Page 54 of Princess of Pride
I give him no reaction, just keep my gaze on the scenery out the window.
“It has a topiary garden.”
I’ve never seen one, and while my interest is piqued—are they all different shapes or uniform?—I give him nothing.
“It has an orangery.” His sexy tone implies he knows how much I love reading in the one at home.
My knee-jerk reaction is to ask him how he knows this, but I suspect he said it to get me to react. As for him knowing this about me, he admitted to researching hisfuture wife—whatever that involved, which feels invasive. How much does he know about me?
Again, I won’t ask him, even though I’m dying to. An orangery at the castle sounds like the perfect escape during my prison sentence.
“Does it have orange trees?” I ask, doubting it does. Nowadays, most are used as sunrooms and have minimal plant life. If he says no, I’ll make sure to tell him the trees held the most appeal for me.
“It does,” he says with smugness.
At least there will be something familiar that I love. I bite my inner lip to keep my delight from showing on my face and act unimpressed.
“I’d like to fuck you in it,” he murmurs.
My eyes widen and my jaw drops, the reaction unstoppable. Now I’m imagining this foul-mouthed man doing thingsto me in the orangery. It’smyorangery. I haven’t seen his yet so I can’t conjure those images, but I can imagine his lips on mine, making me lightheaded while his expert tongue drinks me in. His muscular body, warm and hard against mine as he holds me possessively and does things to me that I’ve dreamed about but haven’t been able to experience.
It’s not him causing me to feel this way.
It might be him.
More likely, it’s the sexual neglect I suffered for years that makes me want to hump the nearest attractive man like a poodle in heat—which happens to be him.
“You can’t say those things to me,” I murmur, hoping he doesn’t notice how breathy my voice sounds.
“Why not?” He leans his head toward my ear. “Why can’t I tell you what I want to do to you? You’re my wife. I don’t want it with anyone else.”
I swallow and fail to control my shallower breathing—not that I could hide it with the now faster pace of the rise and fall of my breasts.
“That’s a lovely shade of pink on your cheeks,” he purrs, and wetness pools between my legs. His voice is like an aphrodisiac.
I shift in my seat and my core clenches, letting me know it’s desperate for what he wants to give me. I must be certifiable to want him. His wife or not, he basically kidnapped me from my homeland to his country. That’s a crime.
He leans closer, his breath heating my ear. “I think you like when I talk dirty to you. I think you want me to ease your discomfort.”
I do! I paste on a sweet smile and meet his eyes, which are extremely close to mine. “It’s not you. My butt’s asleep. I’m just trying to get more comfortable.”
For long seconds, his face is frozen like I spoke to him in analien language. Then the most magical, incredible thing happens. Something that will alter the way I look and feel about him forever.
Lachlan smiles.
At first, it’s a slow lift at the corners of his mouth, then his lips part and a row of straight white teeth appear in a smile that should be illegal. A smile that takes the hard lines of his chiseled features and softens them, showing he’s indeed a human. An insanely gorgeous human who looks younger and so beautiful when he smiles that my organs stop functioning and I die for a moment.
I can’t look away. I don’t want to. I want to see him smile like this all the time. I’d do whatever he wanted—maybe—if he did. I’ve never seen such a transformation. And now that I have, I can never unsee it. I’ll remember this expression: the brightness of those aqua eyes. The crinkles at the corners. How his lips curve with the perfect shape, and how the pink color stands out against his pearly teeth and warm toned skin. This is not the Lachlan I know. This is a man who enjoys life, could stop hearts, cause traffic jams, rival the glittering lights of the Eiffel tower at night, even rival the sun and moon when they’re at their brightest, showing off the way they sometimes do.
“Don’t stop,” I whisper in awe, my gaze all over his face, committing his expression to memory.
As if he realizes he’s smiling or having fun or both, that stern mask slides over his face erasing all traces of the mesmerizing man I just saw.
“Lachlan…” I turn on the seat to face him, giving him a playful grin. “You’re human.” And beautiful. I keep that comment to myself. He doesn’t need the ego boost.
More than his words, or maybe just as much, that smile turned on the heat switch in my body and made me want to open the welcome door. Unable to resist, I rest my hands on theleather seat, my boobs squished between my straight arms, and lean toward him, biting my lower lip.
His gaze zeroes in on my mouth then lowers to my cleavage before trailing back up to my face. I might as well be holding up a blinking sign that saysfeast on me however you like.
