Page 92 of Brutal Vows

“My point is that I saw you stand in front of a man pointing a gun at your chest and you told him to go fuck himself. You said you’d see him in hell, where you’d cut off his balls and choke him with them.” His smile is small and hideously smug. “There’s no way Gianni scared you.”

I lift my chin and sniff snootily. “You’re delusional, but you can think whatever you want.”

“I will. And what I think is that deep down, you wanted to marry me.”

“Your ego is the eighth wonder of the world, my friend.”

Ignoring that, he continues in a softer, more intimate tone. “Because you’re not a woman who’d give up a freedom that was won at such a high cost.”

His gaze is piercing, drilling into mine and daring me to contradict him. He waits for my response, stroking his thumb gently back and forth over my cheek as he holds me.

“This is a terrible thing to say, especially on our wedding day, so please forgive me. But there’s no guarantee I won’t be back to wearing black before the month is out.”

He stares at me in tense, blistering silence.

Then he throws his head back and laughs.

He laughs so long and so hard, I get irritated. I give him a smack on one of his big, stupid pecs.

“It’s not like you didn’t already know that! You said you’d be taking your life into your own hands!”

“Aye,” he agrees, still laughing. “And I am.”

“Then what’s so funny?”

“I never thought I’d find a threat on my life romantic.”

“Oh, shut up,” I grumble, shaking my head in disgust. “You’re an idiot.”

“But I’m your idiot,” he says, his laughter fading. His voice lowers an octave. His gaze grows intense. “And you’re my viper.”

“I hate that nickname.”

He growls, “No, you don’t, you fucking liar.”

He pulls me in and kisses me.

Wrapping his big hand around the back of my neck, he holds me close and drinks deep from my mouth as I fist the lapel of his tux in one hand and cling to his shoulder with the other. He slides his other hand up my thigh to my hip, which he squeezes.

Then he hooks his thumb under the elastic of my panties and tugs on it, sending shockwaves of pleasure through my pelvis as the cotton drags against my clit.

Against my mouth, he murmurs, “You’re trembling. I suppose that’s fear, right?” He chuckles. “Because you’d never be aroused by such an idiot.”

“I hate you.”

“The lies never stop with you, do they?”

He takes my mouth again, kissing me harder. I arch into him, my heart hammering and my nipples hardening with every sweep of his tongue against mine. He tugs on my panties again, making me squirm restlessly, then slides his hand between my legs.

“Soaked,” he whispers, rubbing my panties. “Sweet little viper, you’re already soaking wet.”

“I was thinking about poisoning your coffee,” I say raggedly.

“You were thinking about riding my dick.”

“How are you so awful?”

“You bring out the bastard in me. Now let’s see if I can get you to do something with that mouth other than slice me to ribbons.”