Page 53 of Broken Vows (Marital Privileges #4)

I’m overwhelmed with post-orgasmic endorphins, but nothing will stop me from shaking my head. We need this, and I won’t have anyone take it away from us this time.

“All right,” Mikhail murmurs, effortlessly reading me. “If you’re sure?”

When I nod, he pushes the intercom button at his side and instructs the driver to take us to the church.

Anticipation builds the further we travel. This is the first time we’ve done this route together. Although I doubt anyone will try to intervene this time, it feels right doing it together. It makes it more special. Unique. It is us creating our own waves as it always should have been.

My nose tingles when our arrival at the church has me spotting familiar faces. Since we’re already technically married, we were meant to “elope” before joining our guests to celebrate our one-year anniversary. No one knew we were renewing our vows.

Mikhail’s smile bounces off the tinted windows of the limousine when he says, “They’re important to you?—”

“So they’re important to you, too,” I interrupt, almost sobbing.

Mikhail nods and then grunts, the force of my kiss knocking the wind out of him.

Before things get out of hand, I thank him for his kindness with nothing but my mouth before I slip out of the limousine to greet our guests.

It is an extremely intimate affair, with only my mother, my aunt Marcelle, and my baby sister in attendance from my side of our soon-to-be joined families.

The guest list doubles when it is exposed how similar our brain waves are. Mikhail looks a mix of shocked and uneased when Andrik assists Zoya out of a custom SUV that looks more like a tank than a family mover before he straps Amaliya into a baby carrier.

The unease becomes manageable when Mikhail’s mother takes Zakhar’s hand in hers before she joins us at the front of the church. She looks well, and her glossy blonde locks announce which side of the family Zoya got her fair hair from.

“They’re important to you…”

I leave my sentence open for Mikhail to fill it.

He follows along nicely.

“So they’re important to you, too.”

He accepts the hand Andrik holds out when they join us on the sidewalk, kisses his mother’s and sister’s cheeks, and then noogies Zakhar’s head, disgusting him. Zakhar looks like he worked on his gangsta part for hours. It is a replica of his father’s hairstyle.

Any tension left hanging fades to nothing when Zoya says, “When Konstantine announced you were circling the same block for over an hour, I assumed we had plenty of time to get here. Traffic was a bitch. Does everyone go to lunch in this town at the same time?”

My hand shoots up to cover my smile as my family’s giggles echo in the gardens of the church. I love how quickly our two families are becoming one, and I can’t wait to make days like today a permanent fixture in our lives.

“Are you ready?” Mikhail asks when Father Loroza signals for us to join him inside the church.

“Yes. I just have one quick thing to take care of first. Go ahead, I’ll catch up.” He looks worried until I add, “Nothing will stop me from walking through those doors. Not even a tornado.”

“Russia doesn’t have tornadoes,” Zakhar murmurs, leading his family’s entrance to the church. He doesn’t just look like his father. His personality is as commanding as well.

“Actually, they do,” Wynne corrects, jogging to catch up to him.

“Although they’re not as often or as strong as tornadoes in the US, they’re still common.

” Zakhar looks up at her in awe. If we were a cartoon, love hearts would be bouncing from his eyes.

He doesn’t snarl when Wynne ruffles his hair in a similar fashion to Mikhail while saying, “I’ll tell you more inside. ”

Nodding, Zakhar spins back to face Mikhail. “Are you coming, Uncle Mikhail?”

I squeeze his hand in silent support when he nods, then brush my mouth against his, my promise issued without words.

Once he disappears inside the church, I twist to face my aunt. “Did you bring it?”

Confusion fills my mother’s face when my aunt nods before pulling my surprise out of her oversized purse. It is quickly chased with unspoken anger.

~ Mikhail ~

As I stand at the altar, my heart races with anticipation. The moment I’ve been waiting for is finally here. Emerson Morozov is about to become mine—officially.

The church doors open, and I swallow in relief. I only left Emerson’s side thirty seconds ago, yet here she is, standing in the doorway of her family church, holding a bouquet of daisies and smiling softly.

My breath catches in my throat as I take in her beauty.

Her dress is a vision of elegance I failed to notice while banging her senseless in the limousine.

Its hem floats gracefully over the floorboards with each step she takes, and the delicate lace and intricate beadwork shimmer in the soft afternoon sun.

Their sparkles make her look like a goddess, and I can’t believe I get to call her mine forever.

Her hair is styled in soft waves, compliments to the clutch I had on her hair, and they are cascading down her shoulders.

Her eyes, those mesmerizing eyes that will always be my favorite color, are fixed on me, and I can see the love and happiness reflected in them as she moves them between our guests.

Emerson’s smile lights up the room when her eyes lock in on my family hogging the front pew on the right side of the church. She’s forgiven Andrik already. Mine has been harder to come by.

