“I am not flying off the handle!” I yell at him. “And I am not having crazy thoughts. These are valid thoughts.”

“Then tell me what these damn thoughts are and quit your squawking.”

“Squawking?” I repeat, my voice going higher.

“Yeah, you sound like a fucking chicken right now.”

“Fuck you!”

“That’s right,” he says, gritting his teeth into a wolfish smile. “Yell. Swear. Lay it on me if it makes you feel better.” His hand goes to the back of my neck, gripping me there. “The only thing you really need is some good hard dick.”

I stare at him, my mouth dropping open. “What?”

“You heard me,” he says, his heated gaze going to my lips, the grip on my neck growing tighter. “You need to be royally and thoroughly fucked. That’s your biggest problem. That’s why you’re so snappish and tense tonight.”

“Of course you would assume every problem can be solved by sex,” I sneer at him, trying to ignore the heat building in my core.

“I think your problem can be,” he says. “And I’m more than up for the job.”

With his free hand he takes my wrist and places my palm flat against his erection. My breath hitches as I feel how hard and warm he is, and my hand instinctively grips his length, which brings out a low moan from him that I feel reverberate down my spine.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe this is exactly what I need.

Him.

Inside me.

But no. No, I’m still mad. I’m still mad that he slept with that crazy girl even before he met me, I’m still mad that his mother told me those things, like she has zero faith in his feelings for me, feelings that I’m not even sure exist. I’m still mad…

“Question time,” he murmurs as he leans in and slowly brushes his lips against the rim of my ear. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

I swallow. The pressure between my legs is indescribable.

“Answer carefully,” he murmurs, the heat of his breath and growl of his voice sending shivers from my head to my toes. “I’ll find out the truth in a second. I can practically smell how fucking wet you are.”

His mouth goes to my earlobe, nipping it between his teeth and giving it a tug that makes tiny explosions go off around my body.

Oh, god.

“What was the question again?” I whisper, my eyes rolling back.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” he says into my skin as his lips slowly slide down my neck, setting me on fire. “Princess?”

“You tell me,” I manage to say, playing the game, wanting it so damn badly.

Because yes, I want to be fucked. By him.

Roughly.

Royally.

Fucked.

And now I’m mad that I can’t stay mad at him.

“I like this version of you,” he says, stooping over slightly to place his hands under my dress and slowly slide them up my inner thighs, just as he did yesterday. The heat from his wide palms makes me feel like I’m about to combust right here on the spot.

“We shouldn’t do this here,” I manage to say, already feeling dizzy and breathless as his hands go higher

“It’s already started,” he says. “Can’t be stopped. You said for me to push you, so I’m pushing you.”

His hands slide up and up and now I know he can feel how wet I am. The sensation of his skin against mine makes my world spin.

“Helvete,” he swears, his voice hoarse. “You’re soaked. And you’re not even wearing underwear.”

“I didn’t want pantylines with this dress. I—” My words fail me as he slides one long finger right over my swollen flesh. I moan, unable to keep composed and my hands grip his arms to keep myself steady. “Magnus,” I gasp.

“Fuck, yes. I love hearing my name like this,” he says gruffly, taking a nibble of my neck. “I don’t think I ever want to hear anything else.”

He slowly begins to rub the tip of his finger over my clit.

My body feels like it’s going to explode. “Figures you’d love the sound of your own name,” I say, trying to catch my breath.

“Only when your cunt is drenching my fingers like this,” he says in a near growl. I have to admit, his dirty talk caught me off-guard yesterday but it’s definitely starting to have an effect on me.

A good effect.

The kind that makes me want to give in, to be absolutely wild and free with this man. To be the person I’ve been afraid to let loose.

To be completely uninhibited.

Completely his.

“Kiss me,” I whisper.

He raises his head and looks at me in surprise before a wicked smile curls the edges of his mouth.

He does as he’s told.

The kiss is far more than I remembered from the other day. It almost knocks me off my feet, my heels starting to wobble. His tongue is insatiable, explicit, as it thrusts into my mouth hungrily, his lips crazed and needy. It’s wet and violent and makes the want inside me throb, tighter, harder. His hand at my head is gripping my hair as if he’s holding on for dear life and each tug shoots fire down my nerves. Every part of my being feels alive, soaking it all in, desperate for more of his touch, more of him, more of everything.

