Page 82 of Tarnished Queen

“Don’t come in!” I yelp.

The dress slipped on like a dream, but now that I’m trying to take it off, it’s like I’m in a straitjacket. I can barely get the damned thing down over my hips, and my heels keep getting caught in the layers of material.

I hear him just outside the door. “What are you doing?”

“Don’t come in!” I yell again. “I’m trying on my dress.”

I reach around and undo another button, which does the trick. The dress falls into a puddle at my feet just as my bedroom door opens.

“When did the wedding dress get—” Nikolai’s voice cuts off. When I turn to face him, I instantly understand why.

His eyes are black and moving over every inch of me. Like he’s trying to memorize this moment to come back to later.

There’s not a whole lot to memorize, though. Without the dress, I’m standing in front of him in a lacy thong and high heels. Nothing else.

“That’s not a wedding dress,” he rasps. The faintest ghost of a laugh shimmers on the edge of his voice.

I cross my arms over my chest, trying and failing to give myself some coverage. “I took it off. You’re not supposed to see me before the wedding.”

“Too late for that. I’m seeing all of you right now.”

My skin tingles under his watchful gaze. I’ve never been more aware of my body. “You’re not supposed to see me in the dress. I didn’t think you’d be home for a few more hours. I thought I was alone.”

He’s still in the doorway, covered from neck to ankles in a black button-down shirt and dark gray trousers. We make a compelling couple—him huge and clothed in darkness next to my pale, skinny near-nakedness.

He doesn’t say anything. I step slowly out of the center of the dress so I don’t trip on my heels. “Let me put the dress away, and we can—”

There’s a low groan behind me. “Belle. Fuck.”

I’m picking my dress up off the floor, confused about what Nikolai’s problem is, until I realize… I’m bent over. In a thong. In high heels.

I know exactly what his problem is: me.

“Oh I’m—I’m sorry,” I fumble, scrambling to make myself more decent. “I didn’t mean—”

But Nikolai’s hands are on me before I can get the words out. He grips my waist and pins me flat against the wall. “You didn’t mean to drive me absolutely fucking insane?”

His lips are on my neck and my collarbones. His hands rove over my curves, palming my breasts and grabbing handfuls of my exposed ass. He’s everywhere all at once, and all I can do is hold on and pray I survive the beautiful storm that’s coming.

“I didn’t mean to be naked. I just didn’t want you to see me in the dress. I told you not to come in.”

“I’ve never been more grateful I didn’t listen.” He runs his fingers along the inside of the band of my panties. “Are you going to wear these for the wedding?”

I shrug. “I was debating.”

“Between?”

“These,” I say, wriggling my hips against him, “or nothing.”

He groans again and brings our bodies flush together. I can feel the hard length of him through his pants. “Let’s test out both.”

In an instant, my thong is around my ankles. Nikolai steps back to admire me. Normally, I’d be self-conscious, but the heat in his gaze burns everything else away. I step out of the panties and kick them to the side with the toe of my heels.

“With them, without them… you can’t go wrong.” The man actually licks his lips as he moves towards me. “You look incredible either way. But I am a fan of the shoes.”

“Is that right?” At this height, I can hook my arms around his neck without even moving onto my tiptoes. I’m a fan of the shoes, too.

He hums his assent as we kiss. His tongue swirls against mine and he nips at my lower lip. “Big fan. In fact, I don’t think you should ever take them off.”

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