I understand the mistake he made, and the consequences of what could have happened if anyone in the federation reached the same conclusion, but his betrayal hurt.

He could have spoken to me. He could have manned up and told me his concerns.

I probably wouldn’t have listened, but I only remember that when Emerson is moaning beneath me.

It is easy to forget the cruelties of the world when the very reason you exist is breathing life back into your lungs.

I’m sure I will get over it eventually, but my forgiveness will have nothing to do with the five hundred million Andrik is refusing to let me return, and everything to do with the woman who made decades of abuse disappear with a single glance.

As our eyes lock again now, the magic that spell-bounded me fourteen years ago hits me again.

Andrik did try to warn me. He told me again and again how dangerous my plans with Emerson were.

I didn’t listen. I thought I could dodge the federation’s rules as he had most of his life.

I had no clue how fucking stupid I was being.

My stubbornness is the reason Andrik was forced to take matters into his own hands.

I am to blame for losing Emerson from my life for ten years, not my brother.

Actually, no. It was neither of our faults. It was the cruelness of a world too corrupt for young love to survive.

As Emerson reaches the altar, I take her hand in mine. The warmth and softness of her skin tell me what I need to do. After holding my finger up, requesting Father Loroza wait before commencing our vows, I twist to face Andrik.

He looks humble when I gesture for him to join us on the altar as Wynne has on Emerson’s side. It isn’t a look I thought he could pull off.

When Emerson’s cheeks turn a red hue in support of my attempt at reconciliation with my brother, I flare my nostrils, eager to capture the scent of her heated skin.

Confusion bombards me. A unique scent is bounding out of Emerson’s mouth. It wasn’t there when we fooled around in the limousine, but before I can query about it, Father Loroza requests for me to read my vows.

With my eyes locked on Emerson instead of the card Father Loroza is trying to hand me, I say, “I, Mikhail, take you, Emerson, as my lawfully wedded wife. I promise to support you, honor you, and stand by your side through all the challenges life may bring. I vow to respect you and to fulfill the commitments we have made to each other today until death do us part.”

Emerson’s smile is radiant, lighting up my life as she returns my vow.

“I, Emerson, take you, Mikhail, as my lawfully wedded husband. I promise to support you, honor you, and stand by your side through all the challenges life may bring. I vow to respect you and to fulfill the commitments we have made to each other today until death do us part.”

Memories flash through my head at the speed of a bolt of lightning when mischievousness darts through her eyes at the end of her vow.

The priest, however, moves the ceremony forward like we didn’t black out his calendar for the entire day.

“These rings are a symbol of marriage, a tangible reminder of the promises you’ve made today. ”

Father Loroza hands us the rings that will weave together with the rings we’ve not removed once in the past twelve months before he requests we place them onto each other’s fingers.

I go first, grateful that we’re finally here, ready to start our lives together as husband and wife.

As Emerson does the same, I look into her eyes and see my future—a future filled with love, happiness, and endless possibilities. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with her, to cherish and protect her, and to build a life together filled with joy, love, and countless orgasms.

Father Loroza’s voice breaking through the wicked thoughts in my head keeps my cock half-mast. “In the sight of God and the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” His narrowed gaze is unexpected when he turns his eyes to me and says, “You may kiss your bride.”

Emerson leans in first, her eyes brimming with lust. In this moment, everything feels perfect. I am the luckiest man in the world, and the scent that wafts out of my wife’s mouth when she opens it in preparation for my kiss makes my assumptions undeniable.

Her mouth, tongue, and lips are coated in peanut butter.

There’s enough greasy residue to kill me.

Doesn’t mean I will back away, though.

My wife wants me at her mercy, she wants me on my fucking knees, and her wish is my every command.

Air hisses from Emerson’s mouth when I band my arm around her waist and tug her in close.

Her nipples scratch my chest as my erect cock digs into her already drenched panties.

I can smell how aroused she is, and how hopeful she is that I will make true on the threat I delivered the last time she denied me at this exact location.

Emerson trembles—voluntarily this time—when I press my lips to the shell of her ear and say, “Are you sure this is what you want? I will never deny you, but your momma may never look me in the eye again when I show Father Loroza, on this very fucking altar, that a mouth isn’t the only place a man can kiss his wife. ”

From the spark that lights up her eyes, I get my answer, but she adds words to the mix. “You didn’t think we really hired the church for the entire day for a ten-minute ceremony, did you, Coal?”

When lust burns through her body, making her cheeks glow, I step back, ready to empty the church with an arrogant wave of my arm.

Shock rains down on me for the umpteenth time over the past twelve months when I find nothing but empty pew after empty pew. Not even Father Loroza is in attendance anymore.

It is just me and the woman I would go to the end of the earth for.

Emerson lazily falls to her knees, deliberately enticing me, before she removes an EpiPen from her bra and stores it on her right for safekeeping. “What do you say, Coal? Shall I make you burn again?”