dress and tie Elena to the bed so I can have my way with her. I want to fuck her until she screams.
Taking a few short breaths, I wait until I have a handle on myself before turning to face her. She’s standing as still as a statue with her head lowered. Worry pulls me to my feet, and I go to her. Is she having regrets? Has that mind of hers already started formulating a plan of escape? Something ugly and fierce twists my stomach in knots at the thought. If she left me, I don’t think anyone could stop me from leaving destruction in my wake in a quest to get her back. Having her where I can see and feel her makes me feel only slightly better. She might be physically here, but the rest of her could be hundreds of miles away.
I rest my hands on her shoulders and pull her back into me. “Are you all right, gatita? It’s been a long day. Maybe some sleep—”
“Will you help me out of my dress?” she asks, the words tumbling out so fast I almost miss them.
Going completely still, I tighten my hold on her shoulders. “Are you sure?”
I need to be certain before I make a move. I need her to willingly submit because she wants to, not because she feels she has to. Everything about our arrangement has changed, and her new place in my life affords her a level of respect not reserved for a prisoner.
She looks at me over her shoulder, and I don’t see a trace of doubt on her face. “Yes.”
Relief rushes through me, easing some of the suspense putting me on edge. My hands are steady as I slip the tiara free of her hair. Letting it fall to the floor, I go to work on the row of buttons going down her back. Inches of her skin appear with each unfastening, and I press my lips to the base of her neck to inhale her scent. Ever since I allowed her to retrieve personal items from her apartment, she’s started smelling like a mouth-watering perfume that makes me want to lick her from neck to toes. Her breath grows uneven when I let my lips travel across her bared shoulders and slip my hands into the opening of her dress. I trace the lacy fabric of a white bustier across her belly, then up over her breasts. The dress sags down to her waist and she slips her hands out of the delicate sleeves.
Urgency has me moving faster, pushing the dress to her feet, and attacking the strings of her petticoats. So many damned layers that I would see as a nuisance if they hadn’t served to make her look so stunning today. Still, I’m grateful petticoats aren’t an everyday occurrence, unable to imagine how the men of the past used to manage it without going insane.
Finally, I turn her to face me. Her eyelids are heavy, and her lips part on labored breaths as I look her over from head to toe. She’s still wearing her pearls, and I decide they’ll be the only things she keeps on once I get her into bed—that, and the diamond I slipped onto her finger at the altar. Only her bustier, stockings, shoes, and a pair of lacy white panties are left.
“So perfect,” I whisper, trailing my hands up and down her arms. “You made a beautiful bride.”
“Thank you,” she murmurs, her mouth curving into a soft smile.
God, that smile is my kryptonite. I’m losing my mind, developing a serious soft spot for this woman. I had sworn to never let this happen and was certain I didn’t have any warm places left—except for the part of me that belongs to Marcella. But Elena is cracking me open and burrowing deep. I don’t know if I like the feeling but have come to see there’s no need to fight it. As long as she is mine this new, possessive part of me will be satisfied.
I go to my knees and help her out of her shoes, then kiss my way down both her legs while slipping off her stockings. By the time I’m finished, Elena is panting and whimpering, the scent of her arousal making my mouth water. I can’t take it anymore. I’m on my feet one second, then sweeping her off her feet the next and carrying her to bed. She gasps and clings to my neck, looking startled.