He pulls back half an inch, just for a second, just enough time to let out a moan while his other hand holds my face captive. His heavy-lidded gaze fixates on my eyes, then my lips, as if I’m some sort of apparition.

Then I grab the lapels of his tux and yank his lips back to mine. The need in me builds and builds and I’m dying to wrap my legs around him, to feel every inch, to feel his want for me. I think I whimper. I gasp. I kiss him with the same kind of abandon as he’s kissing me with, his mouth devouring me as if wanting to swallow me whole.

The sound of footsteps echoing on the stairs makes us both freeze. My heart is pounding so loud, I wish I could quiet it.

Shadows appear on the walls of the curved stairwell and Magnus quickly takes my hand and pulls me into another darkened room full of paintings. From here no one can see us.

Whether they can hear us or not, that’s another story.

“Magnus,” I whisper, but he places his palm over my mouth.

“Shhh.” His eyes are wicked as he stares at me. “We have to be quiet.”

He pushes me up against the wall between two Edvard Munch paintings as his lips close gently around my earlobe, teeth razing my skin, the heat from his breath lighting firecrackers down the expanse of my neck. His hand falls away from my mouth and his fingers curl around the edge of my dress, pulling the silky fabric up over my hips so it’s bunched around my waist. I’m between both of his warm, strong hands and he stares down at my nakedness.

He licks his lips and I want him to put those lips between my legs, I want to make him do what he did to me yesterday. But I’m also dying to finally feel what he feels like inside me. A little bit scared, too.

His grip on my hips intensifies. He lifts me up effortlessly, placing me back against the cold wall, and moves forward between my legs, my heels hooking around the back of his thighs.

He places his hands on either side of my face, holding me in place, his nostrils flaring as he breathes in hard. It’s as if he’s trying to restrain himself, and I want him to let go and unleash it all on me, everything that he has.

It’s all come to this moment.

All come to this.

A line between his brows deepens as he tries to drink me in with his intense eyes. I’m holding my breath, wanting so much, and he keeps searching me, trying to read me.

Just take me, I want to say. Fuck me here. Fuck me wild.

My mouth parts, the words teasing on my tongue.

Fuck me wild.

The old Ella would never think that.

The new Ella is engaged.

And she knows what she has.

She knows what she wants.

His eyes drop to my lips and his gaze burns both brighter and darker, carnal and hungry. I see the restraints inside him let loose.

Magnus pulls my face forward and his lips crash against mine, fevered, crazed and wilder than before. His hands sink into my hair and my hands fumble for the buttons on his shirt, desperate for his skin. Our mouths are lost to each other in a race, a battle, where both of us win. It’s breathless, greedy. It’s a battle for our bodies and souls.

My toes curl.

My heart somersaults.

I’m pressed back between two priceless paintings, drowning under the onslaught of his tongue, each hot, torrid stroke inside my mouth making me absolutely drenched. I feel wet to my thighs and he must know it too.

I’m starting to slip just a bit so I wrap my legs further around his waist eagerly, and he presses up against me. We both moan into each other’s mouths. He’s as hard as cement and pressing against me in all the right places. With just the slightest movement, the fabric of his pants brushes over my clit and I almost lose my mind.

One hand makes a fist in my hair, tugging at it, messing it up, while his lips bruise me, our mouths messy and hard, teeth hitting teeth in our uncontrollable need to devour each another right here, right now. In the middle of a museum at a gala meant for us?

Sure, why not?

This is Magnus we’re talking about.

And I’m absolutely crazed for this beautiful man.

My fiancé.

My Prince.

With his white shirt unbuttoned, I drag my nails over the hard planes of his chest and the edges of his tattoos. I reach down to the waistband of his pants and undo the button, while his mouth goes for my neck again, sucking, biting, and I throw my head back to give him better access.

I deftly undo the button and zip down his fly before sliding my hand over his hardness. Holy shit. He’s not wearing underwear either. The long, heated length of him pulses beneath my palm and he lets out a low, rough growl that vibrates down my spine.

“Oh, Ella,” he groans, breathing hard into my neck. “I’m already going to explode.”

“So am I,” I tell him. He’s so fucking huge, and just touching his cock is bringing me to the edge. I don’t know how I’ll survive it inside of me—it’s been so long since I last had sex with someone—but I am more than willing to try.