Page 13 of Modern Romance Collection March 2025 (1-4)

“I don’t think—”

“Come,latria mu. I know how private you are, but we must have a picture of our first married kiss. For the scrapbooks.”

If looks could kill, she would have made an excellent hit man. So, before she could mount another argument, he kissed her. Just swooped in, curved his hand around the back of her head and pulled her in.

For thepicture.

But he was also no fan of denial. He preferred dealing with a problem head-on. He preferredaction, and he’d been wanting to know what she tasted like for far too long.

Sweet.Like the sugary confections she was so good at making. As soft in his arms as she looked. A surprising cocoon of warmth, right here as his mouth learned hers.

Because she didn’t push him away, didn’t even stiffen. He either took her enough by surprise or she understood the importance of the picture to allow him to kiss her.

He wouldn’t say sheparticipated, exactly. At first. But when his tongue traced the seam of her lips, they parted. When he drew her just that much closer, she went and evenleanedinto him, her hands coming up to his chest.

For a moment he thought she’d push, but she didn’t. She just rested them there.

So he went deeper. His fingers threading through her hair, adjusting the angle to really test the contours of her mouth. To glut himself on the confection that she was, here in his arms, kissing him back.

It was a little too potent for public consumption, and he hadjustenough self-preservation instinct to realize that. To carefully pull himself back. To settle himself before he dared look at her.

When he did, she blinked her eyes open. There was a moment of softness there. Her cheeks were pink, nearly red.

Then her expression morphed intohorrified.

But not unmoved. Her chest rose and fell, and she stared at him in a kind of open-mouthed daze.

“Did you get the photo?” he asked the photographer, not taking his gaze off her. Not dropping his hand from where his fingers were in her hair. His body veritablybuzzed, every muscle as hard as steel. He might have had a hard time catching his own breath if he didn’t have this to focus on.

“Yes, sir.”

“Make sure it looks like it’s been leaked to the press against our will by midnight.”

“Yes, sir.”

Some of thathorrorandnot unmovedstarted to shift in Lynna’s expression tofury, so he wisely dropped his hand and turned so they could walk back up to the terrace. He held out an elbow for her to take.

He could all but feel the rage pumping off of her, but she was his wife now. She didn’t have to pretend to love him very often, but she was stuck with him anyway.

It was quite the interesting arrangement. After another few moments where she stared at his outstretched elbow, then around the beach, she shook her head and began to walk ahead. She did not take his elbow.

“There’s been a delicious dinner prepared,” he said, following her in his own leisurely stroll, ignoring the desperate need foractionraging around inside of him. Though she marched ahead, he kept up easily enough. “The cake, I’m sure, won’t stand up to what you would have made, but it will be good all the same.”

“I’m not in the least bit hungry,” she returned, every word bit off in anger. “I’m going to go to my room.” She stepped inside, him behind her. “I’m going to take this ridiculous getup off.” She marched over to the stairs. “And I am going to sleep hoping when I wake, the nightmare is over.”

He followed her up the stairs, and down the hall. Watching in fascination as she began to rip the little bejeweled hairpins from her hair, releasing curl after curl of hair. A strangely violent movement, followed by a graceful gentle one.

He had a feeling even without anger, this was the heart of her. Strong, careful precision and an effortless elegance she didn’t even realize she had, shewas. He found himself desperate to touch it once more.

She opened the door to her bedroom, but turned to glare at him when he acted as if he might follow.

He held up his hands in mock surrender. “You probably need help getting out of your dress.”

“I’d chew out of it with my own teeth before I let you help me.” Then she slammed the door in his face.

It didn’t bother him. In fact, he found himself smiling. Practically humming on his way down the hall to his bedroom.

He had one year to take down his father.

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