“Showtime,” she murmured to herself.
“How many paps do you think ran from The Plaza to intercept us?”
She shrugged, and a devious smile crossed her face. “If they’re smart, all of them.”
I hid my grin at her self-importance. She wasn’t wrong. Our wedding was the event of the season.
The driver rushed around to open the door and helped Katherine from the backseat. I followed in her wake. A crowd of gaping tourists stared at my new wife in her wedding dress. Flashes from paparazzi and unsuspecting bystanders continued as I drew her to me.
Hotel security exited the glass doors to escort us inside. Katherine kept a painted smile on her lips the entire time.
“Mr. and Mrs. Percy!” a photographer cried out. “One more kiss!”
Katherine stilled, her back to the photographer. “Mr. and Mrs. Percy.”
I arched an eyebrow at her. “Has a nice ring to it.”
“No way in hell am I changing my name.”
My grip tightened on her. “Shall we give them what they want?”
Before she could respond, I turned her in my arms, dipping her until her long, dark hair nearly grazed the New York City sidewalk. Then I kissed her. She went pliant in my grasp, a soft intake of breath only loud enough for me to hear.
No matter what she said …
No matter how many times she acted as if she hated me …
Her body betrayed all of her secrets.
3
KATHERINE
My back crashed back against the elevator wall as I crossed my arms over my chest. Done. We were done. No more paparazzi to deal with. No more fake smiles. No one and nothing but my husband.
Husband.
The word stuck in my throat like peanut butter on the roof of my mouth. I’d always envisioned a very different scenario for myself. What girl didn’t have a dream wedding, a dream husband, a dream life in mind? I’d gotten the dream wedding in every way that mattered to the fashion and wedding magazines that were going to be featuring me and Camden. But the rest … that was so far out of reach that it would never be obtainable.
I’d learned at a young age how to influence and manipulate the people around me to get what I wanted. I could teach a master class in it. And still, it hadn’t been enough. The man I was marrying didn’t love me. I wasn’t madly in love with him. In fact, he was the devil of the Upper East Side. Shackling myself to him was the worst-case scenario.
And there was no game I could play that Camden Percy couldn’t outmatch.
The private elevator dinged on the top floor, opening to Camden’s penthouse. Despite the fact that I had been here countless times, that we’d even slept together on and off for the last year, I’d never stayed a night in his residence. I’d never been in his bed, and he’d never been in mine. That had always felt too intimate. Like we were crossing a line. But we were now married.
So, tonight, I couldn’t see a way to escape it.
Part of me wondered if I even wanted to.
What would it be like to give my body to someone like him? What would he do with it if I let him?
I strode inside as if I owned the place, going straight for the wet bar. I skipped the bottle of champagne chilling in a bucket and reached for the harder stuff. Just as I grabbed the scotch, Camden was there. He took the bottle from my hands and replaced it.
“I don’t want you to be drunk,” he commanded.
“I wouldn’t get drunk off of that.”
“You hardly had a bite to eat all day.”
“It was my wedding day. I was busy.”
He ignored me and popped the top off the champagne. He poured bubbles into a champagne flute. “Here.” I took the glass from him, and he lifted his in a toast. “To us.”
“Mmm,” I purred. “To us.”
I downed half the drink, letting the bubbles addle my brain. I was going to need that whole bottle to calm my nerves. I hadn’t let myself think about what was about to happen. But now that I was here, there was nothing else in my brain.
Camden finished his champagne in a long gulp and then discarded his glass. He fingered the bow tie at his neck, untying it and letting it hang from around his collar. All the while, he watched me like a hawk as I sipped the champagne. He seemed relaxed, and it got my hackles up. I had no reason to be nervous here. I was far from a virgin. It wasn’t as if it was even our first time together. It shouldn’t be different. And I was furious that it felt different.
“I’m surprised you haven’t shredded my dress already.”
He leaned a hip into the wet bar. “We have all night.”
“We should get it over with.”
Camden ignored me as he took a step forward. He reached for my champagne and set it down next to him. Then he tipped my chin up to look at him. “I have no intention of making this quick.” I shivered at the words. “I want to draw out your pleasure for so long that you beg me to let you finish. Over and over and over again. I want you so sated that you forget that you ever had sex with anyone else in your life. That this is the only memory you can conjure.”
I gulped. “I’ll never beg.”
His lips tilted upward. “Is that a challenge?”
“No,” I growled. “It’s a promise.”
“We’ll see.”
But I was certain he had taken it as one.
I had limits. I would never resort to begging. Never.
He spun me around without another word. There were five thousand tiny buttons down the back of my dress. Each one had been carefully closed by the designer herself this morning when I was practically sewn into the thing. A part of me wondered if he’d cut the thing right off of me. It would be a relief, if I was honest.
But no.
Camden Percy had eternal patience. His fingers moved across the row of buttons, removing each and every one of them. And as he did it, slow and deliberate, his fingers trailed across the delicate skin on my back. A brief touch here, a soft touch there. I closed my eyes at the caress of his skin against the base of my spine. Then lower, revealing the virginal white lace of my thong, the round top of my ass.
His quick intake of breath told me he was looking even if he wasn’t yet touching. Desire pooled in me that I could make his breath hitch, even just a little.
Then he popped open the last button, and the strapless dress released from my body and pooled at my feet. I was left in nothing but my white thong, a blue garter studded with diamonds, and my white Valentino heels.
“Much better,” Camden said. “Step out of it.”
Without a thought, I did what he’d said. A pleased hum came from Camden’s throat when I didn’t protest. I was as happy to be rid of the one-of-a-kind dress as he was.
“Turn for me.”
I should have said something snippy, kept him on edge, but he was admiring me. I soaked up his attention. So, like a girl in a music box, I spun.
His hands were in his pockets when I rotated halfway around to face him. My perky, perfect breasts—best that money could buy—caught his eye, and I saw hunger there. He skipped down my navel, between my legs, down my exposed thighs. The thought made me hot all over. He said not a word. Just stripped me bare with his gaze.
And when I got back around, he still hadn’t said a word.