Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
VICKY
Dawn breaks the day after my wedding, the sky dark, gloomy, and filled with clouds ready to drop a torrent of rain onto the Surrey countryside. It’s a stark contrast to yesterday when the sun had shone from morning until night.
The weather isn’t the only thing that’s different. I’m different. I’m still reeling from the change in the man I thought I knew. The man I’ve been infatuated with for years despite him choosing Beth over me. The man I thought I hated when I blamed him for her death. The man sleeping beside me, dark eyelashes gracing his cheeks, the bedsheets tangled around his waist revealing his taut chest and extensive ink, which my fingers are dying to explore.
After he gave me a mind-blowing orgasm that I hadn’t thought my body capable of, I’d expected him to take his own pleasure. Instead, he’d held me, dried my tears (how embarrassing), pressed his lips to my forehead and left them there until I fell asleep.
I study him, unable to tear my gaze away. Who is this man I’ve married until death do us part? I expected a lot of things from my wedding night, but tenderness and compassion weren’t among them.
Gently, I ease back the covers and climb out of bed, swiping the nightdress someone had left out for me—that I never ended up wearing—off the chair. I pad across the thickly carpeted floor with a deep enough pile to sink my toes into it and slip into the bathroom. Once I’ve shut the door, I slide the nightdress on and plant both hands on either side of the sink. I stare at my reflection in the mirror and silently chant a few revelations from my wedding night.
I’m not broken.
I am capable of orgasm.
Matthew and Paul were the ones with the problem, not me.
Nicholas is a sex god.
Nicholas is a pierced sex god.
The door opens, and my eyes collide with Nicholas’s in the mirror. Unless I’m mistaken, a flash of relief crosses his face before he schools his expression. He’s utterly naked, and my gaze lowers. He’s half erect, the silver barbell visible in the crown of his penis. He said last night that it wouldn’t hurt to have that inside me, but I never got to test that theory. I wonder if I’ll get to test it today or if, after my uncharacteristic breakdown last night, he’ll think of me as some kind of sensitive, vulnerable woman who’ll need constant reassurance.
I’m not that woman. I’ve never been that woman. I’m tough, resilient.
He stalks across the tiled floor and comes up behind me, trapping me at the sink. Bracing his arms on either side of mine, he kisses the back of my neck.
“I thought you’d gone.” His voice is husky, still heavy with sleep.
“Where would I go? You’d set the hounds on me.” I smile to show I’m only half teasing, although the De Vils are proprietary bastards, so my joke isn’t all that far off the mark.
“No, I’d come looking for you myself.” He runs both hands over my ribcage before settling them on my hips. “I like this nightgown on you, although I’d like it more if it was on the floor.”
The shift in his behavior toward me is making my head spin. Whenever our paths crossed before he became engaged to Beth, he all but ignored me. After he got together with my sister, he was mildly irritated every time we came into contact, only speaking to me when he absolutely had no alternative. Then after we were told of our marriage, he became a little more tolerant. Perhaps resigned is a better term. Following the incident at the nightclub, he showed me his possessive, slightly unhinged side (yes, I saw the bruises on his knuckles in the days following and I guessed how he got them, too).
But this… the sensual, tender, downright sexy side… it’s a lot to take in. I keep waiting for the mask to crack.
A tell-tale flush creeps over my cheeks, and I lower my lashes to hide my eyes from him. Nicholas has this intensity about him that’s overwhelming at times, and with him standing behind me, his erection poking me in the back, he’s got me all of a dither. I need to keep my wits about me because if this man senses the slightest weakness, he’ll pounce. I’ve already gifted him a virtual breakdown over an orgasm—or lack of. He’s a dominant man, which is why he chose to marry Beth. But I’m not compliant like she was, and I don’t intend to start now.
Coarse fingertips brush hair away from my neck, and he drops kisses along the slope of my shoulder. When he reaches the thin, satin strap holding up my nightgown, he eases it down my arm, then repeats the move on the other side. The nightgown falls to the floor. He runs a hand over my right buttock.
“What did your previous lovers do or say to make you think you were broken?”
His question comes out of left field, and my eyes flare in surprise. “Nothing.” That’s not entirely true, but knowing this family like I do, I wouldn’t put it past Nicholas to have Matthew meet an unfortunate accident while reloading a gun during shooting practice.
Crack.
His palm lands on my arse. I yelp. “Ow! What’s that?—?”
Slap.
I squeal and try to twist out of his grip, but he’s positioned me in such a way to make that impossible, especially against his superior strength.
