Page 38 of The Devil's Torment

I stare deep into her eyes, and when I say, “I am, yes,” I fucking mean it.

And no one is more surprised than me.

ChapterFourteen

VICKY

Dawn breaks the day after my wedding, the sky dark, gloomy, and filled with clouds ready to drop a torrent of rain onto the Surrey countryside. It’s a stark contrast to yesterday when the sun had shone from morning until night.

The weather isn’t the only thing that’s different. I’m different. I’m still reeling from the change in the man I thought I knew. The man I’ve been infatuated with for years despite him choosing Beth over me. The man I thought I hated when I blamed him for her death. The man sleeping beside me, dark eyelashes gracing his cheeks, the bedsheets tangled around his waist revealing his taut chest and extensive ink, which my fingers are dying to explore.

After he gave me a mind-blowing orgasm that I hadn’t thought my body capable of, I’d expected him to take his own pleasure. Instead, he’d held me, dried my tears (how embarrassing), pressed his lips to my forehead and left them there until I fell asleep.

I study him, unable to tear my gaze away. Who is this man I’ve married until death do us part? I expected a lot of things from my wedding night, but tenderness and compassion weren’t among them.

Gently, I ease back the covers and climb out of bed, swiping the nightdress someone had left out for me—that I never ended up wearing—off the chair. I pad across the thickly carpeted floor with a deep enough pile to sink my toes into it and slip into the bathroom. Once I’ve shut the door, I slide the nightdress on and plant both hands on either side of the sink. I stare at my reflection in the mirror and silently chant a few revelations from my wedding night.

I’m not broken.

I am capable of orgasm.

Matthew and Paul were the ones with the problem, not me.

Nicholas is a sex god.

Nicholas is apiercedsex god.

The door opens, and my eyes collide with Nicholas’s in the mirror. Unless I’m mistaken, a flash of relief crosses his face before he schools his expression. He’s utterly naked, and my gaze lowers. He’s half erect, the silver barbell visible in the crown of his penis. He said last night that it wouldn’t hurt to have that inside me, but I never got to test that theory. I wonder if I’ll get to test it today or if, after my uncharacteristic breakdown last night, he’ll think of me as some kind of sensitive, vulnerable woman who’ll need constant reassurance.

I’m not that woman. I’ve neverbeenthat woman. I’m tough, resilient.

He stalks across the tiled floor and comes up behind me, trapping me at the sink. Bracing his arms on either side of mine, he kisses the back of my neck.

“I thought you’d gone.” His voice is husky, still heavy with sleep.

“Where would I go? You’d set the hounds on me.” I smile to show I’m only half teasing, although the De Vils are proprietary bastards, so my joke isn’t all that far off the mark.

“No, I’d come looking for you myself.” He runs both hands over my ribcage before settling them on my hips. “I like this nightgown on you, although I’d like it more if it was on the floor.”

The shift in his behavior toward me is making my head spin. Whenever our paths crossed before he became engaged to Beth, he all but ignored me. After he got together with my sister, he was mildly irritated every time we came into contact, only speaking to me when he absolutely had no alternative. Then after we were told of our marriage, he became a little more tolerant. Perhaps resigned is a better term. Following the incident at the nightclub, he showed me his possessive, slightly unhinged side (yes, I saw the bruises on his knuckles in the days following and I guessed how he got them, too).

But this… the sensual, tender, downright sexy side… it’s a lot to take in. I keep waiting for the mask to crack.

A tell-tale flush creeps over my cheeks, and I lower my lashes to hide my eyes from him. Nicholas has this intensity about him that’s overwhelming at times, and with him standing behind me, his erection poking me in the back, he’s got me all of a dither. I need to keep my wits about me because if this man senses the slightest weakness, he’ll pounce. I’ve already gifted him a virtual breakdown over an orgasm—or lack of. He’s a dominant man, which is why he chose to marry Beth. But I’m not compliant like she was, and I don’t intend to start now.

Coarse fingertips brush hair away from my neck, and he drops kisses along the slope of my shoulder. When he reaches the thin, satin strap holding up my nightgown, he eases it down my arm, then repeats the move on the other side. The nightgown falls to the floor. He runs a hand over my right buttock.

“What did your previous lovers do or say to make you think you were broken?”

His question comes out of left field, and my eyes flare in surprise. “Nothing.” That’s not entirely true, but knowing this family like I do, I wouldn’t put it past Nicholas to have Matthew meet an unfortunate accident while reloading a gun during shooting practice.

Crack.

His palm lands on my arse. I yelp. “Ow! What’s that?—?”

Slap.

I squeal and try to twist out of his grip, but he’s positioned me in such a way to make that impossible, especially against his superior strength.

---