Total pages in book: 34
Estimated words: 32259 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 161(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32259 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 161(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
“Your highness—”
Her breath catches as our eyes lock, my head slowly shaking. Her big blue eyes grow wide, and when those soft pink lips tremble so slightly as they part, I groan audibly.
“My castle. My rules…”
I move towards her, my body tightening and my pulse roaring as I hear her whimper ever so quietly. I can tell she’s a bit scared of me. But then, I can tell there’s something else in those eyes, too. Scared would have her screaming.
…Whimpering is another matter.
I move closer, watching the way she swallows thickly, the blush creeping over her cheeks as she clutches the cloth to her nakedness, wet red hair slick across her shoulders and teases down the pale freckled skin that I can see.
“My castle, my rules, my queen,” I growl lowly, groaning slightly at the way her eyes spark when I say it, or how her teeth rake across her bottom lip.
“So, little queen,” I groan, shaking, so damn close to yanking that cloth away from her and pulling her into my arms.
“Show me.”
She whimpers quietly, breath catching.
“Show—show you what?” she breathes.
The growl rumbles through me as I take another step towards her, body aching for her, cock pulsing like hot steel between my thighs.
“Everything,” I growl. “Show me everything, my queen.”
Chapter 3
Una
The torchlight flickers, and the hot steam swirls around me, making me almost feel like this is a dream. And yet, I know it’s not. This is no dream. Lord Hamish Ballentyne is actually standing right in front of me.
...Right here, alone, in the bathhouse, while I’m naked.
I shiver heatedly, my fingers tight as can be on the cloth I’ve got clutched to myself. The hot steam billows around us both, clinging to my skin and dripping in tiny rivulets over my body. And right in front of me, his huge size towering above me, is the most intense, fierce, and beautiful man I’ve ever seen in my entire life.
Lord Ballentyne’s gorgeous dark eyes blaze into me like dark flames—flickering and wild, and captivating me to the spot. I tremble, losing myself in that heated look.
No man has ever seen me like this.
Not even close. I’ve never even actually been alone with a man. Certainly not when I’m naked but for a strip of drying cloth. And most certainly not when the man in question has me fighting for breath just to breathe, and who has my thighs trembling as they clench tight together. My heart climbs into my throat, and I pull the cloth tighter to me, holding it up to my chin in my tightly clenched fists. His beautiful dark eyes sweep slowly over me, from head to toe, and I tremble again, somehow feeling even more naked than I am. Like merely his glance has stripped me bare for his hungry, fierce gaze.
“Your Lordship,” I breath, blushing wildly and feeling the heat of more than just the hot steam billowing across my skin.
“You—you can’t be here.”
It feels almost silly to say it, considering that we’re in his castle. Or considering that by evening, this man will be my husband, and free to see any part of me he wishes, whenever he chooses. There’s a part of me—the part my father and mother might call my “rebellious” side—that wants to turn up my nose at the idea of a man “owning” me like that. But as I stand there trembling under the fierce, wild, heated gaze of the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen, that rebellious side starts to fade.
Because the idea of this man seeing me whenever, and however he chooses is such a fierce, aching thought that it sends fire blazing through me into places it ought not to.
“May I remind you that it’s my castle,” he purrs, one corner of his beautiful mouth turning up like he’s entertaining the idea of a smug grin.
Beautiful and arrogant, I huff to myself inside. I swallow, forcing myself to stand straight as my fingers tighten on the towel barely covering my nudity.
“And this is the women’s bathhouse,” I toss back with just the faintest hint of sass in my voice.
The smugness only grows wider on Lord Ballentyne’s face.
“Still my castle,” he growls, his voice low and rumbly as it vibrates through my core, making me swallow.
“My castle is mine, as is everything in it.”
My brow furrows, my eyes lancing right back at him as that rebellious spirit in me comes rushing back.
“Not me,” I say primly, clutching the cloth tightly as I take a half-step back.
Lord Ballentyne grins.
“Oh, very much you.”
“Not yet,” I toss back.
He arches his perfect brow, that damned smug and gorgeous smile spreading over his perfect, chiseled jaw.
“Not yet?” There’s amusement in his voice, and I blush fiercely.
“I mean we aren’t married yet, your Lordship,” I say quietly.
He grins.
“But soon, little angel,” he purrs. “Very, very soon.”