“What did I say about lying to me?” he whispers darkly, his lips gracing the shell of my ear. “This is what you get. Tell me.”
Thwack.
This time, I groan. It doesn’t hurt anymore. Instead, it’s turning me on. Eloise is a big fan of being spanked, but as I’ve never experienced it, I’ve no frame of reference. But when Nicholas’s large hand lands on my buttocks for a fourth time, a gush of wetness dampens my upper thighs. I groan again.
“Looks like we’re already discovering something you like. Isn’t that right, Half-pint?” He spanks me again, and again, and again. By the time he’s finished, I’m a quivering mess, my inner thighs are soaked with my arousal, and my knees won’t stop shaking.
He turns me in his arms, grips my hips in a bruising hold, and smashes his lips to mine.
I melt.
The alpha male act isn’t one I’d have thought would’ve turned me to putty, but it does. It has. I virtually collapse against him, driving my fingers into his hair. He picks me up, fireman style, and marches back into the bedroom, tossing me onto the mattress. When I land and bounce, I laugh.
He follows me, trapping me with his muscular arms, his knees on either side of my thighs. “Tell me. I won’t ask again and next time, the punishment might not be quite so arousing. I don’t want fucking secrets between us. Tell me what they said.”
He isn’t going to stop until he gets what he wants, and I like that he doesn’t want secrets between us. I don’t, either.
“Not they. He . Matthew, my college boyfriend. The other guy was a kid, like me. High school fling.”
“Tell me about Matthew.”
“On one condition.”
He arches an eyebrow. “You’re negotiating with me? That’s cute.”
“Nicholas, I mean it.”
He makes a dismissive gesture, flicking his wrist. “Spit it out, then. What’s this condition?”
“You don’t do anything to him.”
“What makes you think I’d do anything to him?”
“Oh, come on. No secrets, you said. I saw the bruised knuckles. You found out who the guy was who hit me at Noir, didn’t you?”
“Damn fucking right I did. No one touches my woman and gets away with it.”
My woman. I thought I couldn’t melt any more. Turns out I was wrong. I’m nothing more than a puddle of gooey marshmallow. He may be incapable of love, but he’s got the possessive jerk down to a fine art, and the fact I’m here for it might make me a jerk, too, but I don’t care.
“Promise me you won’t hurt Matthew.”
His eyes flash. “Is this man still in your life?”
“No. He joined the navy. I haven’t seen him in over a year.”
He nods, and I’ve a horrible feeling I’ve just given him information I should have kept to myself.
“Promise me,” I reiterate.
“As long as this Matthew doesn’t come anywhere near you, I won’t seek him out and show him what a real man looks like. Now, tell me.”
I rub my lips together. “He asked me if I was frigid.”
Nicholas’s jaw tightens and his fists scrunch the sheets. “He fucking what?”
His voice is lower than I’ve ever heard it, laced with a raw anger that made me glad I’d dragged that promise out of him. If I hadn’t, Matthew’s days may be numbered. There’s a dark part of me that’s enjoying this possessive show of strength. It makes me feel… wanted, I guess. But I don’t want anybody to die over it.
“It doesn’t matter.”
A vein pulses in his forehead, the cords of his neck protruding. “It doesn’t matter? Of course it fucking matters.”
“Nicholas.” I press my palm to his cheek. “It was a long time ago.”
“And yet it’s still affecting you.”
He’s right. It is. Or it was.
“Will it stroke your ego to say that it was affecting me… until last night?”
“Yes.” His lips tilt up, and the small smile changes his entire appearance. I can’t look away. Nicholas has always been a broody kind of guy, the frown lines between his eyebrows prominent and menacing, but when he smiles, like he is now, those lines disappear, and his features soften.
Bracing himself on his forearms, he lowers his head and brushes his lips against mine. Tingles explode in my body, and I writhe beneath him, showing him what I want, what I need.
“You’re temptation wrapped in a pint-sized yet perfect package, wife.” His nose traces mine in a gentle caress. “Sadly, we don’t have time.” He springs off the bed and reaches down for my hand, pulling me up with him.
“Why? What’s so urgent?”
“Our honeymoon. Unless you’d rather stay here.”
My eyes flare. For some reason I hadn’t expected a honeymoon. This wasn’t a love match. It was an arrangement. Yet it doesn’t feel like that. It feels… real.
“Honeymoon? Where?”
The wink he gives me is so fast, I may have imagined it. “You’ll see.”