Roman has one arm wrapped around the back of my chair while his other hand can’t seem to stop touching me. From small brushes against my arm to full-on grabbing my thigh under the table. They’re all possessive yet soft. Even when it’s just moving a strand of my hair off my shoulder. He has some sort of obsession with my hair. A few times I even caught him smelling it.

“Your hair reminds me of the sun. I hope our daughters have it,” he says, as if reading my thoughts.

I turn to look at him, the sweetness of his words making me feel warm all over. He leans in, taking my lips in a slow kiss before pulling back. I can tell he’s fighting control. He wants to take the kiss deeper.

“You like it? I’ve always thought it made me look different from the rest of my family,” I admit. “I’ve thought about dyeing it.”

“I forbid it.” He doesn’t say it like a demand, more as if he’s in shock at the thought of me doing anything to change myself. “It’s the first thing about you that caught my attention. I thought you looked bright, full of life. I wanted that.”

My mouth falls open a little, and his eyes catch the motion. He licks his own lips as if he’s trying to remember what I taste like.

“You seem so dark,” I admit, scooting a little closer to him. Not that there is much space to begin with. He’d already pulled my chair right up next to his. I reach up and touch his face, and he leans into my touch.

“Maybe that’s why I need your light.”

“That’s incredibly sweet.” I smile at him as tears burn the back of my eyes. He doesn’t seem anything like I first thought he would be.

Suddenly he’s picking me up and putting me on his lap.

“Oh God.” I bury my face in his neck, knowing my cheeks are probably flaming red. We are sitting at the front of the room while the wedding party is in full swing. Roman said there would be no first dance, and the party just started. I was happy about that. I didn’t like the idea of getting up and dancing with only the two of us on the dance floor. He said he didn’t like the idea of everyone looking at me moving around in this wedding dress. I didn’t even know what that meant.

He runs his hand along my back. “It was either put you in my lap or pull you out of here. I don’t like when your eyes fill with tears. It does something to me, something I don’t like.”

I snort against him. My snort turns into a laugh, and I can’t stop giggling. “You mean you don’t like emotions.” I can barely get the words out through my laughter, and I lean back to look at him. He’s giving me a giant smile.

“That feels good. I like your laughter against me.”

“How do you do that, seem so cold one second and warm the next?”

“Am I cold with you? I don’t mean to be. All I feel when I’m around you is the need to be closer. The need to have you. When you’re close, I feel…” He pauses as if he’s looking for the right word. “Whole.”

A rush of love for this man courses through me. I’m floored that this warrior-like man needs me to feel whole. I try to think about when he’s been cold to me, but when I replay in my head the times we’ve spent together, I realize he hasn’t been cold at all. He’s been intense. His one mission has been clear. He wants me. Even thinking back to the first day when I thought he was being a jerk, he wasn’t. He was worried about me. Wanted me near him. Everything I’ve asked for, he’s given me instantly. Unless it was to have distance from him.

No, the cold is something I got from all the things I’d read about him.

“They call you The Wall.” I glance over my shoulder, looking at the room filled with people. I notice a ton of people look away as I do it. Clearly they’ve all been staring at us. “Everyone is looking at us,” I mutter, more to myself than to him.

“I know they are staring at us. It was part of why I put you in my lap. I don’t like it when they look at you.”

It’s then I see someone I recognize—Princess Kaul. I’d seen her in a picture with Roman. They looked like they’d been on a date.

“You invited your ex?” I say harshly. I’m sure he has exes, but why would he invite one to our wedding? Maybe he has to invite her because of her royal status. Heck, he probably didn’t even have a hand in the guest list. But I still don’t like it, and suddenly I’m feeling very possessive of my husband. I grab on to his shirt.

“Who?” he queries, looking over my shoulder. “I don’t know what you are talking about. I don’t have an ex.”

“Princess Kaul.”

“I’ll ask you again, my queen. Who?”

“You don’t know who Princess Kaul is? I saw you in a picture with her at the Ruther charity dinner a few months ago.”

He smiles at my words. He looks down at where I’ve got his shirt clenched in my hands, and his smile grows.

“I have to say, I like that you get as worked up about the idea of me on a date as I’ve gotten about you having other men—men who might have called for your hand in marriage.”

I let go of his shirt and start to get off his lap, but he has a hold on me and I can’t go anywhere.

“I did not recall Princess Kaul when you said her name. But I do remember sitting next to her at the dinner. She was boring and didn’t even snort when she laughed. I promise you, I forgot her the moment I left that table—a table that had assigned seating at an event I went to alone. Like I always do. I don’t have time to go on silly dates with women who I know will only annoy me and drive me crazy.” He runs a finger along my neck. “Well, I used to go alone. I won’t have to go alone any longer, my queen.”

“I can’t stop the snorting when I laugh. I tried because it drives my mom crazy. I’m kind of a goof. You’ve seen my sister and me together.”

“I’d never wish you to change such things. Every time you snort I smile. And you and your sister are adorable together.” He leans in, kissing my neck. “You’re so soft.”

“Roman, we’re in a room full of people,” I remind him breathlessly. “They are all watching us.”

“Yes, they are watching The Wall crumble for his queen.”