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EIGHT

lucie

The feral lookin his brilliant indigo eyes makes the world tip on its axis, and suddenly I’m no longer wearing a wedding cake for a dress; I’m no longer inferior to Viviana who’s still on my shit list for not calling or texting me back; I’m no longer the trapped girl with no options.

I’m beautiful, sexy, wanted.

He looks at me like that.

Callahan Francis—Frank—Murphy. And I want to swoon.

I sway into him and that possessive look turns savage. There’s definitely something wrong with me for liking it so much. I tilt my head up and he drops his mouth on mine again. Hauling me against him, he kisses me hard. It’s an onslaught of a kiss, erotically charged, and the piercing is the kind of hot I’d never expected or thought about.

He tastes of whiskey, a slightly sweet bite and lingering burn, like I’m dreaming of drinking some, and like this, I could easily drink my fill. But there’s the danger of him that lurks, the bad and evil my father said he was, the darkness I’ve tasted before.

He makes me feel crazy and flustered andinsatiable all at once. His deep kiss touches my soul, makes me want to climb inside and explore every single inch of him. And now there’s something poking me, low on my stomach, it’s?—

The shock of his erection makes me rip my mouth from his.

“Careful now,” another Irish accent says, all warm and teasing, “that’s not church tongue.”

“If you didn’t want to see tongue, don’t stand so fucking close to my bride, Declan.” Callahan doesn’t lift his gaze from me.

“But how will I learn, Cal?”

“We’re not in church,” I say, the words coming of their own accord, and the one called Declan hoots a low laugh.

“My brothers areeejits, but you’ll get used to them.”

“If you’re going to Snow White me to your dwarves, this sham marriage is already done.”

His mouth quirks. “If I wanted you to turn to a life of servitude to my brothers and me, you’d do it.”

“For a day, and then I’d poison you all.” Shit, my mouth…

But he just nods, pulls me into him, and slides me against that erection. A shiver dances over my skin. “Good to know. By sprinkling it into our food?”

“No, by cooking.”

“Shit, you can’t cook?” A sudden look of alarm flickers into his expression.

“Nope.”

“You better be good on your knees, then.”

Heat sears my skin and he nudges my ear with his mouth, making me want to moan and pull away and push into him all at the same time. Each nip and tug of my lobe is like that insanely intense moment of an orgasm where I don’t know if I can stand it, and then he stops and I definitely can stand it because oh my God, I wantmore.

So much more.

“You’re blushing, Lucia Joy.” It’s not my middle name. My middle name’s Raffaella, which is just way too much. But I don’t correct Callahan. “Are you a virgin?”

I don’t answer, just run a finger down the smooth shave on his cheek. And then I snatch it away. “I’m sorry, I… I think I need the powder room.”

Callahan slips a firm arm around my waist. “Are you blushing over my words or the fact you’ve given me a boner in front of everyone at our wedding?”

I catch the smirk on my father’s face and something horrible occurs.

This man isn’t into me. He’s into what my father can give him, and shame flares deep in my chest. I try to pull away but he’s strong. I remember that much about him. I couldn’t escape him on the street when he shot John, and I’m not ever going to escape him now.