A moan escapes my lips as I shift in my sleep, vaguely aware of the throbbing between my legs. I tilt my hips, trying to alleviate the ache, and a soft groan startles me fully awake.
“Faye,” Dion moans, his arms tightening around me, keeping me captive. I’m sprawled all over him, my lips brushing against his chest. One of my legs is wrapped around his hip, almost as though I tried to climb him in my sleep. My heart races as mortification washes over me.
He’s hard, and my movements placed him right between my legs. He’s pushing up against me the way he did when he kissed me, and I’m just as wet as I was then. I never expected to want Dion, and it’s making me feel incredibly conflicted. How could I want someone that I’ve always resented?
“Don’t move, baby,” Dion murmurs, slowly burying one hand in my hair while the other moves down my back. He groans again when he cups my ass, gently rolling his hips into me. “You feel so good.”
More heat rushes through me at his words, and the throbbing intensifies. He sounds so pleased, so satiated. Dion slowly kneads my ass, and I shift against him, my lips moving up his neck, until they’re settled right below his ear. I didn’t mean to move, to rub up against him that way… I did it entirely without thinking.
“Faye,” Dion warns, and I still in his embrace, letting his sleepy voice wash over me. He sighs happily when I relax against him, his breathing slowly evening out again.
When he came to bed last night, he left so much space between us, but somehow, we both ended up in the middle, our bodies entwined. Is this what our mornings will be like once we’re married? I thought I’d hate it, that it’d be even more awkward than it actually is.
Last night, Dion told me I’m nothing like what he expected, but the reverse is true too. I thought that all powerful men are like my father — controlling, aggressive, selfish. Dion is making me wonder if I’m mistaken. When I told him he scares me, I failed to tell him that it isn’t just for the reasons I mentioned. It’s also because he gives me hope, and that’s the one thing I never expected to have.
He shifts a little in his sleep, and I slip out of his embrace carefully, my movements quiet as I get out of bed. The sheets are bunched around his hips, his entire upper body on display for me. I didn’t dare look at him too much last night, but he truly is incredibly muscular. I’ve always known Dion is handsome, but my resentment never allowed me to appreciate it. I tear my gaze away and tiptoe to the bathroom, trying my best to ignore my pounding heart.
I was worried the sound of the shower would wake him, but by the time I walk back into the bedroom, he’s still fast asleep, his arm covering his face. It’s odd to think that I’m marrying him in three months. I spent so much time hating the idea of him that I never stopped to consider the man underneath.
I grab my phone to check the time, and it begins to vibrate in my hand. My stomach drops when I see Eric’s name flash across the screen, and my eyes dart to Dion, but he hasn’t so much as stirred.
I thought Eric had given up on calling me, and in some ways, it brought me relief to no longer see his name in my missed calls. Why is he calling me again? Why now?
I glance back at Dion one more time before quietly slipping through the glass sliding doors that lead to the beach, my heart racing in a different rhythm than before. I sigh in relief when my phone stops ringing, guilt putting me on edge.
I enjoyed being with Dion last night, and for a few hours, I didn’t even think of Eric at all. I was too lost in the moment, and I’m not sure how to feel about that.
My phone buzzes again, and I’m snapped out of my thoughts, realization dawning. I’d been thinking about Dion again.
ERIC
Is it true?
I click on the link he sent me, my stomach dropping when I read the headline in The Herald. They published a photo of Dion holding the car door open for me in front of my house. I didn’t even see any photographers, so how did this happen?
DION WINDSOR ENGAGED TO RENOWNED PIANIST FAYE MATTHEWS
Dion Windsor has been spotted back home in the States more often than usual in recent months, and now we finally know why. A representative of the Windsor family confirmed that Dion is engaged to be married to an old family friend, Faye Matthews. This explains Mr. Windsor’s insistence that we retract the rumors about his secretary and him. Looks like we were right about the wedding bells — just not who they were ringing for.
The elusive billionaire lives in London, but we have it on good authority that he’s back home for the foreseeable future. It appears the Windsor family has Faye to thank for bringing Dion back home. The piano prodigy is one of the world’s youngest concert pianists — an impressive match for the Windsor heir.
Our reporters are working hard on finding out more about Dion and Faye’s relationship, but so far, we’ve come up empty. Surely, there must be a story here. After all, at 22, Faye is a full ten years younger than Dion. It also hasn’t escaped our notice that the pianist has not been spotted with a ring yet. When asked about it, her representatives refused to comment. How utterly scandalous. We’ll continue to dig, and you’ll be the first to read all about it, dear readers.
