Page 15 of His Innocent Unwrapped In Iceland

A nightgown for a wedding night.

He found himself staring at it. She had been going to wear that for Gianni...

She could wear it for you.

Heat burst through him, so intense he had to grit his teeth as she brushed past him on her way into the room, engulfing him in her sweet scent. Then she, too, stopped, staring at the nightgown. A fierce blush stained her cheeks. She darted forward and snatched the sheer bit of nothing from the bed. ‘Obviously I’m not going to wear that,’ she muttered.

Orion was conscious that the best thing for both of them was to let her have her shower and get changed. Now that he had her here, there was no rush for anything more quite yet.

Instead, he leaned against the doorframe and said, ‘Oh? Why not?’

She didn’t look at him, moving over to the bags at the foot of her bed and dumping the nightgown into one of them. ‘Because it’s for my wedding night and I’d hardly call this an actual wedding night.’

He watched her, swathed in her damp gown, the ends of her shawl trailing, soft golden curls coming down from her wilting up-do. Not at all the polished bride she’d been in the church, but a more rumpled, sexier and altogether more touchable version of her.

‘I can give you one, though,’ he said, very unwisely. ‘If you want one.’

CHAPTER FOUR

ISLASTILLED.HISVOICEwas soft and very dark and not at all cold. Not this time.

Her heartbeat had accelerated and her cheeks felt hot, the embarrassment at having that ridiculous nightgown spread out on the bed so blatantly lingering.

She’d bought it for herself in a fit of optimism, because despite her misgivings, she thought she should have something sexy and beautiful to wear for her wedding night. Something that her new husband would enjoy too, though she’d expected Gianni to be that husband.

Not Orion North.

She was very conscious of him leaning in the doorway, one shoulder hitched against the doorframe, his gaze on hers. She could still feel the hard warmth of his chest as she’d lain against it on the walk from the helicopter into the lodge.

Being carried by him was the last thing she wanted, especially after those kisses, but he hadn’t given her a choice. Yet the worst thing had been that once she’d found herself in his arms, she hadn’t wanted to leave them. He’d been so very warm and the night had been so cold, and he’d smelled good, that dark, spicy scent of his surrounding her. And all she’d been able to think about was how delicious he’d tasted on the jet and how she wanted more.

You want more than his kiss.

She stared down at the nightgown she’d dropped into the bag at her feet. Her wedding dress felt damp and despite the room’s warmth, she was shivering. But it wasn’t all due to the cold.

Slowly, she turned to look at him.

He hadn’t moved, his tall, powerful figure utterly still. But the glow in his wolf’s eyes stole her breath. He’d looked at her that way back in the church and then just as he was about to kiss her in front of the altar.

He wants you.

A shiver stole through her.

‘Well?’ he prompted softly.

‘A wedding night,’ she said. ‘Is that for me or for yourself?’

His eyes glinted. ‘A very astute question. Let’s just say I wouldn’t be unmoved by it.’

Her mouth felt dry. He was like this in the boardroom meetings she’d been in with him, his posture relaxed, his tone casual. He was a master gambler with a true poker face, never letting a hint of his true thoughts or feelings escape.

A panther lying in wait. A wolf stalking his prey.

He was stalking her now; she could feel it.

That electricity was back as it always was whenever she was near him, humming and crackling over her skin. Maddening, relentless and also wildly exciting.

Why not a wedding night with him? What would you have to lose? Perhaps if you sleep with him, this feeling will finally leave you alone.

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