Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 79462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
“You’re one of us now.” She nods at me. “Casey will look out for you, don’t worry. You’ll be okay. Jayson’s just hurting right now, but maybe one day—” At the expression on my face, she stops. “Well, you’ll be okay.”
She turns and goes, leaving me alone in my new, beautiful condo.
Chapter 9
Fallon
The door opens as I’m unpacking in the guest room. It’s almost barren, barely more than a bed and a dresser, plus an en suite bathroom with no toiletries. The wedding dress hangs on the back of the closet door, and I’m in sweats, my hair a ratty mess where I pulled out the pins and didn’t bother trying to keep it nice.
I storm out into the hall. I’ve had a good hour to think about what I’m going to say when he finally deigns to come view his new wife. This whole time, ever since Isabel dropped me off, I’ve pictured a dozen interactions. Imagined stabbing him in the throat. Imagined screaming into his face.
Imagined kissing him again, and again, and letting him take me into the master room to that big bed with its black sheets and comforter and letting him fuck me into a drooling submission.
But when I finally see him standing in the living room, pouring himself a drink, looking slumped and tired, I do none of those things.
He looks at me. We’re alone—more alone than we’ve ever been before. It’s intimate, far too intimate, and I don’t know what to do or say. He’s so big, so masculine, with an energy that almost crackles as his eyes rake up and down me again, unabashed and unapologetic.
“You kissed me,” I blurt out. My damn stupid no-good mouth again.
“Yes, I did. The priest told me to.”
“You asshole. I told you not to do it.” I advance on him, hands in fists. “There was no reason for it.”
“I wanted to kiss my new wife. Can you blame me?”
“Yes. Easy. I blame you for all this, actually.”
“You looked good.” He swirls his glass. “Really fucking good. You still do, although I wish you had left the dress on.”
“I’ve been here for an hour unpacking in the guest room. I wasn’t going to stay in that stupid thing the whole time.”
“I apologize for the delay. I had to be there to hammer out the business details with your brother and Adler.” He tilts his head. “Did you say guest room?”
“Don’t change the subject.” I point a finger at him. “We need rules.”
“I’m not a fan of those.”
“If you want to do something stupid, such as try to kiss me, you will ask first. And if I say no, which I promise you I will, you will not force me. Understand?”
“I’m a consent kind of guy. I’m progressive like that.”
“Great, wonderful, we’re understood then.”
“Do I get to make rules?”
“No, but thank you for asking, well done.”
He chuckles, low and throaty. I shiver at the raw sexual energy radiating from him as he puts down the glass and shrugs out of his jacket. He rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt, and I stare at his muscular forearms like a horny teenage girl. What is the matter with me? I’m losing my mind for this monster.
“Here’s my rule. You share my bedroom.”
“Absolutely not.” I blink a few times, coming to my senses. “Why in God’s name would we do that?”
“You’re my wife. I want you to act like it.”
I laugh because I genuinely can’t believe this guy is serious. “You’ve lost your mind.”
“I’m serious.”
“You hate me. You made that clear. Why do you think I’m stupid enough to want to sleep in the same bed as you?”
He comes toward me. I back off, heart racing straight through my spine, very much aware of how alone we are.
Alone with the big, muscular, attractive gangster.
He’s oozing sexuality and I very much despise him for that.
“We’re stuck together, lovely fox, and we might as well try to get used to each other. I think one way to do that is to share a bed.”
“How about we do couples counseling instead? You Americans like therapy, don’t you?”
“That’s not my style.” He stops about six inches away from me. Hulking and terrifying. He’s a pressure in my core. A heat between my legs. Get it together, Fallon! “I think we can get to know each other just as easily while mostly undressed.”
“You’d like that, I bet. But remember, we’re not consummating.”
“Hm,” he says, licking his lips, and now he’s very much thinking about consummating, and not trying to hide it. “We don’t have to fuck if you’re afraid of that. I know plenty of ways to make you feel good, my fox.”
I let out a whimper, an actual whimper, which is a noise I’ve never made in my entire life before, yet this man manages to cause me some serious distress thinking about these ways he speaks of.