Page 23 of Antiletum
Val blinks once, a slow grin spreading across his mouth as he looks down at the garment fluttered to his empty plate. Dutifully waiting for me to dine with him.
So much for breakfast.
“Is this supposed to be a gift?” I hiss, my indignation nearly feeling pleasant. Freeing.
Being angry is a lot more appealing than succumbing to the quiet discomfort of being back here. Surrounded by countless people who I do not know but know aboutme.
“Well, this is a routine I could grow accustomed to.” Those long fingers hook into the flimsy underwear I threw to lift them to his nose. Val inhales softly. “Though it’d be better if you’d already worn them. Your scent is absolutely sublime.”
An involuntary memory crashes into me like an avalanche: the sight of my husband’s dark head, tucked between my thighs.
His arrogant black gaze slides all over my body; he not so subtly bites a ring on his bottom lip with a hunger that says he’d much rather be biting me—that he would love nothing more than to eat me alive.I get the inkling that maybe he’s remembering what it’s like for him to be lost between my legs too.
What indeosname happened to the quiet man who stayed lost in the shadows when I distanced myself from him?
My face is embarrassingly hot, the flame of blood under my cheeks scorching my skin.
Val inspects the blush fanning across my entire body with too much smug knowing. “What? Do you want to pretend you don’t know what I feel like inside of you,ocellus?” I can’t decide if I’m thrilled or horrified that we are, indeed, both recalling the intimacy of our wedding. That smirk somehow grows further. “Though I suppose you don’t. Not really.”
Shameless. He is completely shameless. Incorrigible.
Safe to say, Val doesnotintend to continue the gentlemanly act. And his insinuation…
I was supposed to come over here and give him a piece of my mind. Let him know that he can’t just tell me what to wear. Instead, I’ve barely said anything at all. Haven’t made any sort of point.
How unfair—the way Val so easily throws me completely off my axis with very little effort. In mere seconds, he has taken full control of this situation, not panning out at all as I had intended. Not in the slightest.
Outwardly, I ignore his boldness. “On top of demanding I eat with you every morning, are you now going to choose my clothing for me every day as well,husband?”
“I would certainly be delighted. If you’re not opposed.” Val rubs the soft silk underwear between his fingers. Slow and sensual. Staring at me with an intensity that is downright physical.
I wonder which he picked first: the black and silver dress or the matching underwear?
More indignant heat surges through my chest. I stomp across the room to snatch the panties I only just threw in his face out of his infuriating hands, but he pulls back before I can grab them.
“Obviously, I am opposed!”
Val wears his smugness proudly, holding my underwear behind his back with that long arm, out of reach unless I’m willing to climb on his lap. Honestly, I should have known it was only the beginning, allowing him to clothe me in that robe during our first demanded breakfast.
Horrible idea.
I’m not much too thrilled about my dear husband’s new habit of having me wake to his whims. After his silent patience, it’s been a bit of a jarring change. No slow bleed of understanding—not a nicked vein, emptying with a trickle. No. Just there one day and completely absent the next. A twig snapped in one fell swoop.
“Then I will see that a seamstress comes to you promptly, so you may choose your trousseau yourself. After today, of course. Can’t have that lovely willfulness of yours surfacing for the whole court to see. I’d rather that honor be reserved for only me. Preferably in the privacy of this very room.” A large hand sweeps through the air, gesturing towards a large bed across a sunken floor. Everything is justlarge.“I’d love nothing more than for you to put me in my place.” Val lifts my underwear. “This is a fantastic start.”
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Speakso… openly.”
“Why? You’re my wife. And there is nothing I desire more than having you back inourbed. Other than your regular company, of course. Your smile is the loveliest thing I’ve ever seen, and I am anxious to have it for myself daily.”
I gape at him, his ending statement has stirred something shoved so deep in the recesses of my soul, I’ve refused to look at it for years. But the more time I spend with Val, the more he coaxes these things out of their meticulously maintained box.
Rude.
Val is undeterred, meeting my gaze with rivaling determination.
