Page 60 of Edge of Stars

Inescapable now. Inevitable.

“You want to be my wife, Kara?” I ask with that same steady flow. “Then you’ll think about opening yourself to me like one.”

As I expect, she huffs. And seethes. Her arms twist across her chest, pillowing her pretty breasts against the meager remains of her wedding gown’s bodice. The poor cups weren’t built for a thunderstorm, a muck wade, and a trip across half the globe in a bizarre water bubble.

The whole ensemble will be done with its ordeal soon. I’m positive about it.

“You know what? That’s enough,” she finally spits out. Her head starts to weave like the best Act One Kate, preparing to read her riot act to Petruchio. But unlike the asshat in Shakespeare’s story, I’m not going to deny my woman a thing. She’s getting the exact opposite. As much as she can take. Everything she’ll say yes to. “I’ve been completely honest with you, Maximus. Always. Even after everything we both went through—”

She stops as soon as I raise a hand. “I didn’t say honest. I said open.”

“There’s a difference now?”

“There’s a difference always.” I’m unfazed by her garrulous eye roll only because I’ve logged a lot of self-control practice. And, to a small fraction, because she makes the look maddeningly cute. But it doesn’t steer me from the ultimate point. Not by one letter. “Are you being honest with me right now?”

Another eye roll—and a little toss of her shiny mane. Goddammit. “I already told you—”

“Answer me.”

“Yes,” she spits. “I’m being honest. Just like—”

“Then tell me why you woke up screaming in my arms this afternoon. And why you’ve barely slept since then.”

Her expression constricts. Her head is agonizingly still. I find myself longing for the eye roll again in place of what I know is back. Her resistance. Her staunch, stubborn gates, keeping me locked out of her innermost spirit. Her darkness…

“It’s just bad dreams, okay?”

I take a firm step. Dip my head toward hers, hating but thanking myself for making hers tilt back.

“Fine. If that’s all it is, then tell me. Open to me! Talk to me. Let me hold you and help you—”

Her arms flail out. “There’s nothing to help with, okay? I can deal with this, Maximus! I’m not a five-year-old who thinks there’s a possessed doll under the bed who’s going to feed on my soul. I don’t need—”

I wave her into silence by raising my hands as livid flags. “You know what?” I seethe into the thick pause. “Fuck this.” And then hit her with an equally fierce glower.

She stumbles back by a couple of shaky steps. “Ermmm…Maximus?”

“Take off your clothes.”

And here, at last, is where the demeanor gets tough. Her eye roll and head toss, even together, don’t win against one moment of her stunned blink-blink.

“Wh-What?”

The stuttering sough is enchanting too. Luckily, I half-expected this part—and everything she unfurls at me afterward. More fast blinks, confirming my command was the last thing she expected. But during it all, the rapid rising and falling of her chest—telling me something else.

That she likes it.

“You heard me, Kara.”

I yearn to demonstrate the point by tugging at the loose knot of her sarong, but I breathe deep and resist—showing her my own version of open. It’s all here, on full view for her. The strain in my stance. The rise of my cock. The hunger in my eyes. That especially. I’m yearning for her…in so many damn ways.

“Get as naked as me,” I emphasize in a guttural growl. “Now.”

Profound pleasure—nope, I’ll go straight for delight—suffuses my veins as soon as she moves, silently obliging me. It’s a little surprising when she curls an arm high, starting by getting free from her gown’s bodice instead of stripping free from the looser, easier sarong. But I lift one side of my mouth, wordlessly approving the choice once she bares the erect buds at the centers of her breasts. They’re already so taut and red, the areolas puckered and pinched.

She likes this.

I don’t care what her pinched lips and narrowed eyes are saying. Her body is already learning the lesson. Revealing itself to me.