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My last date tried to rope me into a seance to contact his dead mother so she could “meet me and give her approval.” Needless to say, I never saw him again.
Like I was the one who’d showed up uninvited at her party wearing an outfit that could send a man to his fucking knees. A week later, the image of that black dress clinging to her curves was still ingrained in my mind, as was the fire in her eyes when she’d laid into me.
Vivian’s laugh evoked a strange sensation in my chest. Heartburn? Investigate later.
“You forget.” I pressed my fingers against her nape, forcing her to look up at me. “You’re my fiancée. Not Kai’s. Not anyone else’s. I don’t give a fuck how handsome they are or what type of accent they have. You’re mine, and no one…” I dipped my head, my lips brushing hers with each word. “Touches what’s mine.”
“How does he look at me?” Janis smiled. “Like he never wants to look away.”
“I hate the idea of you touching anyone else, or anyone else touching you. I hate that other people can make you laugh in a way I can’t. I hate how I feel around you, like you’re the only person that can make me lose control when I. Don’t. Lose. Control.”
“Because you’re mine.” His teeth scored my neck. “You wear my ring. You’ve come on my face and hand. You live in my head all the fucking time, even if I don’t want you to...” His palm slid to my hip, where his fingers dug grooves into my skin. “And God, I want to punish you for driving me so damn crazy. Every. Single. Day.”
“I’m the only one who gets to see you like this.” His voice turned harsh. “You”—thrust—”are”—thrust—”my”—thrust—”wife.”
“You’re making a mess, sweetheart.” He turned his attention to my other nipple and tugged on it with his teeth. “Should I make you clean it up, hmm? Have you lick your own cum off the seat while I fuck you from behind?”
“You can’t see the stars in New York,” Dante said. “So I brought the stars to you.”
