His Inheritance

Sealed With a Kiss

After two hours of fittings, you were losing your patience.

The two older women arrived after breakfast, dressing you in a thin white slip and put you on a padded footstool. They started by taking your measurements and then moved on to showing you various wedding gown designs in a ring binder filled with laminated illustrations and glossy color photos.

Most bridezillas would have literally killed to have the options offered to you. Beautiful gowns of all types were shown to you with great enthusiasm. When you didn't give any of them more than a passing glance – from your point of view, they might as well have asked you to pick out a prison uniform – they started discussing with each other which type of dress would be most flattering to your figure, your frame.

Great. A long dress with a super-long train. If you tried to make a run for it, Steve could just grab that train and haul your ass back...

When they got out the color swatches to determine your "season," your frustration grew. You were winter? What did that even mean?

By the time they started talking about hairstylists and makeup artists you were quite done. Your bladder was about to burst, you were chilly, and you desperately needed a break. While they were hashing out the finer points of how your hair should be styled for your wedding, you bounded off the stool, snatched up the fuzzy throw from the foot of your bed, and darted out of the bedroom.

You sighed in relief once the door was firmly closed behind you.

Wrapping the throw around your shoulders, you made your way down the stairs in bare feet. You found a guest bathroom downstairs and that was your first stop. Then you headed for the kitchen which you were pleased to find empty.

Or so you thought.

You went straight for the refrigerator, needing something to drink. Pulling open the door of the huge stainless-steel appliance, you shivered as you visually searched its contents. But it wasn't from the cold.

"Hello, there," a deep voice purred.

The man standing at the entrance of the kitchen was nearly as big as Steve and his gaze was intent on you. Thick locks of dark hair were slicked back, perfectly styled. His face was perfectly symmetrical with a jawline for days, darkened by stubble. The long black coat he wore over his tailored gray suit, was dusted with snow, telling you he'd just arrived.

Blue eyes the color of a winter sea moved over you covetously as he smiled. You pulled the throw even more tightly around you, feeling vulnerable.

"Don't be shy," he said quietly, taking a step closer. "I was hoping I'd get to meet you."

Was he...?

The man took another step closer, still grinning. His expression was a wicked blend of intrigue and... conquest?

Bucky Barnes is exactly the reason why you need to do exactly what I say...

Something told you that it was him.

With your heart pounding in growing trepidation, you took a step back, allowing the door of the refrigerator to close behind you.

This wasn't good. Where was Steve? Anyone? Intuition whispered that you shouldn't be alone with the man.

"I'll bet he doesn't let you out of his bed often," Bucky said, moving another step closer. Notes of bergamot and deep cedar captured your senses as you moved away, your back meeting the cold still of the fridge. "Does he treat you right, doll?"

Oh, you realized how it looked. You just had on a flimsy slip, your panties, beneath that simple throw. But what did you say to that? To him?

Bucky moved closer still until you were pressed against the metal door to maintain some distance between you.