Chapter 22 The Aftermath
We stayed locked together, panting, sweat cooling on our skin. He kissed me softly now, lips, cheeks, eyelids, like he was memorizing me.
Eventually he pulled out gently, helping me rearrange clothes with tender hands. My legs felt like jelly when he set me on my feet.
“I meant to take you riding,” he said ruefully, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Show you the trails. Teach you more control in the open air.”
I laughed breathlessly. “We got distracted.”
His smile was slow, wicked. “We did.”
He led me out to saddle two horses anyway, a gentle chestnut mare for me, a massive black stallion for him. We rode side by side through frost-laced meadows, wind sharp on our flushed faces. He taught me breathing techniques to filter overwhelming input, how to focus on one scent or sound at a time.
By the time we returned to the stables at dusk, I felt steadier. The world was still louder, sharper, but I could handle it.
As we walked back toward the house, our hands brushed. Neither of us pulled away.
Dinner that night was tense. Ben had emerged from his suite, looking marginally better, and insisted on a formal meal in the main dining room. He sat at one end, Alexander at the other, me in the middle like a referee.
Conversation was stilted, Ben probing about board matters, Alexander deflecting with cool precision. Every time Ben’s gaze lingered on me too long, I felt Alexander’s jealousy flare through the bond, hot and sharp.
When dessert was served-chocolate mousse I barely tasted-Alexander leaned back in his chair, swirling his wine glass idly as he regarded us both with a mild, almost amused expression.
"You two seem rather uncomfortable for newlyweds," he said casually, voice smooth as silk. "I haven't really seen you together much at all these past days.
Perhaps I'm overthinking it."
The words landed like a carefully aimed dart. My heart stuttered. He knew-he'd known from the beginning-that this marriage was a sham, but Ben didn't know he knew. I kept my face neutral, fork paused over the mousse, waiting to see how Ben would scramble.
Ben's eyes narrowed, a flush creeping up his neck.
He forced a tight laugh. "We're fine, Alexander. We don't need to be all over each other to prove anything to you or anyone else. Some couples prefer privacy." His tone sharpened.
"You should focus on the board instead of our marriage. Now that I'm married, as agreed, it's time you put me on it. A deal's a deal."
Alexander's expression didn't change, but I felt a ripple of satisfaction through the bond-cool, predatory. He'd baited the hook perfectly, and Ben had bitten hard.
"Of course," Alexander said mildly. "We'll discuss it at the next meeting. No rush."
Ben muttered something under his breath and attacked his dessert with unnecessary force.
The rest of the meal passed in brittle silence. I excused myself early, claiming fatigue, and escaped to my room. I showered, letting the hot water ease the lingering soreness, then slipped into a soft silk camisole and shorts. Crawling into bed, I tried to read, but my mind kept circling Alexander's calculated jab at dinner and the way Ben had squirmed.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand.
A text from an unknown number-his private one, I realized with a thrill.
Thinking about how tight you felt around me this afternoon. I can still taste you on my tongue. Dream of me tonight, little mate. I'll be doing the same-of burying myself inside you again, hearing you scream my name.
Heat flooded me instantly, pooling low in my belly. I bit my lip, thumbs hovering over the screen before typing back:
If you keep texting like that, I won't sleep at all. I'll be too busy touching myself thinking of you.
His reply came almost instantly:
Good. Send me a picture of exactly what you're doing.
I laughed softly, cheeks burning, and snapped a teasing shot-just my bare legs tangled in the sheets, nothing explicit. His response was a single word:
Mine.
I fell asleep with the phone clutched to my chest, body humming with anticipation, the bond of a warm, steady thread connecting me to him across the vast house.
Tomorrow would bring new tensions, new secrets. But tonight, in the dark, I let myself indulge in the forbidden truth: I was already his, whether I admitted it fully or not.
Sleep pulled me under quickly that night, the silk camisole cool against my heated skin, Alexander’s naughty texts still glowing in my mind. The bond hummed softly, a warm tether stretching across the mansion, lulling me into dreams that were lighter this time, no frantic running through moonlit woods, no ominous warnings. Just warmth and sensation.
I woke to pale morning light filtering through the curtains. The ache between my legs was real enough, though, a sweet reminder of yesterday’s reality in the stables and conservatory. I stretched lazily, sheets sliding over sensitive skin, and let myself linger on the memory of his texts. Mine. The word still sent a thrill through me.
Eventually duty called. I showered, letting hot water ease the pleasant soreness, then dressed in a soft burgundy sweater dress that hugged my figure without being overt and black tights. I left my hair down in loose waves, applied a touch of makeup, and headed downstairs.