Page 22 of Bound in Ruin

I nod, turning to stare out the window as the city buildings blur past us.

Dominic pulls up to the front doors of the estate, idling the engine. "I won't be staying," he says, his voice strictly business. "I have several meetings to attend for the rest of the day."

It’s been barely two hours since we stood in front of a judge and swore legal vows, but I don't ask where he's going or who he's meeting. It's not my business, and truthfully, I prefer the space.

"All right," I say simply, stepping out of the car. He gives me a brief nod before pulling away down the long driveway.

Inside, the heavy quiet of the estate feels much warmer than it did yesterday. I spend the first half of the day in the kitchen with Helena, drafting a tentative menu for the wedding dinner and listening to her endless bank of stories about the house.

By mid-afternoon, I retreat to the East Wing library. Helena was right—the oversized leather armchair in the corner gets perfect sunlight. I spend hours curled up with a historical novel, letting the quiet atmosphere wash over me, undisturbed by a single guard.

By nighttime, exhaustion finally catches up with me. I make my way back upstairs to the master suite, take a long, hot shower, and slip into my silk pajamas. I button every single button down the front, pull the heavy comforter up to my chin, and sink into the pillows, waiting for sleep to take over.

But sleep doesn’t come before Dominic arrives.

I hear the heavy click of the suite door pushing open, followed by the muffled thud of his feet against the hardwood floor. I instantly lay rigid, locking my muscles into place and refusing to move a single inch.

My heart hammers against my ribs. I am hyper-aware of every sound, every shift in the air as he enters the bedroom. Even though my back is turned to him and I can’t see a thing, I can feel him moving around the room.

I hear the soft rustle of his suit jacket sliding off his shoulders, the unbuckling of his belt, the steady drag of fabric as he sheds his clothes. I have to fight with everything in me just to keep my eyes glued shut and resist the urge to turn around.

It’s infuriating. I haven’t been able to get the image of him stark naked yesterday out of my head, no matter how hard I try.

And no, it’s definitely not because I’m attracted to him. There is absolutely no way I could ever be attracted to an autocrat who dragged me out of bed at dawn and forced me into my own surprise wedding without so much as a warning.

The only reason I’ve been tossing and turning, obsessing over his body, is simply because it’s different. I’ve only ever seen one fully naked man in my entire life—Luciano. And seeing Luciano stripped down was enough to turn me off men forever. Every time he took off his clothes, my stomach churned; I wanted to throw up just looking at him.

But Dominic was completely different. He was built with lethal precision—no loose skin, no soft body fat, just slabs and planes of dense, dangerous muscle.

And then there was his... member. Even half-erect, it was long, unbelievably thick, with a shiny, deep pink head.

Gosh, what on earth am I thinking about?!

I squeeze my eyes shut tighter, digging my fingernails into the bedsheets, my face burning as I try to force my chaotic brain into complete silence.

The bathroom door opens, and the soft rush of air follows as Dominic walks back into the bedroom. A moment later, I hear the familiar wooden slide of the dresser drawers being pulled open.

Déjà vu. Gosh. Just like yesterday.

If I peek right now, will I find him stark naked again? I fight the sudden, ridiculous urge to steal a glance. My body is practically begging me to turn around, despite how fiercely I try to deny it.

What is wrong with me?

Seconds later, the mattress dips heavily under his weight as Dominic slides into bed.

Out of nowhere, his bare leg accidentally brushes against mine under the sheets. The contact sends a sharp, electric jolt straight through me, locking my entire body into rigid shock. I gasp, practically flying toward the edge of the mattress as I yank my leg back, curling it tight against my chest.

The spot where his skin touched mine burns like fire. My face heats up instantly, a sudden, heavy warmth rushing between my legs that leaves me breathless and terrified. I feel like jumping out of bed and running straight to the bathroom to scrub my skin raw just to wash the feeling off.

I snap my head around, scowling at him with all the ferocity I can muster. "Don't touch me!"

He’s completely bare except for a dark pair of briefs, and my goodness—as much as I hate to admit it—he really is a stunningly good-looking man. Every line of his chest and shoulders looks carved out of dark marble under the dim lamp light.

Dominic chuckles, running a hand through his dark hair as he settles against his pillows. His eyes gleam with dangerous amusement.

"You know, just because my leg touched yours doesn't mean you're going to get pregnant, right?" he drawls, his voice low and smooth.

"I don't care!" I snap, clutching the comforter to my chest like a shield. “Don’t touch me.”