Page 21 of His Little Spitfire

That makes him growl, causing a shiver to rack through my body. Suddenly, his hand is against my ass with a slap hard enough to cause a light sting.

The darkness is back in his eyes, fueled by untamed hunger. I guess this little moment of control is over.

When my back hits the mattress, and he’s collected my wrists, pressing them above my head, I know I’ve said the right words.

Curling under his gaze, my smile grows as his scowl does the same.

Aren’t honeymoons supposed to follow weddings? Seeing as I’m not going to have a big wedding or anything of the sort, I might as well try to skirt along the line of tradition.

Even if it takes all night, we’re going to both accept this union one way or another.

As scary as the realization is, I can’t lie. I’m more than halfway there.

He doesn’t shove my thighs apart and split me open with his cock like I expect him to. Rather, he pulls away. Still within my reach, his eyes travel across my front. Taking me in one inch at a time, I can see the hunger dancing around in his eyes.

“You need rest. Time to heal and adjust,” he murmurs as he brushes my kneecap with his fingertips. Turns out, he can have a gentle touch if he tries hard enough.

I don’t want to sleep. What happens if I wake up and all this is some kind of heated fantasy? What happens then?

“Stay here.” Giving the order, he lifts off of the bed and heads over in the direction of the bathroom. Returning with a cloth, he cleans my hands and wrists. Erasing all evidence from this, he hovers once he’s finished.

We’re both hovering over strange territory. I think he’s feeling just as lost as I am. Does he feel as vulnerable?

Where in the world do we go from here? Am I meant to act like the wife I am and stay by his side? Will each day get any easier than the last?

This guy is all about power and control, and I know tonight is just a slip of weakness. What kind of man will I wake up to in the morning?

Will he be an asshole who demands I listen to his words like they’re the law, or will he touch me as gently as he does with the washcloth?

Catching himself getting lost in his stare, he turns and disappears long enough to ditch the cloth. Once he returns, he slides back onto the bed. At first, he keeps his distance. As if he doesn’t know what to do with himself, he turns off the light, leaving us in darkness.

What do I want him to do? Do I want distance?

With conflict clashing around in my chest, I shift close to him to soak in his warmth. Settling my cheek against his chest, I hear the rhythmic thump of his heart. Guess he has one, after all.

Just tonight, I’ll be a little weak with him. When tomorrow comes, we can figure out how we both want to act when the time comes.

From the way his arm securely wraps around my back, keeping me in place, I can see he silently agrees.

* * *

When I wake up, I expect it to be because of Urzo snoring in my ear. Instead, it’s a light knock against the door. Too light to be from any of these brutes.

The sun is already high in the sky, and I squint at his alarm clock. It’s way into the afternoon at this point.

“Ignore them.” Sleep laced around his voice, Urzo doesn’t loosen his hold. In fact, I think he tightens his arm. When I dig my nails into his arm, he growls.

If it weren’t for another knock, my pussy might be happy to accept his tone.

“It’s Camellia,” I tell him, huffing. “Release me before I shove an elbow into your face.”

I won’t actually, not with the swelling of his nose. But still, my threat works and he sighs as he rolls onto his side.

He looks… good. I haven’t bothered myself to get a better look at him. Now that the opportunity has come, my sister is getting in the way.

I love my sister, I do. I won’t let her persistence annoy me.

Instead of taking in his scarred golden skin, or his restful expression, I crawl off the bed and make my way over to the door.

---