The Deception (Filthy Rich Americans 3)

Well, there was that one time when it hadn’t.

The night I’d agreed to play his father’s game in the maze, Royce had come back to his room and ransacked the place. Vance had called it a temper tantrum, but there wasn’t any evidence of it now. The white linens on the king-sized bed were crisp. The silver silk curtains which hung over the enormous floor to ceiling windows were flawless. The charcoal gray couch looked brand-new. Maybe it was.

I stood awkwardly in the center of his bedroom as Royce toed off his shoes and shrugged out of his suit coat before tossing it onto one of the pale gray chairs opposite the couch. His gaze locked onto me as his fingers loosened his tie and undid the top button of his collar.

“Have a seat.” Amusement edged into his voice. “Stay awhile.”

“Where?” I asked.

I was out of sorts here in this place that was his and not ours. Should I sit on the couch? The bed? It wasn’t helping that he was currently undressing either. He untucked and unbuttoned his shirt, opening it to reveal a tight white undershirt that clung to his chest and trim waist.

He angled his head and shot me a look like I was being silly. “Wherever you want.”

His cuffs were unbuttoned, one side then the other, then off came the dress shirt. His practiced, methodical movements made me want to bite my lip. He wasn’t even shirtless yet. Why was this doing things to me? Why did my body clench with anticipation? And how in the world did he look even better halfway out of his suit?

“Will this be our room?” I asked. “I mean, when we’re married. Or will we be keeping separate rooms like your father and . . .”

I struggled to say her name, but it was clear I didn’t need to. He paused, and the intensity ratcheted up in his eyes. “It’s whatever you want.”

I pressed my lips together, unsure. I’d always assumed when I was married, I’d share a bed with my spouse, the way most people did. The way my parents did.

Rather than make the decision, I sent it back to him. “What do you want?”

He turned his head and cast his gaze toward the bed, which suddenly seemed both inviting and scary at the same time. Something suspiciously like hope colored his voice. “We should try it.”

“Okay,” I breathed.

Before I could say anything else, he reached behind his back, grabbed a fistful of his t-shirt, and pulled it over his head, revealing the sculpture of his chest and powerful arms. Thoughts vaporized from my brain at the sight. Subtly notched muscles ran down his stomach and disappeared beneath the waistband of his underwear, which rode a half inch higher than his suit pants.

I was irritated with myself. I wasn’t supposed to be one of those girls who fell apart around Royce, but it happened anyway. My gaze traced every inch of him, from the silver watch on one wrist to the pronounced line his collarbones drew across his defined chest.

“I should warn you,” he said as he turned and walked away, wordlessly encouraging me to follow him. “I don’t know how that’s going to go.”

His socked feet carried him into the bathroom and deeper still into his enormous walk-in closet, the suits organized by color on one side, his casual clothes on the other, and the back was a wall of shoes and accessories. I stood at the entryway, leaning against the doorframe as he peeled off his socks and tossed them into a hamper.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

His intense eyes didn’t give me a clue of what was going on behind them. “I’ve never had a girl in my bed.”

Surprise coasted down through me. “Like, for sleeping?”

“For anything.” He worked to unlatch the belt at his waist, but his gaze remained on me. I was captured prey he didn’t want to escape, but that was silly. Didn’t he know I wasn’t going anywhere? His face contorted with an emotion I wasn’t used to seeing from him. Was he . . . shy? “I didn’t bring anyone back to my room. This is supposed to be my space, where I can be me.”

My pulse sped. “You brought me here after we went out the first time.”

A smile hinted in his eyes. “You’d already agreed to be my wife.”

A thrill shot through me. He’d been my first in so many things. I was excited to be his too, at least in some way. I swallowed thickly as his fly was undone and his pants fell around his ankles, leaving him clad only in a pair of underwear. The tight gray trunks hugged him and left little to the imagination.

My thighs tightened. “So, what you’re saying is . . . I’ll get to see this show you’re putting on right now every night.”