Page 28 of Princess of Pride
“Boss—ee. Much?” I glower.
He hooks his finger under my chin and forces my head to tilt back. “We haven’t kissed. It needs to look like we’ve kissed before our first time in front of an audience.”
I swallow, my throat tight all of a sudden. “I figured we’d wing it seeing as neither of us are amateurs.”
His jaw muscle flexes. “From now on these lips will only ever touch mine.” He brushes his thumb across them. Before I can make sense of his possessive words or the shiver that whispers down my neck at his touch, his mouth is on mine.
Soft, full lips send me reeling with pressure that’s not forceful but not gentle. He kisses me like he owns me, like I’m his to do whatever he pleases, whenever he pleases. The hand that was at my chin slides to cup the back of my neck possessively. His other grabs my waist and tugs me against his hard body.
I gasp in surprise, and his tongue slips into my open mouth. His minty fresh taste drags me under, and the way he expertly strokes my tongue sets my pulse on fire. I moan as tingles shoot through my body, particularly to my core. At the same time, my muscles turn to mush, and dizziness washes over me. His hold on me tightens as he angles his head and kisses me deeper.
I grip his muscular biceps, afraid I’m falling. My entire equilibrium is off. Never have I been kissed like this. He has me pinned against him, showing me he’s in charge. My breath grows heavier by the second, and my corset squeezes tighter as if it wants to vomit my boobs out of my dress.
His tongue swipes and twirls, leaving me fogged with lust. The moment I fear I’m about to pass out, he pulls away, forcing me to grapple for control over my body and senses.
“Don’t let go,” I murmur, my eyelids heavy and barely open. If he lets me go, I’ll fall for sure.
Something that sounds like a chuckle vibrates from his chest. I can’t be sure. I’ve never heard him laugh, let alone seen him crack a smile.
“You can’t react like this at the altar.”
“You can’t kiss me like that then.” I fire back even in my weakened state. Goodness, one kiss, and I’m knocked on my ass. “Do all gay men kiss this good?”
The question is absurd, but I’m not in my right state of mind, high off a hormone influx like I’ve never known.
“Can you sit in this dress?” Lachlan asks, confusing me again.
“What?” I force my eyes open all the way. Now that my breathing is close to normal, I feel more like myself.
He hooks his hands under my arms and carries me the short distance to the bed, setting me on the edge of the mattress.
“Look at me,” he orders, and I do. “I won’t possess you the way I just did at the altar, but I will later tonight, and I don’t want you passing out in the process. Practice your breathing before then. I’m not waiting to claim you.”
I blink slowly at his gorgeous, profoundly serious face, certain I’m unconscious on the floor dreaming this. “Are you talking about sex?”
“I’m talking about fucking you the way I’ve wanted to since the first time I laid eyes on you and decided you’d be mine.”
Nothing he said makes sense to my befuddled brain. “But you’re gay.”
“No, Emery. I’m not.” He straightens, then his finger grazes my cheek. “Drink some orange juice; you look pale.”
With that, he leaves the room.
7
KISS ME LIKE YOU’RE MY BRIDE
He’s not gay? He’s not gay.
This is what races through my mind as my mom ushers me outside to stand next to my dad, who waits at the back of the rows of chairs.
This is what plays through my hazy brain as I walk down the aisle, am handed off to Lachlan, and recite the vows fed to me.
The ceremony is short. I’m unaware of everyone around me. I didn’t even hear the string quartet when I walked toward him. His face, blurry from my inability to blink, was my only focus—his face and the way he kissed me. Like a man with skill. Like a man who knows how to please a woman. A woman. Not a man.
He wants to claim me, he said. He’s wanted to since he first saw me. That was three years ago. I was barely eighteen. I don’t remember much about that day, but I remember seeinghim.
My parents hosted a dinner at the country club in one of the ballrooms, celebrating Lachlan as a new investor. I’d spotted him and lost all my senses before knowing who he was.All I saw was a gorgeous man who seemed too young to be talking to my father and his other investors. Everyone else was older, around my dad’s age or in their late thirties. Not him, though. He looked like a European model, and I wanted to meet him.