My heart pounds wildly, my thoughts whirling. Our engagement was kept a secret for years due to my age, much to my father’s dismay. He was certain the Windsors refused to formally acknowledge me as Dion’s fiancée so they could change their mind if I ever stepped out of line. Maybe that’s true, but I suspect it was more about privacy. The Windsors are constantly accosted by the media, and they shielded me from all of that for as long as they could. I always knew it couldn’t last forever, but I didn’t expect our engagement to be announced so suddenly.
My phone rings again, and I hesitate. When Eric and I broke up, he walked away before I had a chance to explain myself. I’d been choking back my sobs, and he’d looked so heartbroken. I know I owe him an explanation, but nothing I can say will make this situation better.
“Hello?”
“Faye,” he says, and my heart begins to ache. It’s been so long since I last heard his voice, and I missed him more than I realized. “Is it true?”
I inhale shakily and stare at the ocean, the sound of waves crashing filling my ears. “Yes,” I admit, my voice breaking. “But it isn’t what you think.”
Eric laughs, the sounds grating. “Throughout our entire relationship, you were engaged to Dion? I know he’s always had a fiancée. Was it you?”
I blink back the tears that are gathering in my eyes and take a deep breath. “It’s something that was arranged by our parents, Eric. Our mothers… they were best friends, and they arranged this when we were kids. He knows I don’t want to marry him, and it’s the same for him. We’re both being forced into this. If… if things were what you think they are, Dion wouldn’t have reacted the way he did that day in the hotel. He wouldn’t have been so calm, so unaffected.”
“Faye,” he murmurs, his voice filled with the same longing I’m feeling. “He wasn’t unaffected. I’ve known Dion for years. I might be a little younger than him, but our fathers were friends, so I know what he’s like. That day… that’s the angriest I’ve ever seen him. Nothing ever fazes him, but the way he looked at us… I should’ve realized it then. His barely restrained anger should’ve clued me in, but maybe I just wanted to be deceived.”
I swallow hard as a tear runs down my cheek. “I n-never meant to deceive you,” I tell him, my tone pleading. “I know it’s hard for you to believe, but every moment between us was real. If I could go back in time, I’d do it again. I wouldn’t trade the memories we made for anything.”
“I wouldn’t either,” he says. “But Faye—”
I gasp when my phone is ripped out of my hand and whirl around to find Dion standing behind me, his eyes blazing with anger. “One chance,” he murmurs, his gaze trailing over my face. “I gave you one single chance, and you blew it.”
“Dion,” I whisper, shocked.
I watch as he ends the call and stares at my phone. “You’d do it all over again if you could?” he asks, his voice soft, pained.
“I… Dion…” I stammer, unsure what to do or say. He asked me to never speak to Eric again, and I let him down. “I just wanted to explain.”
He grabs my chin and tips my face up toward his, his gentle touch in contrast with the anger in his eyes. “Oh yeah?” he murmurs. “You just wanted to explain that you’re being forced to marry me? You just wanted to make it clear that you don’t want me?”
His hand moves into my hair, and he holds me tightly, his touch possessive. “Certainly didn’t fucking seem that way when you moaned against my lips last night, writhing in my lap like you were desperate for my cock. Didn’t really seem that way when I woke up this morning either, with your sweet little body all over mine. Did you think I didn’t realize how fucking wet your pussy was for me? The way you were pressing up against me, like you wanted nothing more than for me to push my cock deep inside you… yeah, it definitely seemed like you didn’t want me.”
Mortification washes over me, and for a moment, I stop thinking clearly, my emotions getting the best of me. “Maybe I just forgot who I was in bed with.”
Dion’s expression contorts in pain for a split-second, before he schools his features. He drags me closer until my body is pressed against his. “You’re testing my patience,” he warns, his eyes dropping to my lips. “Three months until you become my wife, Faye. You have until then to forget about him. If you don’t, you’d better believe I’ll fuck every memory of him out of you, until all you can think of is me. I’ll have you screaming my name, over and over again, and then I’ll make you beg for more.”
I gasp, and he smirks, though there’s no humor in his eyes. Dion gently cups my face, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip. I can feel him harden against my stomach, and my cheeks instantly flush. “Yeah,” he whispers. “I’m gonna fuck you so good, you’ll never want anyone else. Just because this isn’t what we wanted doesn’t mean we can’t make the best of it, Faye. I have every intention of enjoying you.”
He pulls away a little, his gaze dropping to my phone in his hands. He grits his teeth and throws me a withering glare before pulling his arm back and hurling my phone into the ocean. My lips part in shock, my eyes widening.
“I’ll wait three months, but not a second longer. From the moment you take my last name, you’ll be mine. Every fucking inch of you. The sooner you come to terms with it, the better.”
“Are you insane?” I yell, finally snapping out of it. “H-how… how could you?”
He pins me down with a stare and smiles. “Insane? Baby, you don’t know the half of it.”
Then he brushes past me, leaving me staring after him, my heart pounding wildly and my body heated.
