The Billionaire Serpent King's Bride

Chapter 7

Lucien’s POV

I knocked. Twice. The silence on the other side of the door made my patience snap, so I pushed it open.

Steam and lavender hit me first. Then her. She stood with her back to me, towel clinging to damp skin, hair dark and heavy against her shoulders. I opened my mouth to speak, but the words died when she turned.

The towel slipped. It slid down her body in one slow motion, baring everything. Full breasts, tight n*****s, the smooth plane of her stomach, the soft swell of her hips. My c**k jerked hard inside my pants, blood rushing south so fast my head spun. I couldn’t look away. Didn’t want to. My fingers twitched at my sides, aching to touch, to grab, to claim.

She froze, eyes wide with shock. I saw the tremor run through her thighs, the way her breath caught. My jaw locked. Every muscle in my body went rigid with the effort not to step forward and bury my face between her legs right there.

I forced my feet to move. Bent down. The fallen towel was warm from her skin. I picked it up slowly, rising inch by inch. My knuckles grazed her calf, then the back of her thigh. She shivered. I kept going, dragging my fingertips higher, feeling the curve of her ass, the dip of her lower back. Heat flooded my c**k until it strained painfully against my zipper.

I stepped closer. My hands smoothed the towel upward, palms brushing the sides of her breasts as I wrapped it around her. My thumbs grazed the undersides, feeling her n*****s pebble tighter. A low sound rumbled in my chest before I swallowed it down.

She still hadn’t spoken. Her cheeks were flushed, lips parted. I reached up, sliding two fingers under her chin, tilting her face until her eyes met mine. Her skin felt impossibly soft. My thumb stroked once along her jaw while I fought the urge to crush my mouth to hers.

“You are beautiful,” I said, voice rough. I bit my lower lip hard, tasting blood, using the sting to leash the hunger roaring through me. My free hand gestured down the length of her body, tracing the air just above the towel. “I can’t wait for you to be my wife so I can have all of that.”

My eyes followed the gesture, breasts, waist, hips, thighs memorizing every inch I’d just touched. My c**k throbbed again, insistent. I wanted to rip the towel away, press her back against the wall, and f**k her until she screamed my name. Instead I held still, fingers firm beneath her chin, letting her see the raw need in my stare without hiding it.

Her pulse jumped visibly at her throat. I wanted to lean in and taste it. I didn’t. I stayed exactly where I was, breathing her in, letting the moment stretch until the only sound was the thunder of our hearts and the ragged edge of my breathing.

I cleared my throat, voice still thick. "I came to tell you food is ready." I turned, forcing my feet toward the door. "I'll wait downstairs."

The door clicked shut behind me, leaving the scent of her skin and the ache in my c**k to follow me down the hall.

I stood there with the door handle still warm under my palm, trying to breathe through the storm raging in my chest. The image of her naked, startled, flushed from the shower burned behind my eyes like it had been seared there. My c**k throbbed against the front of my trousers, hard and insistent, and I had to clench my fists to keep from turning around and going back in.

I had touched her. Just barely. My fingers had grazed the soft skin of her thigh when I picked up that towel, and the heat of her body had nearly undone me. I wanted to run my hands over every inch of her, to map the curves I had only glimpsed, to bury my face between her legs and taste what I had been craving for years. But I had promised myself I would wait. She had just ended things with that bastard, and the last thing she needed was me losing control like some animal.

Still, the sight of her p***y smooth, glistening from the shower kept flashing through my mind. Her breasts, full and perfect, n*****s tight from the cool air. The way her stomach trembled when she realized I was looking. I bit down harder on my lip, tasting blood, and forced my feet to carry me down the stairs.

I could still feel the ghost of her skin on my fingertips. I wanted to go back up there, push her onto that bed, and f**k her until she forgot every other man who had ever touched her. Until she screamed my name and came around my c**k so hard she forgot how to breathe. But not yet. Not until she was mine in every way that mattered.

I reached the bottom of the stairs and paused, running a hand through my hair. My erection still hadn't gone down. I adjusted myself with a frustrated growl, then headed toward the sitting room to wait. She would come down eventually. And when she did, I would keep my hands to myself. I would be patient. I would be the man she deserved.

Even if every cell in my body screamed at me to claim her right f*****g now.

My pulse hammered against my ribs as I forced myself to keep walking, the image of her flushed skin seared into my mind. The way her chest rose and fell beneath that slipping towel made my throat tighten with need.

I could still feel the warmth radiating from her body, the faint tremor in her muscles when she realized I was there. Every step away from her room felt like a battle against my own instincts. The echo of her startled gasp followed me down the hallway, refusing to fade.