Page 50 of Malicious Wedding

“Are you okay?” I ask but freeze again as he starts stripping off his shirt. He tosses it into a laundry basket.

“I’m fine. Only tired.”

His body makes my heart race. Heat pools between my legs. His chest is muscular, his stomach rippled with abs, his shoulders like glaciers. He rolls his neck, grunting, and it’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Slowly, he starts to take off his pants.

“What are you doing?” I ask, freaking out, my nipples so stiff I’m sure he can see them.

“I need to shower. Like you said, I have blood on me.” He hesitates, glancing over. “Does that make you uncomfortable?”

“On so many levels. You shouldn’t be covered in blood, and you definitely shouldn’t strip in front of me.”

A little smile cracks through his bone-deep weariness. “That’s adorable, little angel.” His belt snaps off and his pants drop. “But you’re my wife. You should get used to seeing my body.”

Wow. Okay. My ovaries explode and I am officially dead.

He stands in only boxer briefs and socks. His cock’s half-hard, which is fucking bonkers, considering. I take a step back, blinking rapidly at the horrifying look on his face.

He’s grinning. He’senjoyingthis.

“I am definitely not getting used to that.” I turn my back on him. “We’re married, but come on, Carson. There need to be some boundaries.”

“I don’t like boundaries. They’re inconvenient.” His voice is horrifyingly close.

I shiver, turn around, but he’s not there. The bathroom door is open and the shower water starts to run.

I stand completely still, brain whirring as I try to think of what to do next.

Run back to the theater and hope he doesn’t find me. Crawl into bed, hide under the covers, pray I fall asleep before he comes out. Sprint screaming into the night.

All terrible options.

Instead, I let the blanket fall to the floor, raise my chin, and decide to play his stupid game.

I follow him into the bathroom.

Steam fogs the glass shower, but it doesn’t hide much. The form of his incredible masculine body drives a spike of desire deep into my core. I glance behind me, toward the bloody shirt, then back to where he’s slowly soaping himself, moving with a painful weariness.

“How bad was it?” I blurt out before I can stop myself. Curiosity’s getting the better of me.

He glances over. If he’s surprised to see me standing here, staring at his naked body, he doesn’t seem to mind. “It was a trying evening, but worthwhile.”

“What happened? Is Iain okay?”

“Iain’s the same.” His hands curl into fists. “Though I found out what he did to fuck everything up.”

I move toward him. “Tell me. Please.”

He leans back against the wall, closing his eyes. Water sprays onto his chest, rolling down in rivulets along his skin. It’s erotic, borderline pornographic, and I can’t look away.

He’s gorgeous. Strong legs, long, thick cock, still half hard which is just bonkers, with black tattoos etched on most of his skin, everywhere that would be covered by a suit. He lets out a long breath. “I’ll tell you if you come wash my back for me. I think I have some blood where I can’t reach it.”

I blink rapidly. “You want me to clean blood off you?”

“Unless you’d prefer it if I remained dirty. Some people are into that.”

“I’m definitely not one of them.” I shake my head. “I’m not getting in there.”

“I can keep my hands to myself.” He looks over, and for the first time today, a hint of softness slips into his expression. “Please, Ash.”

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