Page 22 of The Pakhan's Forced Bride
“Fuck them. They can want what they want. I have a personal preference for a woman with curves. Each person is attracted to what they’re attracted to, but that doesn’t give them the right to belittle someone who doesn’t fit their requirements of beauty. So, fuck them. And I’m pretty damn sure that not one of those men would have been able to handle you the way you deserve to be handled,” I smirk.
Her cheeks flush bright pink, and she presses her heart-shaped lips together as she looks down at her plate, pretending to be focused on her food.
But I keep watching, and her lips curl into a soft smile, her cheeks still rose pink.
What starts out as a tense dinner conversation slowly evolves into relaxed banter. She doesn’t miss a beat when it comes to teasing me about anything at all, and when I tease her back, she seems to take it well.
Desert is a salted caramel tart on a bed of crushed Biscoff biscuits with white chocolate sauce dripped over it.
And Belle’s enjoyment makes it ten times better than it’s ever been.
I watch her lips as they wrap around the dessert spoon as she slowly pulls it from her mouth. My cock stirs beneath the table.
She closes her eyes as she takes the first bite, letting it melt in her mouth for a moment. A soft moan escapes her as she swallows and licks her lips. Fuck. She’s driving me crazy.
By the end of dessert, I’m on the edge of self-control, wanting to drag her over this table and have my way with her right here.
Dinner ends, and I walk her to her room.
She’s smiling and talking happily about Rio’s cooking, asking me what he’s making tomorrow night.
“What do you want him to make tomorrow night? What’s your favorite food?” I ask.
“It’s so hard to pick just one. But I’ve been craving seafood curry.”
“Then he will be making seafood curry,” I grin.
She turns her face away, almost shy, as we reach her bedroom door.
I can’t hide the mischievous smile on my face as I press my hand above the doorframe and look down at her.
Beautiful. Dangerously beautiful.
“You could join me in my bed tonight, Belle,” I tease.
Her lips part ever so slightly, and she takes in a soft breath. I watch her eyes flare with desire as she glances over me. She bites her lower lip, narrowing her eyes at me.
“Keep dreaming about it, Ard,” she says with confident sass, then slams the door in my face.
I burst out laughing, stepping back, lucky I wasn’t leaning further into the doorway or my nose might be stinging right about now.
Fuck. She’s a tease.
Chapter 7 - Belle
I’ve discovered that Ardaliondoeshave a sense of humor. It’s dark and dry, but hilarious. Every time we eat dinner together, which I’ve started to enjoy, I learn a little more about him, and I might even be starting to like his company.
It turns out there’s more to him than the grumpy, non-smiling asshole I first met. The problem is that now, when he does smile—and he smiles often—I’m even more drawn to him.
Ardalion is working from home today upstairs in his office. I’m lazing about in the sunshine filtering through the wide windows of the living room as I sprawl out on the sofa, reading a book. I’m lying on my back, and my legs are draped over the backrest. My hair is spilling over the edge of the sofa and down to the floor. I’m more relaxed than I’ve been in a long time. Lately, I’ve been comfortable here. No longer constantly bickering with him, it's starting to feel familiar and safe.
This place is beautiful—the views are, too, and I love it here—but I really want to get out and see LA. In one of his business magazines, I saw a review of a restaurant that I’m dying to go to. I decided that today I’ll ask him to take me for lunch there. He can come with me. That way, he won’t have to worry about me running off or misbehaving. I want to explore, and I really hope he’s going to say yes.
We’ve been getting on so well lately, I don’t see any reason why he wouldn’t.
I’ve been trying not to interrupt his work, but I’m also excited to ask him about lunch. I’m getting impatient.
Finally, just a few minutes past eleven, I drop the book onto the glass coffee table and slide off the couch, stretching lavishly as I do so.
