Page 16 of Prince of Control
It’s probably too early in the morning to pick fights with my soon-to-be husband, but I need to establish boundaries. I still don't understand why I’m here or what he wants with me, but I know it can’t be for any good reason.
In a flash, I find myself pinned on my back with Benjamin rolled on top of me. Turns out, he is wearing boxers, but through the fabric, I feel his hardening cock nudge between my legs.
I’m instantly wet, my body responding to his dominance. To his closeness. He smells clean, like soap and his own unique man-scent.
“Oh, malyshka,” he chides, looking down at me with glittering eyes. His hands manacle my wrists, pinning them to the bed beside my head. “You’re my wife.” Our gazes lock. His is so intense, I swear he can see into my soul. “Everything about you is my business.”
I turn my face to the side to break eye contact as he continues, “...from the kind of birth control you use to how you take your coffee in the morning.” He lowers his lips, like he’s going to kiss the side of my neck.
My heart pounds. Birth control I use? Gospodi! Is he planning on getting me pregnant? Is that what this is about?
And–am I going to let him seduce me like this?
No. No way. I can’t. Not even if he does look like a Greek Adonis. Not even if my body responds to him like he owns it.
“Don’t.”
He instantly freezes, his mouth so close to my skin I feel his warm breath. He hovers there a moment, then eases off me, rolling away and releasing me.
I’m one part relieved, one part disappointed.
I’m happy to know I have agency over my body. That he’ll stop when I say no. Or at least he did this time.
But my body mourns the loss of his heat against my skin. The fact that I won’t find out how it feels to have his mouth on my flesh. And I’ll never know what he planned to do after that kiss.
Not that I think he was following a plan.
His dominance felt instinctual, which would be a huge turn-on if we were dating. If I weren’t his prisoner.
“How do you take your coffee in the morning?”
I’m stunned at how quickly he switches from intense to casual. Like we didn’t just have a moment where our hearts were beating together as his body covered mine.
I force an equally casual tone. “Cafe au lait.”
He starts to roll out of bed then pauses to ask, “Are you getting up now, or are you going to try to fall back to sleep?”
I swing my legs over the side of the mattress. “No, I’m up.”
I don’t look, but I’m intensely aware of him pulling on his pants behind me. The stranger I shared a bed with last night is getting dressed. Every cell in my body is aware of his nearness. The state of half-dress both of us are in.
“I’ll make that coffee, and then I can show you around campus before your first class.”
It sounds so thoughtful. It is thoughtful. I just don’t trust him or any of it.
Still, I don’t have the slightest clue where to go or how to get around this campus, and I’m not so full of pride to refuse help when it will make my life easier.
“Okay,” I agree, stepping into the large walk-in closet and clicking on a light. For a reason I don’t care to examine, I don’t shut the door behind me to give myself privacy as I dress. As I slip off my sleep shorts, I would swear the sounds of Benjamin getting dressed stop.
Is he watching me?
Do I want him to watch me?
I guess I must, or I would’ve shut the door. That’s crazy.
I mean, he is attractive. I wouldn’t have said he’s my type, but I know why I respond to him. He carries the same confidence and edge of danger as my dad. My dad’s violence feels closer to the surface, but there’s something about both of them that makes people follow their leadership.
But screw that. I’m mad at my dad right now. I’m not going to admire some guy who’s as lethal as he is.
