She turns to look in the mirror again, giving herself a small laugh. "One friend suggested I could just skip wearing underwear." Her voice drops to a whisper. "Make things… easier."
My brain short circuits. Immediately, my gaze goes to her ass, wondering if she has panties on. Then it occurs to me that this could be part of her plan, act all innocent and naïve but really manipulating me.
It doesn’t really matter what she’s doing. My dick wants one thing and it won’t allow me to consider anything else.
I stride to her, blocking her against the vanity from behind. "Don't play with fire, little girl," I growl.
Hannah doesn't shrink away. Her eyes watch me defiantly through the mirror. "Maybe I like fire."
My hand slides to her hip, squeezing. The thin fabric of her dress does nothing to hide how perfectly she fits against my palm. She gasps, and the sound shoots straight through me.
“I don’t think you know what you like.” How can she? She’s still a virgin. It hits me then. Last night, I probably gave her her first orgasm.
I drag my fingers up her side, feeling her shiver. When I reach the curve of her tit, she arches into my touch. Themovement presses her ass against my cock, and I have to bite back a groan.
"Is this what you want?" I run my thumb across her nipple through the dress. It hardens instantly. "To play with a man who could destroy you?"
"Is that what you want? To destroy me?"
"No. But I might."
Her gaze holds mine through the mirror. “Why? Why don’t you like?—”
I can’t hear the rest of that sentence. Instead, I let the tether break. I spin her around and capture her mouth with mine, swallowing her gasp. She tastes like coffee and something sweeter. My hands roam her body, desperate to feel every curve, every inch of soft skin beneath that dress. To find out if she’s wearing underwear.
Hannah moans into the kiss, her fingers gripping my shirt. The sound drives me wild. I press harder against her, grinding my dick against her, lifting her onto the vanity and stepping between her legs.
"Ash.” The way she says my name makes me so fucking hard.
I press closer, drowning in the scent of her perfume, the taste of her mouth, the feel of her skin under my fingers.
“Mr. and Mrs.—Oh!” The realtor's voice cuts through the haze of desire. "I'm so sorry, I just…" She stumbles backward. "I'll wait downstairs."
Hannah buries her face in my shoulder, her body shaking with suppressed laughter. The moment shatters, reality crashing back. What am I doing? I set her down carefully, stepping back to put distance between us.
But it's too late. The warmth of her body lingers on my hands. The taste of her lips haunts my mouth. In just a day, this girl has worked her way under my skin.
Hannah smooths her dress, cheeks pink but eyes dancing with mischief. She looks thoroughly kissed, thoroughly mine. The possessive thought hits me hard, and I know I’m fucked. I'm in dangerous territory here. This is supposed to be a marriage on paper only. Instead, I'm lifting my young wife on vanities, insinuating myself between her thighs, and marking her with my hands, my mouth, my need.
Meghan's ghost whispers in the back of my mind, but for the first time, her memory feels distant compared to the very real, very alive woman standing before me.
7
HANNAH
My face flushes hot as Ash's piercing blue eyes lock onto mine. The raw hunger in his gaze makes my legs wobbly.
He gives his head a shake. “Sorry… I…”
The moment of feeling desperately needed vanishes with the regret that appears in his eyes, in his voice.
Before we were interrupted, I was feeling on top of the world. The intensity of need rolling off him made me feel beautiful, desired, his. Until last night, I’d never felt anything like this before, this crackling electricity that threatened to consume everything in its path. For those brief moments, it felt like he truly wanted me. Not just my family's connections or the political advantage of our marriage, but me.
But when we were interrupted, he stepped back from me so quickly it was like I'd burned him. The loss of his touch leaves me cold and aching. But the conflict in him, the regret he clearly feels at betraying Meghan, that hurts and angers me. I’m his wife!
I smooth down my dress, trying to collect myself before we go meet the real estate agent. My friends were right. The idea of nopanties clearly did something to him. I hadn’t intended it to. Not really. After all, my panties are still on. But now that I see that I do have some sexual power, I have to decide whether I want to use it. As much as I love it when he touches me, his rejection afterward is too painful, too humiliating.
I step around Ash, glad that my voice sounds strong, unaffected. "Let's get this paperwork sorted." I head downstairs, not glancing back at him. But I know he’s behind me. The man radiates an energy that has me ensnared. Just my luck, I feel something for my husband who loves someone else.
