Page 38 of Owned

I shrugged the thought away. If those consequences were sex, I’d be happy to suffer them — if suffering was the right word for sex with Atlas Blackwood.

He pulled the front door open and I heard the bass rumble of his voice followed by Charlotte’s dulcet tones, and a thought hit me. A way to get under his skin even as he got under mine.

Before I could second guess myself, I turned my back on the front door, quickly unzipped my skirt and shimmied out of it. Then I shrugged off my blouse and bra, not caring about the voices behind me, and went over to where the dress was laid out on the chair by the sofa. I picked up the hanger, took the gown out of the garment bag then slipped into it.

The silk was deliciously cool and slinky against my hot skin, and I shivered as I adjusted the draperies around me, tying some swathes of ivory silk in a knot on my shoulder. Of course it fitted and beautifully.

I unpinned the rest of my hair, half of which was already coming down due to Atlas’s handling, and let the rest of it fall down my back. Then I carefully arranged the veil over my head. Lastly, I picked up the gorgeous bouquet of peonies.

There was no handy mirror around to see how I looked, but I was in white, his virgin bride, and I knew he wouldn’t be unaffected. After all, I hadn’t missed the way his golden eyes had flared when I’d told him I was a virgin. He liked that, apparently. Which gave me another weapon to use against him.

Gripping both my bouquet and my determination, I turned around.

Charlotte, wearing an elegant pale green silk dress, was coming across the massive open space of the loft, a smile lighting her face. “Rowan,” she exclaimed. “What a beautiful dress! Did you take my advice then, hmm?”

Ah yes, the advice to dress for ‘Mr Blackwood’. I opened my mouth to say no, of course not, but Atlas got in ahead of me. “I bought it,” he said flatly. “The dress, the flowers and veil too.” He stood behind Charlotte, the expression on his face unreadable, but his gaze was molten as it roved over me, taking in the way the silk molded around my breasts, hips and thighs.

“Yes,” I said, meeting his hungry stare head-on. “You did. So thank you. And you were right, the dress fits.”

“I can see that,” he murmured.

Tension gathered in the space between us, hot and electric, and Charlotte, obviously noticing, glanced at him then at me, her expression calculating. “It’s beautiful,” she said, “and so are you, Rowan. Now, let me introduce you both to Father Graham.”

The priest who’d come in with Charlotte was an officious older man who clearly didn’t want waste any time since he got the ceremony underway without any formalities.

Soon I was standing next to Atlas, clutching my flowers as Father Graham began the lead-in to the vows, acutely conscious of what was happening and of the man beside me. Of his height and his heat, and the mouthwatering scent of his aftershave. Wondering if he was as conscious of me as I was of him. Wondering if he was thinking about his hand between my thighs the way I was thinking about it right now. How it had felt when his finger had pressed down right where it needed to be and something inside me had burst apart…

God.

My cheeks were hot and I couldn’t look at the priest, not with those thoughts in my head, so I looked at the floor instead. When the time came to say the vows, I turned to face Atlas, meeting his gaze through the gauzy silk of my veil. The look on his face was enigmatic, yet something hot burned in his eyes .

Yes, he was definitely thinking about that moment too. I don’t know how I knew, but I did.

“Do you have the rings?” Father Graham asked portentously, looking at Atlas.

“Of course.” Atlas reached into the pocket of his black pants before producing a dainty platinum band set with tiny blueish purple sapphires.

I’d forgotten entirely about rings and as he took my hand and pushed it onto my finger, I stared at it in shock. Then he began repeating the vows, the look on his face fierce with something I didn’t understand.

When the time came for me to say mine, I didn’t expect him to produce a wedding ring for himself, yet he held out a heavy, plain platinum band for me to put on his finger all the same. And I did, stammering my way through my vows to him, caught by that complicated, fierce expression in his eyes.

Then I realized. The last time he’d said those vows, he’d said them to my mother. Now, he was saying them to me.

Mom had always been honest with me about why she’d married him. It was so he could protect her from one of her exes, nothing to do with love. Yet I’d always known that she’d lied to me, because when he’d left she’d taken to her bed for a whole week.

The strangeness of it made me feel dizzy and weird, especially when the priest pronounced us husband and wife. I was dressed in white, carrying flowers and wearing a veil, to all intents and purposes a bride. Marrying my ex-stepfather.

Except I also wasn’t a bride. Because while this wedding might have had all the trappings of reality, it wasn’t real. I didn’t love Atlas and he didn’t love me and we were only doing this because my grandmother had insisted on it, and for some reason Atlas had agreed.

It was an odd dislocation I couldn’t quite handle, especially when Atlas drew up my veil and lifted it back over my head, exposing my face.

His expression was grim, the glitter in his eyes giving nothing away. He was going to kiss me, that was obvious since it was the done thing for a husband to kiss his new wife, but I could tell he didn’t want to.

Again, the woman I’d been when I’d first walked in here might have interpreted his expression as one of distaste, yet only now did I understand that it was the opposite.

I stared up at him, feeling that strange sense of exhilaration pass through me again, making me send a silent dare to him before sweeping my lashes down demurely. He didn’t say a word but when his fingers gripped my chin and he tilted my head back, I couldn’t resist a faint smile of triumph. Except his kiss, when it came, was featherlight and not enough, and I knew that was his reply. A dare in return.

I wanted to reach up and take his face between my hands, hold him there to prolong the kiss, but I didn’t want to give myself away to Charlotte. So instead I rose up on my toes, pressing my mouth more firmly to his. Only to have him pull away. A slight, satisfied smile turned his mouth. He was as pleased with his effect on me as I was with my effect on him.

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