The Wicked Marriage Trap

“Max…”

Her voice made him tear his gaze away from the soft curve of her pale chest before him. His strong hand was gently held back by her smaller one, stopping him from going further. So Maxwell shifted, cupping Panpailin’s cheek instead.

He could see the pulse at her slender neck racing, revealing just how nervous she was. And truth be told, the young billionaire—disguised as his cousin’s assistant—was no less affected. His fingertips trembled slightly, desire rising within him, almost frightening in its intensity.

His brown-gold eyes studied her face before he spoke, his voice gentle… though laced with a husky edge of longing.

“Pan, don’t be afraid. I’ll be gentle with you. I know… this is your first time.”

“Max… I… it’s just…”

“Close your eyes, Pan.”

She swallowed, looking at him for a moment, before doing as her newly wedded husband suggested—her lashes lowering as she slowly closed her eyes.