The evidence of my reaction to his hands on my body when he was helping me out of my dress currently stares back at me, mocking me for being so weak.
I wish I could call Francesco and ask for his advice. He would know how to handle this situation of desiring someone while still maintaining the upper hand. I fear with Tiernan he’ll always be the one to hold all the cards in this twisted union of ours. Most made men do in marriages, so why should mine be any different?
I get into the shower and let the warm water hit my skin, wishing it could wash away all my doubts and fears as easily as it can cleanse me of the day’s sweat and grime.
My thoughts are still on my esposo as I spill the fragrant hotel soap into my hands and begin to wash myself with it. I scrub the small patch of skin on my neck, shoulders, and back, making sure I cover every inch that Tiernan had defiled with his caress. To my utter annoyance, my lower belly warms at the memory, making the inside of my thighs slick with heat.
When I left Mexico to marry into the Kelly family, I expected many things, but not this. Not once did it ever occur to me that I could somehow become physically aroused by a man I barely know.
Maybe it’s a good thing that I’m physically attracted to my husband.
Maybe it will make it easier to compartmentalize when he finally decides to take what is now legally his.
I’ve heard Francesco say a million times that sex doesn’t have to involve feelings for it to be good. You don’t even have to like the person you’re fucking to have a good time. In fact, it’s an added bonus if all you feel is blinding hatred for each other. Makes the fucking that much better.
His words, not mine.
Unfortunately for me, Francesco’s experience in that department is all I have to go on. Neither Alejandro nor Javier would dare talk so openly on the subject of sex with me, which leaves my baby brother’s sexual exploits as my only point of reference. Bringing up such a topic to an outsider, or God forbid my parents, would only gain me ridicule, as well as Miguel’s punishing temper.
My hand presses down on my chest again, only this time it’s not to slow my racing heartbeat, but to try and fill the gaping hole from missing my dearest brother. I wish he was here with me right now. Even if Francesco couldn’t help me maneuver this new life of mine, he would have been able to brighten up my days with his smile and coax out one of my own.
I doubt I’ll be smiling anytime soon.
Worst of all, I fear that without me home in Mexico, Francesco might try to fill the void I’ve left behind by losing himself at the bottom of a bottle or any other of his many vices.
Just as the worrisome thought passes through my mind, another quickly replaces it.
This one is even more troubling.
‘Drink.’ Tiernan had ordered, and when I refused to budge, he took my mouth hostage with his and poured the sharp sour liquid inside it.
I can still recall how the alcohol burned its way down my throat, but it was Tiernan’s lips and tongue that really left their scorching mark on me, heating every nerve ending and making my pulse race. Everything about the small exchange held a heady electric quality to it, inflaming me from within and leaving me rooted to my spot to burn.
Like his first kiss back at the church, his second left me just as wanting. I have no doubt that Tiernan has an arsenal of weapons at his disposal to eviscerate his enemies. However, I’m hesitant to believe he’s unaware that his kiss is also one of them.
Dangerous and downright lethal to any woman’s sanity.
But apparently my mental stability is of no concern to my husband.
Only my virtue.
He said it was safe.
I’m not sure it is, though.
Not if he insists on kissing me like that whenever the whim hits him.
I push all thoughts of my husband away and finish washing up. By now, he’s probably in the living room, either finishing his whiskey bottle until it’s completely empty or blissfully asleep on a chaise lounge, dreaming up different and creative ways to unsettle me. Although Alejandro’s advice was for me to get pregnant as fast as possible, knowing that I can postpone sleeping with my husband for one more night is the answer to a prayer I didn’t even know I had made.
Before meeting Tiernan, I would have blamed my reluctance to sleep with him on us being lifelong enemies. Our families spending decades trying to kill each other doesn’t exactly lay the best foundation to elicit trust in the bedroom or even outside of it.
However, I’m very aware that my hesitation is now purely because of the man himself and the unfamiliar emotions he’s been drawing out of me. Maybe it’s my inexperience that beckons caution, but the small voice inside my head whispers that no amount of prudence will ever prepare me for Tiernan when he decides to take me.
And take me he will.
It’s all a question of time.
Virtue be damned.
Once I’ve rinsed the shampoo out of my hair and the liquid soap from my skin, I get out of the shower and dry myself off. Feeling too exhausted to blow dry my hair, I dry it with a towel and run a brush through it so as not to let it entangle throughout the night. I then open my bag to get some pajamas and cringe when I see a provocative almost see-through teddy one of my father’s servants purchased for me to wear on my wedding night. In his mind, pleasing a husband in bed is a wifely duty, right up there with keeping a home spotless. A chore that needs to be done, no matter how unappealing.
I push the lingerie back into the bag, making sure it’s out of my sight, and decide to sleep in the hotel’s guest robe instead. I would rather sleep in the nude than put that horrid thing on me tonight. I’m at my wit’s end with how much I’ve given of myself today as it is. After brushing my teeth and rubbing some coconut lotion on my legs, I’m ready to call it a night and be done with this day.