Now that the vows are done, I’m on the sidewalk outside the church, impatient. There’s a chorus of people around, but above their noise, I can hear her laugh. I turn my head and see the priest saying something that delights her. God, I want to kiss that fucking laugh to silence. Then I want to do something to wake it up again so it trails into my mouth, where I can trap it. Taste it. Play with it.
When a group starts to gather around the limousine, I don’t waste another minute. I close the distance between us, stopping a mere two inches behind her, taking a moment to enjoy the fetching picture she makes: loose hair tumbling over her shoulders, tight red silken dress down to her ankles, the open back dipping in a V that ends almost at the start of her round, perky ass.
“Are you deliberately ignoring me?” I murmur, sliding my hand around her waist.
“No.” She smiles down at the sidewalk as she tucks her hair behind her ear.
I drop my head until my lips are almost grazing that ear. “Good, because I’m not someone you ignore.” Using my grip on her waist, I pull her back against my front. I’m testing the limits, glad that instead of making any sort of protest, she leans against me.
Good fucking sign, King.
Fuck, now I’m itching for more. Taking her by the elbow, I ease her away from the crowd and tuck her into an alcove near the entrance to the church.
Her breathing’s heavy, and that’s an even better sign. She wants you too, she wants you just like you want her.
I push her up against the stone wall using my body. Her breasts press against my chest, her thighs against mine. A low groan gets trapped in my throat as I slide my lips over the lids of her eyes. To say I’m starved is an understatement. I wish I had ten hands—two are just not enough as I run my palms up her sides, fingers cupping her butt and then pinning her to my hips so I can feel her, alive and perfect, safe and untouched.
She nuzzles my throat and takes a deep breath as if she craves my scent. I squeeze her against me, feeling her shiver in my arms.
I’m highly trained.
I can sense fear, arousal, excitement.
But the mixture I seem to produce in her intoxicates me more than anything ever has. I bring her tighter to me. A gasp leaves her lips, and it takes everything in me not to bend my head and take it. No. When I take those red-painted lips, I’m not stopping until she’s naked beneath me and I’m as deep as a curse inside her.
Tonight, I vow to myself.
I reach into my suit coat and pull the necklace I brought her out of a velvet bag.
“What is this?” She peers down at my fist.
I let her open my hand, and she looks down at the diamond necklace in my palm. It’s a high-quality tennis diamond necklace, simple yet extraordinary. Like her. “Something for my girl,” I murmur.
“Your girl?”
I lift the necklace and hook it around her neck.
“It’s too much, Greyson, I can’t take it,” she protests.
“I can’t take it back and it’s not my size.” I run my knuckles up her throat, and it’s warm and silky. “Besides, it’s meant for a queen, a princess.”
I adjust the sparkling strand so it rests against her collarbone, just beneath the flutter of her pulse point. I’m tempted to bend my head and slide my tongue in there. Hell, I’m tempted to do more. I dip my finger into the little crook instead, touching her pulse and lifting my eyes to hers. “Melanie, when you’re waiting for me to call,” I stroke the pad of my thumb over the diamonds one more time, “look at these stones and know for certain that that phone will ring.”
“Who are you?” she asks me, breathless and amazed.
My lips curl in a sardonic smile. “I’m the twisted version of your . . . Westley,” I say, holding her gaze.
We hear shouts outside and realize the bride has thrown the bouquet in the air. Melanie rushes out while I’m left behind, struggling to get a grip of my Neanderthal. She’s five feet and three inches of fun and she fills my entire being with shit I never intended to feel, let alone want.
I’m so fucking fucked.
I follow her into the crowd and stop right behind her, my front pressing against her back as I look down at her profile. Her nostrils flare. She’s smelling me again. I remain in my place, letting her get accustomed to me. My size, my scent, my height, me. I reach out with my glove to touch her hair, and she trembles. I shift to stand right beside her, dragging the back of my fingers along her bare arm. She starts breathing faster, and I hear her stop breathing when I lace my fingers through hers in a way that tells her—you’re with me tonight.
We watch the bride and groom ride away in their limousine, and Melanie waves them off without letting go of my hand. As the car disappears in the distance, she tips her pretty face up to me.
The diamonds look so stunning on her that for a moment I forget they serve a purpose other than to adorn her throat. They seem to mark her. Scream at me, yours yours yours.
“Looks like I don’t have a ride anymore,” she tells me.
Damned if I don’t like that pout. “No worries, you’ll be coming with me,” I say.
“Mel! We have your car keys!” a man calls in our direction, keys jangling in the air. He walks them over and I can see he’s the shit-faced blond dude who’s been eye-fucking her since I got here. He glares at me in silence. I level him an even blacker look. Keep glaring, asshole, I’m gonna be the one fucking her tonight.
Melanie’s dark-haired friend taps his elbow. “Riley, why don’t you guys take Mel’s car? She and her date can come with Kyle and me,” she interjects. She gives me a warning look as though I should be concerned about this for some reason. Not intimidated, I nod my agreement.
As soon as we’re in the backseat of the car, the girl speaks. “That’s some bling you got there, Melanie.”
“I know.” Grinning happily, Melanie pokes her thumb in my direction.
“He gave that necklace to you?” The friend sounds shocked.
“Yes! And his name is Greyson, Pandora.”
“Well! Greyson, will you be paying for the prescription glasses I’ll need after the retinal damage I’ll receive from all that bling?” she asks.
“Send me the bill,” I easily respond.