I let out a slow sigh, sinking onto the edge of the massive, king-sized bed. The room was stunning—lavish and over-the-top, like something out of a bridal magazine. Candles flickered across every surface, spelling out our names in soft golden light. Rose petals were arranged into a perfect heart at the center of the bed, and sheer lace draped from the canopy like mist.
It was the ideal honeymoon suite.
Except I didn't want to be here.
Not like this. Not with him.
I glanced at the bathroom door again. He'd been in there for over an hour. Who takes that long to shower?
Restless, I stood and began pacing, heels clicking against the marble floor. My heart thudded harder with every passing minute. I fiddled with my hair, trying to keep my hands busy, trying to forget what might—or might not—happen tonight.
I'd made it clear that this marriage was contractual. No emotions, no expectations, no intimacy. But now I was here, alone in a honeymoon suite, wondering what kind of man hides secrets behind charming smirks and tailored suits.
"Ugh," I muttered. "Why won't he just come out already?"
"You know, normal people don't talk to themselves," came the familiar, maddening voice.
I spun around.
Klaus stood in the doorway, steam curling behind him. His brown hair was wet, drops of water trailing down his chiseled chest. A white towel clung low around his hips. His skin glistened under the candlelight, and I hated that I noticed.
And that he noticed me noticing.
"Were you just checking me out?" He asked with that arrogant smirk I'd grown to despise—and secretly understand too well.
"What? No! Ugh—put on some clothes, would you? And what took you so long?" I snapped, turning away.
"Lectures again?" he sighed dramatically. "You really do know how to kill the mood. I had a better use for our mouths, you know… less talking."
My heart skipped a beat. "Wh—what are you implying?"
He grinned and walked past me, heading toward his phone on the nightstand. "Relax. I know how to spice things up."
A second later, Justin Bieber's "What Do You Mean?" blared from his phone. Klaus twirled like a maniac, towel swinging dangerously as he lip-synced with full performance energy.
I stared, horrified. "Shut up! Turn that off before your towel betrays us both!"
"Make me," he said with a teasing wink, holding the phone high above his head.
I lunged for it, but he was too tall—too fast. I stretched onto my toes, struggling, when suddenly the slick marble betrayed me.
I slipped.
He caught me.
One arm around my waist, the other steadying my fall. My hands clutched his shoulders, and for a moment, we froze—just breathing. His eyes locked on mine, startlingly blue, maddeningly close.
"God, I'm handsome," he whispered smugly.
I snapped out of it. "Put me down!"
"Your wish," he said, releasing me without warning.
I crashed to the floor. "You jerk!"
"You said, 'Let you go.' I just followed instructions."
Fuming, I scrambled up and started hitting him on the chest. "Jerk! Asshole!"
He blocked my hands with ease, laughing. "Why do you always do this? You say one thing, but your eyes say another."
"Excuse me?"
"You say you hate me, but your heart's still catching up."
"Oh, please." I folded my arms. "I'm over you. This is a contract. A deal. A transaction."
"Sure it is." He took a step forward. "Then look me in the eye and tell me you feel nothing."
"Nothing," I said—too quickly, too breathlessly.
"Really?" He moved closer.
I stepped back.
He followed.
Again. And again. Until my back hit the wall and there was nowhere left to run.
He placed both hands on either side of my head, caging me in. His voice dropped.
"And when I touch you?" His hand slipped around my waist.
My breath caught.
Damn it. Why did he always have this effect on me?
I was supposed to hate him.
Not… this.
Not him.
Not anymore.