She bites back her sounds, trying to swallow them down as I force her legs wider apart, taking pleasure in the vulgarity of her spread wide open for me. One hand clutches the flesh of her ass, holding her in place as the other skates up beneath her, groping her breast through the silk. She is already wet for me, the faint groans of her restrained pleasure muffled into the bed as I eat her like a man starved.

It occurs to me that this isn't right. It isn't my place to provide her pleasure. But I can't seem to stop now that I've started. I want her sounds. Her weak, trembling thighs squeezing around my face. Her almost silent pleas as I bring her closer and closer to a different kind of destruction. The kind that is dangerous to us both.

She tries to fight the inevitable, even as her body tenses past the point of breaking and the first crest of pleasure starts to rumble over my tongue. Her shoulders collapse into the bed as it overtakes her completely, spasms wracking her body as I draw it out to the point when she can no longer handle it and begins to shake her head.

"Please," she begs.

I smirk against her, taking one last taste of her pleasure before I turn to her inner thigh, pressing a soft kiss against the flesh there. She shivers and then collapses into the bed entirely, glancing back at me over her shoulder.

Her face is a mixture of unfamiliar emotions as I pull the nightgown back over her hips and stroke my palms down her thighs. She knows better than to stare at me, yet it seems she can't help herself.

"I still hate you," she whispers.

I close my eyes and feel a torment unlike any I've ever known. "As you should."

The room falls silent, only the sounds of our breathing between us. Her eyes are growing heavy, and there is no reason for me to stay. But I find that I am not yet ready to go. And so, I sit there, stroking her thighs beneath my palms. Studying the curves of her body. Trying to make sense of this growing war inside me.

I want to know if she carries my child yet. I want to own her. Possess her from the inside out. I want it more than I have ever wanted anything, and it unnerves me.

I turn my thoughts toward the gala. It will be our first public appearance together since the wedding. Mercedes has been instructed to help her prepare. But I still have lingering doubts in my mind about her readiness for the occasion.

"Tomorrow is the event," I murmur. "I'm sure I don't need to tell you it's important."

She glances at me over her shoulder. "I'm well aware."