The Proposal - Kitty Thomas Page 0,48

get alone time with me. On these dates, the others aren't discussed, and it's sometimes easy to forget they all know each other and everything has changed forever.

I pick up on the third ring.

“Are you home alone?” Soren asks. As if he needs to ask. He knows I am.

“Yes,” I whisper. I don't know why I whisper, but I can't help it when Soren calls. He's the only one of the three who calls like this. But his dominance in the pecking order has been established.

Soren doesn't bring up the phone calls when I see him. In person, he acts as if they aren't even happening. And I don't bring it up either. The phone sex is a separate thing, a separate world and as long as I keep it separate I can look him in the eyes.

I don't even know if Griffin and Dayne know about these nightly phone calls. Then my entire body flushes as I realize Griffin and Dayne may be listening at this very moment. After all, Soren calls from his land line at the estate. Someone else listening in is a distinct possibility because there's more than one phone in his house—all connected to the same phone line. It feels oddly old-fashioned, and yet, he refuses to give up his land line even as he handles most business with his cell phone. He is the oldest thirty-seven-year-old man I know.

“Was your pussy wet at the pre-nup meeting today?” he asks without any warm up. And now that it's occurred to me that Griffin and Dayne may not be making calls like this only because they're enjoying the pleasure of listening to them, everything takes on an even more illicit tone.

“W-what?” I stammer.

He laughs. “You looked really turned on. I know that look.” And he does. They all know that look. Even though they've behaved like monks when we're together, it's only because they don't want me to get too comfortable with them before they've stolen all my freedom away. This act of waiting for the wedding night has become its own brand of kink. We don't talk about it out loud, but I know we all feel it.

They've gotten used to this fantasy idea of me, the untouched virgin on her wedding night. And even though it isn't true—I'm not in any way untouched—my long bout of celibacy means in some ways it'll be like my first time. And it will definitely be my first time with three different people all touching me together. So there's a strange truth to this extended role-play.

“I wasn't turned on,” I say, “I was upset. I was mortified and humiliated, especially by what Griffin said.” I still can't believe he said that. I've been romanticizing him somehow as my protector for months on the basis of a single interaction where he stepped in against Soren.

“Sure, Livia. You know, these lies won't be tolerated when we're married. You may get away with it now, but if you try this after you've pledged to honor and obey me, you will be punished. By all three of us.”

I swallow hard at this, trying to tamp down the stupid fucking excited arousal flooding my panties again. My body is in an all-out mutiny against my mind these days.

“You're wet right now, aren't you?”

“Y-yes,” I confess, clutching the phone more tightly.

We're reciting traditional vows at the wedding. Very traditional vows—the ones where I will promise to honor and obey him in front of hundreds of people. Royal weddings don't even include the word obey for the bride anymore. But the idea of saying those words in front of all those people sends an erotic thrill down my spine. There is something deeply wrong with me.

“Are you ready for wedding preparations?” he asks.

The first time he called me and asked this question I thought he meant things like flavor of cake, or the dress, music, flowers, invitations, or the thousand tiny details of a wedding this large and lavish.

But that wasn't what he meant. He was talking about me preparing my body so that I could receive them on the wedding night. He actually used those exact words, and my knees almost buckled beneath me as my breathing became more erratic. He'd only chuckled at my reaction.

“Yes, I'm ready for wedding preparations,” I say quietly. Demurely. Who is this person I become under the spell of his low rumbling voice?

“Good girl,” he growls. “And let me remind you, sweet Livia, these wedding preparations are for