Chapter 315: The Wedding Night (2)

After removing her makeup, Catherine stepped into the shower. Yet even beneath the warm spray, her eyes kept drifting toward the bathroom door.

She was waiting for it to open.

It wasn’t even an unreasonable expectation. Maximilian had joined her in the shower before. That man had never been particularly good at keeping his hands off her.

But tonight, of all nights—their wedding night—he had suddenly decided to be a gentleman?

She wanted to kill him.

Outside the bathroom, Maximilian stood with his hand hovering over the doorknob. He knew Catherine was exhausted. She had spent the entire day in heels, smiling, dancing, greeting people, and pretending she wasn’t running on nerves and adrenaline.

She needed sleep. At least, that was what he told himself.

Then his gaze fell on the vanity. One of the drawers was slightly open.

His curiosity got the better of him. It was the drawer Catherine never let him touch, which naturally made him want to know what was inside even more.

He pulled it open.

His brows lifted. A white lace garment lay inside.

He picked it up between two fingers, staring at it with growing disbelief. Was this really supposed to qualify as a dress?

No.

It was lingerie.

His throat went dry.

Was she planning to wear this tonight?

The image of Catherine in it appeared in his mind with such vividness that he immediately regretted having an imagination.

Heat rushed through him, and his jaw tightened.

Well. Perhaps sleep could wait until morning. This was their wedding night, after all.

He undressed outside the bathroom and stepped into the shower.

Catherine felt the door move. Her lips curved before she could stop them.

Then warmth surrounded her from behind, and she felt his familiar presence slip into the small space with her.

She turned slightly, trying to sound casual despite the sudden flutter in her stomach.

“What are you doing here?”

“Saving water.”

She barely had time to roll her eyes before he kissed her cheek.

His bare chest settled against her wet back, and Catherine’s breath caught. The heat of him seemed to seep straight through the water and into her skin.

His fingers moved slowly, almost lazily.

Her shoulder.

Her jaw.

Her cheek.

The corner of her lips.

Each touch lingered just long enough to make her wonder where he would touch next.

Then his lips brushed the delicate curve of her ear.

“Let me wash your hair.”

Catherine opened her eyes and frowned.

Her hair?

Shampoo?

Was he seriously going to behave himself?

Maximilian caught the little pout forming on her lips and smiled. He gathered her wet hair in his hands and began working the shampoo through it, his fingers massaging her scalp with surprising tenderness.

Catherine’s irritation melted despite herself.

She turned around.

“Let me help you.”

She reached for the shampoo and gestured for him to bend down.

Maximilian obediently lowered himself to her height. Catherine worked her fingers through his long hair, enjoying the rare sight of him completely relaxed beneath her hands.

Then she noticed his gaze.

It wasn’t on her face.

It was lower.

She immediately crossed her arms over herself.

“What are you looking at?”

His mouth curved. “Bouncy bouncy.”

Her face went scarlet.

This man.

She turned away before he could see the smile she was desperately trying to hide.

She loved this shameless, perverted man. She loved the way he looked at her as though every part of her fascinated him. As though he could never quite get enough of her.

When they finished with their hair, Maximilian reached for the soap.

His hands moved over her skin with unhurried familiarity, lingering whenever he sensed her body respond. Catherine tried to pretend she wasn’t affected, but every gentle stroke seemed to awaken something beneath her skin.

By the time they stepped out of the shower, the warmth in her body had little to do with the water.

She turned toward him, expecting a kiss. Instead, Maximilian wrapped a towel around her.

“Let’s get your hair dried first.”

Catherine stared at him. “What?”

He looked genuinely innocent.

She narrowed her eyes. “Are you really going to let me rest?”

Something changed in his expression.

Maximilian stepped closer.

His eyes held hers as he leaned down, close enough that she could feel his breath against her skin. His hand settled at the small of her back, warm and steady, drawing her nearer.

Catherine’s eyelids fluttered shut.

Finally.

His lips were so close she could almost feel the kiss before it happened.

Then his voice came, low and amused. “All you had to do was say, ‘No, Maximilian. I’m not tired. Let’s consummate our wedding.'”

Catherine’s eyes flew open. “What?”

His smirk deepened.

And suddenly she understood.

He knew. He had known all along.

Heat flooded her face. She shoved him away and hurried toward the vanity, pretending she desperately needed to find something to wear.

Behind her came his amused voice.

“I like this one.”

She froze.

Maximilian held up the white lace lingerie.

“Stop it!”

She buried her burning face against the wall.

He was still completely naked, apparently possessing not a single ounce of shame, as he walked toward her.

He leaned closer.

“It’s not wrong to desire your husband, wife.”

Catherine turned to face him. “But it’s embarrassing to be the one with the most desire between us.”

Maximilian blinked. “There is such a thing?”

“Yes.” She lowered her eyes.

He stared at her for a moment before his expression softened. “But I am the one with the most desire.”

Catherine looked up. “Then why were you willing to let me rest?”

“Did you think I was rejecting you?” His voice had lost its teasing edge.

Catherine hesitated. “I know you weren’t. But…” She swallowed. “It felt like it. A little.”

Maximilian sighed and rested his forehead against her shoulder. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then he lifted his head. “Shall we start from the beginning?”

Catherine looked at him. Her lips curved despite the embarrassment.

They had both been ridiculous.

They were married. They loved each other. They had spent an entire day celebrating the fact that they had finally become husband and wife.

What was there to measure? What was there to be embarrassed about?

She took a breath.

“Wait on the bed.”

Maximilian’s eyes darkened with amusement. He kissed her, then helped her dry her hair while Catherine tried not to smile.

Once she was done, she pushed him toward the bedroom. He laughed, wrapped a towel around his waist, and went to the bed.

Catherine remained by the vanity. Her gaze fell on the white lace babydoll. She had chosen it for tonight. Her fingers tightened around the fabric.

For one brief, mortifying moment, she considered abandoning the entire idea.

Then she remembered the way Maximilian had looked at her. She slipped it on. Her cheeks burned as she stood before the mirror, but she forced herself to breathe.

This was her husband. Her wedding night. She could do this.

Catherine stepped into the bedroom.

Maximilian looked up.

For a moment, he didn’t move.

His eyes traveled over her, and something in his expression made Catherine’s heart stumble. The playful teasing disappeared, replaced by something deeper—something hungry, reverent, and unmistakably hers.

Then he slowly curled his fingers, beckoning her toward him.

Catherine’s heart began to pound.

She took one step closer.

Then another.

This is it… isn’t it?

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