’ll have to make him understand. Ihopehe’ll understand that it was my choice to give my virginity to him. What I feel for him is so powerful, I cannot even fathom giving it to anyone else.

As for Gavin finding out? Given the lack of chemistry between us, I doubt he’d even notice. And if he did, I’d explain it away with a vibrator.

A part of me is aware that this is not very princess-like behavior My mother would not be happy about my decision. But I’m confident she’d understand my need to create a few memories that are only for me.

I finish my shower, then dry off. Wearing the same bathrobe, I head back into the room. I want to defy him and not wear the clothes he left out for me, which would mean going down in the bathrobe, which feels too close to being naked. So, I swallow my pride, pull on the fresh underwear along with the jeans and the sweatshirt, which is incredibly soft.

I slide my phone into my pocket, then walk out and head down the stairs. The scent of coffee draws me to the kitchen.

I step in to find he’s standing at the stove. Good Lord, he’s wearing a pair of grey sweatpants pulled low. The material stretches across that tight backside and to his powerful thighs and makes me woozy.Maybe that’s because I’m hungry?Sadly, his chest is not bare. But he’s wearing a black T-shirt that’s been washed so often, it’s threadbare. Lucky me.

It stretches across the breadth of his shoulders and clings to the hard planes of his back before dipping in at his trim waist. My mouth begins to water. My fingers tingle. My mind is busy taking mental snapshots that I can add to my spank bank. And after the stunt he pulled by cancelling my appointments, that’s all I’m going to allow myself.

I take a couple of steps in his direction when he turns. His green eyes lock with mine. The impact is almost physical. I gasp and come to a standstill. My heart leaps into my throat. I’m unable to move. Unable to say anything. I simply take in his clean-shaven face and his wet hair, which he’s finger-combed back. An errant lock of hair has fallen over his forehead, and I sowant to go over and smooth it back. I swallow, trying to get a grip on myself.

His expression softens. "Good morning," he rumbles.

“’Morning,” I mumble.

He takes in my pink cheeks, but probably assumes it's due to the shower I just took, for he merely nods toward the table. "Have a seat."

I begin to shuffle over, then stop myself.How annoying that I’m tempted to obey him. How annoying that I want to please him.I push aside the instincts and glower back. "You cancelled my events?"

He tilts his head. I expect him to look guilty. Instead, he picks up the carafe of coffee and a cup. He walks over to the table and, placing the cup in front of me, he pours me some.

The bitter, aromatic scent of the liquid makes me almost cry with joy. He places a small jug of milk next to the cup, along with a bowl of sugar, then looks at me with polite curiosity. My gaze is drawn to the coffee, and I find myself edging toward it. When I reach the table, I can’t resist. I sink into the chair, pour in the milk, and add three spoonfuls of sugar to the coffee. I stir it, set the spoon down, then raise the cup to my mouth and take a sip. Rich. Sweet. Complex. Dark. I moan. "This is good." I take another sip, then look up to find him watching my mouth with hungry eyes.

"It’s my favorite coffee," he states.

"It’s very good." My voice breaks, and I have to clear my throat. He looks away, and I collapse back as if released from a tractor beam. Whoa, everything about this man is intense. And distracting. I frown. "You didn’t answer me."

"Was there a question?"

He turns back to the cooking range, and making a batter of the powdered eggs pours it into the skillet.

"You can cook?" I blurt out, then mentally smack myself.Nice, such a clever observation.

"I learned to cook so I could eat palatable food.”

The enticing smells of eggs and bacon frying wafts over, and my stomach rumbles. By the time I’ve finished my coffee, he’s placed a heaping plate in front of me and a twin in front of himself. I eye the scrambled eggs, accompanied by bacon, baked beans, a sausage, and hash browns.

The toaster oven dings. He heads over to it and returns with a plate of toasted whole wheat bread slices, which he places between us, next to the butter and jam which are already there. He ensures we have cutlery, then tops up our coffee cups before taking his seat.

"Eat up." He nods at my plate.

My stomach rumbles, but I tear my gaze away from the food and fix him with a glare. “I have a question.” I fold my arms across my chest. "Did you cancel my appointments for the day?"

"And for the next five days." He nods.

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