Chapter 15 #2
I'll lean an inch away, and his lips brush my temple. Then he'll reposition his hand on me, controlling every sensation I have.
By the time the wheels touch down, my chest rises and falls too quickly, and every muscle in my body is strung tight with hypersensitive awareness.
The moment the door opens, a rush of cold Chicago air fills my lungs. I step into it gratefully, trying to recenter my mind.
Sean's driver waits beside the SUV, holding the door open. Sean and Zara slide in first, muttering about immediate calls they need to make.
When the car stops at my building minutes later, I reach for the door handle. "I'll see you tomorrow," I announce, needing distance from Brax's relentless heat.
I step out.
Brax steps out right behind me.
I turn sharply. "What are you doing?"
He shuts the door with his forearm, gives me a look dripping with sarcasm. "Funny, Minx." Before I can argue, he takes my hand and leads me through the glass doors of my building as if I'm not perfectly capable of entering without assistance.
The elevator opens with a soft ding, and he pulls me inside. We ascend in charged silence, the tension thick enough to compress the small space.
The second my door clicks shut behind us, Brax's hands grasp my hips. My back hits the wall, and he cages his body against mine, crowding every inch of air between us. His face hovers so close his breath taunts my lips. "I don't think you realized what you've gotten yourself into, Minx."
I press my palm against his chest, the steady rise and fall under my hand warning that he's seconds from losing whatever restraint he boarded the plane with. "Don't be mad."
The sound he releases is a low, dangerous grumble. "Don't be mad?" His palm slides higher on my hip, and his chest expands beneath my touch. "You decide to get engaged to me in front of the king and queen, lock us into a full-moon wedding, and you tell me not to be mad?"
I draw in a careful breath. "We're getting seats on the Royal Council."
His nostrils flare. He asks a sharp, dynamite-laced question. "This is what you want?" His eyes search mine with an urgency that steals the next breath straight out of my lungs.
My stomach tightens. I meekly insist, "Yes, I want my seat."
He steps in closer, the hard planes of his torso pressing me deeper into the wall. "I'm not talking about that, Minx, and you know it."
My pulse jumps under my skin. I swallow, repeating, "I want my rightful seat."
He shakes his head, jaw tight, eyes locked on mine with relentless precision. "At least state the truth."
I shift under him, caught between instinct and desire, power and surrender. His gaze sharpens even more, the kind of focus that warns he won't back off until he drags the truth from me.
My voice thins. "Don't twist things."
He brings his hand to my jaw and tilts my face up toward him. His thumb presses against my chin, steady and commanding. "Admit you want me."
Heat tumbles through my body in a rush that forces my spine to arc against the wall. My breath stutters, and my hand tightens against his chest.
His eyes narrow. "Say it, Minx."
My voice cracks. "I want you."
His mouth consumes mine with a hunger sharpened by hours of denial. His fingers dig into my hips, then slide lower, lifting me effortlessly until my legs wrap around his waist. He moves me through my apartment, his kiss dragging deeper, rougher, and stealing every bit of air inside my lungs.
A low sound vibrates in his chest, reverberating through my own, and his hand grips my head, holding me so I can't retreat from his mouth.
Not that I would.
He pushes open my bedroom door with his shoulder. His hand moves from my head to my zipper and tugs. He drops me onto the mattress and yanks my dress and panties off my body.
His gaze sweeps over me with a promise. He removes his clothes and kisses his way up my legs, teasing my pussy, then continuing upward till his lips are against my knotted skin.
I grip his hair to pull his face to mine, but he won't bypass the scar.
His lips and tongue coax it, exploring the V as if it's something to be cherished instead of hated.
"Brax," I mumble.
His mouth moves to my nipple, and he nips at it.
I sharply inhale.
He tastes each one, then moves to my collarbone, continuing his journey until his forehead presses against mine. He pins me beneath his body, taunts my clit with his cock, and asserts in a warning, "Eternity's a long time, Valentina Abruzzo."
My ragged breath shakes with my lip. I keep my gaze locked on his, spreading my legs open.
He shifts his hips, teasing me further. Through clenched teeth, he adds, "I should leave you here wet and hungry for me." He shifts faster.
I whimper, mouth open.
He tilts his head slightly, narrowing his gaze.
I grip my nails into his shoulder blades and roll my hips with his, daring, "You won't."
"No?" he asks, eyebrows arched, face reddening.
I reach for his ass, lift my hips, and push him inside me. "No," I get out before I moan.
A loud, guttural sound escapes him. He holds still, deep inside me, his gaze turning to dark fire. He grits out, "From here on out, I call the shots."
I hold my breath, my pulse racing for new reasons.
He thrusts slowly, his lips curling, and adds, "Still want to marry me?"
His warm skin stirs every lodged-up sensation I tried to kill over the plane flight home.
My eyes flutter open and shut.
"Answer me," he orders, keeping the same excruciating pace.
"Yes," I choke out, gripping his ass cheek tighter.
"Who's in charge in this marriage?" he demands.
I stay silent, trying to get him to thrust faster.
"Who!" he barks, not giving in to my wishes.
"Please," I get out.
"Tell me!" He thrusts fast several times.
My vision turns white.
He slows it down.
I dig my nails into his ass, warning, "Don't!"
"If you want any more of me, you're going to tell me who's in charge, Valentina!" He pulls back with the tip of his cock brushing my entrance.
I push on his ass, but he doesn't move any closer.
"Tell me. If you want me to vow my life to you, then you tell me, Minx," he orders.
My chest thumps harder. The tension crackles against my skin. I cave. "You're in charge!"
"Fucking right I am," he says, then slides back inside me. He grits his teeth and thrusts hard, pinning his dark gaze on me.
Everything explodes into chaotic relief. I convulse against him, arching my back, gripping him tighter.
He lowers his mouth to my ear, warning, "You want me, well, you're going to get me. All of me, Minx."
"Yes," I breathe, with adrenaline intensifying.
He thrusts harder. His sweat trickles against my cheek. A low groan rumbles in his chest, and his cock swells, then a fresh wave of warmth fills me.
He doesn't let up. He pushes through it, his body vibrating against mine, until there's nothing left. Then he collapses over me, his breath on the curve of my neck and the weight of his body pressing over me.
It takes forever until my tremors slow. I finally unclutch my arms from around him.
He lifts his face inches from mine. Darkness swirls in his expression. He reiterates, "I mean it, Minx. From here on out, I'm in charge."
I swallow hard, trying to squash the fear rising in me. No one's ever been in charge of me. I take care of myself.
As if he can read my mind, he brushes a lock of hair off my cheek. He asserts, "Don't worry. You'll get used to it." He rolls over, tugs me into him, and kisses the top of my head.
Part of me wants to shove him away and reclaim the space he swallowed so easily. But the deeper part, the one I've never acknowledged, stirs under the quiet dominance in his voice.
His arm tightens around me, anchoring me in a way I don't know how to process. The steady beat of his heart thrums against my ear, a silent command I didn't realize I was already obeying.
Then it hits me why I'm not fighting him. It doesn't have anything to do with his agreement to marry me so I can get my seat.
Brax feels like protection.
It's everything I'm not used to but suddenly don't want to end.