I stop walking. “What?”
“I feel a different energy here. I can’t explain it, but I love this castle. What is it?”
“It’s the place I consider to be my true home.”
“Then it’ll be our home now.”
My throat tightens. I’ve never truly experienced this concept of family. I lost my mother very young, and my father—unsure of what to do with me, I suppose—soon married Iona.
“Yes, our home, my wife,” I say, pushing away the bad memories.
“You’re possessive.”
“If I denied it, I’d be a liar.”
“I like it that way. Everything about you. Everything we are together.”
I reach our bedroom, but instead of stopping at the suite, I carry her into the bathroom. “You said your shoes were hurting your feet. I’ll run you a bath.”
“Alone?” she asks, blushing.
“Do you want company?” I shoot back, just to tease her, because judging by the color of her face, she’s not ready for that yet.
I sit her on the counter and remove the murderous shoes. I kiss one foot, then the other.
“You’re a contradiction, Rodrick. And you mess with my head far too much.”
“And your heart?”
“My heart most of all.”
Chapter 41
I hesitated over whether to undress or stay clothed. I’ve never been with a virgin before, so in a way, this is a first for me too.
Then I came to the conclusion that it wouldn’t be a good idea, on our first day as a married couple, to start by pretending to be something I’m not.
She’s my wife now, and I’m not going to act like we’re living in the Victorian era. Jazmina has to get to know my body and learn to show herself to me as well.
Then I remember the day she slipped in the bathroom and the excuse she came up with just to be touched. She is a virgin, yes, but sexy as hell. I’m certain it won’t take long before she has me on my knees in the bedroom.
I’m almost thirty-seven years old and I’ve fucked a lot in my life, but I’ve never had this kind of reaction stirred in me by anyone. The brush of our bodies sets me on fire—an open flame, primal lust.
Madness, desire, hunger—I can call it whatever I want, but the truth is I don’t know how to define what Jazmina has become to me.
I went from reluctant guardian to worshipper of an uncontrollable girl.
From protector to a male starving for his female.
Her reactions when she’s in my arms are a chapter all their own. The moans of pleasure she gives me are tattooed in my mind. I can hear them when I lie alone in bed, aching to bury myself in her untouched body.
I’m rational by nature, despite my hot temper, but around Jazmina, I let the primitive part of me surface, the one I usually keep under control. There’s something about her, like a call I can’t ignore.
We’re opposites and complements.
Always, like a constant prayer, every time I saw her, a voice screamed insistently:
Mine.