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And why was I so stressed out about it?
“Ivan?” I called one more time and nothing. I gripped the door handle and slowly clicked open the door. It was completely dark. If I stepped in blood or saw a body part, I was murdering him all over again.
What was I even thinking?
That would be horrible. Truly horrible. I was losing it, maybe going as crazy as Ivan under all the pressure and I’d been married to him less than twenty-four hours.
I shuffled over to the massive bed and slowly peered over, I should have brought my cell so I could see better, but I managed to lean down.
His head was still attached, so that was a good sign, I didn’t smell blood, and nothing looked out of place that I could actually make out.
His face was calm, almost like he had a more peaceful sleep than me the bastard, his eyes were closed, full lips were pressed together in an almost smirk.
Quiet, I could handle him.
I licked my lips and stared at his neck.
I shouldn’t have.
Who had veins in their neck anyway? And why was it more noticeable in the dark?
I scowled when he suddenly snatched my wrist and pulled me against the bed until our faces were inches apart. “Disappointed?”
I didn’t even try to shake free from his grasp; he was the sort of guy who liked it more when you fought back, and I was the sort of girl to do exactly that every single time no matter what.
It’s probably what made us hate each other to begin with. I was annoyed that he pushed me; he was annoyed he liked it; I was annoyed when he didn’t.
I was confusing even myself.
“No.” I leaned down until my mouth almost grazed his. “Did you have sweet nightmares?”
“Ahhh…” He didn’t touch my face, but he did lean in until his tongue accidentally hit my bottom lip because he was licking his. “I did, there was a woman on top of me, and then she said I couldn’t touch her, a monster walked in, and I had nothing but pain instead of pleasure. It was horrible. I might have scars for life.”
“Be careful what you wish for.” I smirked.
He paused. The air seemed to heat between our mouths as he gently tugged me onto the bed, careful to pull me to the other side of him. “I wish for a lot of things.”
“You can’t touch me.”
“Did I say I was going to?”
He’d dropped my wrist, but we both knew what touch meant, it wasn’t a simple hug or hand hold, it was something much more intimate.
His right hand moved to cup my cheek. “And you? Did you have sweet nightmares or vivid dreams of blood spilled across this expensive floor?”
“Oh, I dreamed of blood, yours specifically.”
“That’s lovely.”
“It was graphic.”
“Death mostly is.” Ivan grinned. “Does it make you feel better, though? Dreaming of a world without me?”
I hesitated. I wasn’t one to hesitate.
He leaned up on his side.
I tried to look away.
