“I’m your girl now?” I questioned tentatively, a bit insecure in my admission.
“Yes. My girl,” he growled firmly, and his hands gripped at me harder. With steady swiftness, he spun me around and forced me to look at him. “Now, my pretty bride, it is time for me to claim what is mine.”
A haze of anxiety crashed over me. It was our wedding night, and he would have certain expectations of what that meant. I wanted it, but at the same time, I didn’t. I was so very conflicted.
He didn’t really give me much time to protest as he pulled me back toward the entrance to the gardens. I took each step along with him, playing the part of a willing captive and a trapped bride because I didn’t know what else I could do.
Honestly, I wasn’t sure at this point what I wanted. Did I want to go along with him? Did I want to escape and take back my freedom?
I didn’t really know.
The picturesque colors of the flowers around me grew hazy as I lost myself in conflict. He opened the door and I entered along with him, walking carefully through the hallways as my heels clicked along the hard wood. The punctuated sounds drummed almost as loudly as my heart, and I couldn’t seem to slow the way my breath flew in and out of my lungs. His grip on my arm was steady and strong and I found myself wondering if I could even break it if I tried.
When we approached the master suite, he paused and picked me up as though I weighed nothing at all. It was sexy and terrifying all at once.
“Carrying me across the threshold,” I quipped nervously, and he laughed, his mood light.
“I’m a traditional kind of man,” he replied.
“Sure,” I answered, disbelieving, and he lifted me up high enough to nibble my neck.
“I have traditional moments,” he corrected, and I laughed anxiously.
The light moment was enough to relieve my nervousness and quiet the panicked beat of my heart, at least for a little while. I allowed myself to relish his strong arms around me, a strong, firm embrace that held me as though I were weightless. His scent swirled around me, masculine and perfect and I hesitantly pressed my cheek against his chest. The constant drum of his heartbeat against my ear was just as robust as mine, but it was soothing in a way that calmed my soul.
As we crossed the threshold into his bedroom, I found myself staring at his bed, wondering how he would take me. Would he force me down on my back? Would he rather take me from behind?
Would I like it? Would he?
I’d been going along with most of today without much of a fight because I hadn’t seen any way out. There had been no easy escape and now everything came down on me with the rushing danger of an oncoming storm. When he placed me down on the floor, I sucked in a harsh breath.
I shouldn’t be doing this. I was a businesswoman. It wasn’t a part of my plan to become a wife, e
specially Grayson Asher’s.
I needed to fight back. If anyone found out that I’d gone to his bed as a willing participant in this forced marriage, they’d look at me like I was insane. I was a proud woman and I grasped at those instincts, pulling at them like frayed ends of a rope until I held the entire thing in my hand. With a sigh, I closed my eyes and committed myself to fighting back.
He reached for the back of my dress, and I jerked away the moment his fingers brushed against my bare skin. I took a step forward and spun around, holding my head high enough to make him raise an eyebrow.
“Don’t touch me,” I snarled, and his gaze darkened considerably. I wobbled on my feet, questioning myself for a second before I returned his ire. He took a step toward me, and I took another backwards, until a wall pressed at my back. He surrounded me with his massive, muscular frame and my palms flattened against the painted drywall as though it would offer some sort of protection even though I knew it wouldn’t.
“I can do whatever I want with you, my pretty bride,” he purred as his arms slid around my waist. He jerked me to him and spun me around, quickly pressing me against the wall. The coolness of it on my cheek caused me to pause before he grasped the back of my dress roughly. I tried to pull away, but there was nowhere to go.
“What are you doing?” I asked in a slight panic.
“I want to see what’s mine,” he replied expectantly, and I heard the seams of my wedding dress pop as he slowly and deliberately began to tear them apart. The buttons flew off one by one, clicking as they bounced against the floor. I looked down, seeing the tiny silk-wrapped things roll along the carpet as though they were a broken strand of pearls.
I gasped as he ripped the back of my dress, slowly baring the gentle curve of my spine until it was fully laid open. I wrapped my arms around my chest protectively, hoping to delay the inevitable, but he tore at the seams as though they were made of paper. Each layer of tulle floated to the floor like a cloud.
With every ripping sound, I was reminded of his power, of his cruel intention and I found myself nervously awaiting the final outcome. He forcibly pushed the straps of the dress down my shoulders, and I clamped my arms around myself even tighter, but he was stronger than that. One by one, he tore the straps clean off and he pushed the dress down around my hips until the weight of it fell to the floor.
I stood there in the corseted top, a pair of underwear, and a garter that had been put on me before I’d been able to prevent it.
Slowly, he unclasped the top and tossed that aside. I did my best to cover my breasts, electing to protect my nipples as much as I could. As I stood there in my panties and garter, I wavered in what I wanted. I knew that I shouldn’t want this, but it was quickly becoming harder to ignore the persistent pulse of desire inside me, the needy twisting feeling deep in my core. A feeling that I knew, without a doubt, he was putting there.
I should fight this every step of the way, but he was strong. I knew that he could overpower me easily if he wanted to. He’d already done it several times today and I realized I was only left with a few options.
I could fight him, and he could force himself on me every step of the way. There was no way that wouldn’t hurt a whole lot. I didn’t want to be taken against my will, but I wasn’t totally unwilling. In the end, there was a part of me that wanted him too. He’d had me on the edge all day and I couldn’t deny the evidence between my thighs, even right now. The gusset of my panties was soaked through. I knew it and he’d find out soon enough too.