Free The Inherited Bride by Maisey Yates

situation, made her feel physically ill. She felt sorry for the woman who loved him. He said he didn’t want to get married, but her brother hadn’t wanted to get married again, and all it had taken was the right woman. The right woman would find Adham, but
her
life would be a misery of worry. She could picture Adham’s wife, curled up in bed alone, wondering if that night was the night her husband would never return.
    Isabella’s heart lurched into her throat. When the picture in her mind had sharpened, the woman she’d seen sitting in bed in the dark, her knees drawn up to her chest, had been
her.
    She blinked and turned her focus back to the movie, back to the story unfolding in front of them, and for a while she was carried away by the beautiful classic romance.
    But when the hero finally kissed the heroine she was reminded of what it had felt like when Adham’s lips had moved over hers, his tongue sliding against hers, the friction making her nipples tighten and her breasts ache. Like they were doing right at that moment.
    She took a piece of popcorn from the tub and his fingers brushed hers. A short gasp escaped her lips, and she shot him another quick look to make sure he hadn’t heard. If he had, he certainly wasn’t showing it.
    Why did he have to appeal to her so much? Why couldn’t her chaperon be short, fat and completely horrible? Why did he have to be this enigma of a man who called to everything feminine inside her?
    Adham had opened up a new world of fantasies and desires—made her ache for things she’d never wanted before.
    It was pointless and cruel. She didn’t even have the hope of a brief romance with him, let alone a happily ever after.
    She looked at his hands, curled around the shared armrest that sat between them. She examined those scars again. She doubted a brief, light romance with a man like him would even be possible. He was the sort of man who would give nothing or everything. There wouldn’t be much in between. And she … she would only be able to give everything. And she would want everything in return. An impossible situation even without the ring on her finger.
    His hand brushed hers again and she nearly jumped out of her skin. Attraction, she was discovering, wasabout a lot more than butterflies in your stomach. It could be all-consuming, a need as elemental and necessary as food or drink. It was quickly becoming that way for her.
    Curiosity. That was all it was. It had to be. After all, she’d never really felt drawn to a man like this before. All of the men she’d met at galas and balls and parties had been … insipid. Especially when she compared them to Adham.
    Maybe if she were to meet another man like Adham she would feel the same way. Maybe she simply had a type. Except there wasn’t another man to equal him. She was certain of that.
    When the credits finally rolled on the movie she let out a gust of breath she hadn’t been aware she’d been holding. She needed distance, or she was afraid she might crawl out of her skin.
    Adham’s swift exhalation of breath shocked her. It was almost as though he’d been experiencing the same thing she had. As if he were held in the thrall of this attraction, just as she was.
    Once again realism compelled her to ask why on earth a man of Adham’s experience would be interested in a virgin princess who didn’t even know proper kissing tech nique.
    “Did you enjoy the movie?” he asked as they exited the theater, his voice clipped, his manner detached.
    “Yes. I did.” Hopefully he didn’t want a summary, because all she would be able to give him was a recap of how many times his arm had accidentally brushed hers.
    “I’m glad.” He didn’t sound glad. He sounded detached. Bored. That irritated her. She felt edgy and … and turned on. And he was
bored.
    She couldn’t stand next to him anymore—not feeling as if every nerve ending was on fire, as if the light touch of the breeze was going to tip her over the edge into