Pretender to the Throne(39)

                Which meant he would be sleeping with her.

                Her hands shook as she did up the zipper at the back of the dress. She’d sort of bet on dying a virgin. She wasn’t thrilled with it, really, but she hadn’t seen another way.

                The idea of being with him... She wanted him. No point in denying it. She just wished she was certain he wanted her.

                She opened the bathroom door and stepped out into the bedroom. She caught sight of herself in the reflection of the mirror just behind the bed, behind Xander, and froze for a moment. The dress was...well, it was much more revealing than anything she’d worn in ages. And more sophisticated than the saucy dresses she’d chosen as a teenage girl.

                It was black, with a neckline that plunged down to the middle of her chest. “I would need duct tape,” she said, looking at her breasts, which were attempting to make an escape. The chiffon fabric skimmed her curves and fell to the floor in a ripple, flowing as she moved. It was nearly demure, understated. If not for that neckline.

                She looked to Xander and realized that his focus was also on her breasts, not that she should be terribly surprised. Because he was a man. Still, she was surprised because he was a man who was looking at her. And she was even more surprised because far from being offended, it made her feel warm and a little bit excited.

                “What do you think?” she asked.

                “I like it,” he said, his voice rough.

                “It’s...not anything like what I would normally wear.”

                “No, and that’s a good thing. You aren’t wearing one of those flowered monstrosities to our engagement party.”

                “But...people will look at me.”

                “Yes,” he said, his voice rough. “I imagine they will.”

                “I don’t want them to look at me,” she said.

                “But they will, agape. You’re to be the princess, one day their queen. You were a woman they all cared about, a woman they adored, back when you were first engaged to be married to me. Their eyes will be on you no matter what you wear. Better that when they look they see a woman with confidence.”

                “But I don’t think I have any,” she said.

                He moved to her. “You should.”

                “Why?”

                “Because you are the woman most deserving of the crown. You should hold your head high if only for that reason.”

                He lifted his hand and reached behind her, taking hold of the pins in her hair and releasing the hair from its bun, letting it fall around her face in soft waves. He had touched her hair before, and it had been an oddly sensual experience. His touch, combined with the intense expression on his face, was taking things somewhere beyond sensual now.

                He was making her knees kind of weak. Making it hard to breathe.

                But he didn’t even think she was beautiful.

                “We should practice,” he said.

                “Practice what?”

                “They’ll expect us to dance.”

                “Will they?”