Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 112457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 562(@200wpm)___ 450(@250wpm)___ 375(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 562(@200wpm)___ 450(@250wpm)___ 375(@300wpm)
It wasn’t possible to feel that much. The onslaught of sensations was overwhelming. “I can’t.”
He studied her face. “You’re already so close again.”
“Joss,” she exclaimed. He was taking her pleasure to an unbearable limit.
“Trust me.”
She moaned as he moved his thumb in circles again. Trust him? Could she? After what he’d done?
“You’re perfect when you come,” he said in a husky voice. “Show me again.”
Despite how sensitive she was, the pleasure built again. It wasn’t a slow journey from her clit to her abdomen. It was an explosion that hit her everywhere at once, a fierce convulsion that ended as abruptly as it had started, leaving her weak and shaking.
Pulling her against him, he stroked her back. They remained like that for a while with him simply holding her. When she could stand on her own again, he rested his forehead against hers. Their breaths made puffs of vapor in the dark. She should’ve been freezing, but her body was still burning up.
He pulled away and gripped her chin, his stare intense as he searched her eyes. “You belong to me. You’re mine. I am keeping you forever.” His voice dropped with a note of warning. “It’ll be easier if you hold onto that love you’ve harbored for me for so long.”
Still finding her bearings after the orgasms, she battled to process the statement. His lips no longer made white puffs in the air. He was holding his breath. For what?
He offered her a hand. “Come.”
The tenseness radiating from his body frightened her. “Where?”
“The chapel.”
When she didn’t move, he folded his fingers around hers and pulled her onto the path.
Visions of obscure rituals conjured in her mind. Her heart started racing. “Why?”
He didn’t answer or slow down.
“Joss!”
Without giving her as much as a glance, he pulled her behind him to the light.
Chapter 29
With wide eyes and cheeks pale, Clelia took in the candles that burned on either side of the chapel aisle and the white roses on the stone pillars along the path. She hung back, trying to free herself from his hold, but he couldn’t afford to let her go. She’d run. He also didn’t slow down to still her fear. There wasn’t time. Besides, he doubted he’d be able to still it now that she grasped why they were here.
The priest waited at the ruins of the altar. It had taken a lot of convincing to get him out here, but he was an old priest who knew the history of Joss’s ancestors and who valued tradition. This was where all his predecessors had taken their wives and made their vows.
She flung herself sideways, a move that forced him to stop and look at her.
“What’s going on?” The high pitch of her voice gave away how close she was to hysteria. “Why the hell are we here?”
Squeezing her hand, he gave her as much reassurance as he could. “You know why.”
Her eyes grew even larger. “You bastard. You planned this right from the start, from the moment you found me.”
“I made arrangements in Johannesburg when I booked our flights,” he said. “Not before.”
The black pools of her eyes glittered with tears. “Is that supposed to make me feel better? It’s been your plan all along. Admit it.”
There was no point in confirming what she already knew.
Yanking her hand from his, she took a step back. “You can’t force me.”
Tension rippled up his spine at the small distance she created between them. He narrowed his eyes, remaining within grabbing reach. “Think again.”
A wounded look invaded her eyes. “Why go to all this trouble for something that’s forced?” Her next words were bitter. “A certificate from the marriage office would’ve served your purpose.”
“The marriage office is closed.” Plus, he wanted to uphold the symbolic tradition of his ancestors. In a warped way, he also wanted to make it beautiful. Forced or not, she deserved at the very least a memory of a white dress when she thought back to this day.
The priest cleared his throat, but Joss didn’t look away from her face. Gripping her shoulders, he steered her toward the side room that had served as nursery back in the day. “I thought you’d want to look like a bride.”
She dug in her heels on the threshold as her gaze lifted to the white dress hanging on a silk-covered hanger from a hook on the wall. It was a thick but intricate Breton pattern, handknitted from cashmere wool. The creation was both eccentric and unique. He’d chosen it with the weather in mind, but the fitted shape would hug her slim figure and make her look feminine. The simple dress would enhance her natural beauty. Clelia wasn’t one for frills and lace.
“How considerate,” she bit out, her slender frame shaking in his hold.
He couldn’t tell if the tremors were from anger or disgust, but neither sentiment was going to make a difference. “Need help changing?”