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FORD

I should’ve known my menace of a wife wouldn’t make today easy for me.

That she’d find some way to push me.

To test me and make me snap.

And now?

She’s hiding.

From me.

On our wedding day.

I storm through the house, scanning every fucking room, my blood pumping.

My muscles are wound too tight.

People are watching me, whispering.

I don’t give a fuck.

I don’t stop.

I know she’s close.

I can feel her.

That prickle at the back of my neck.

That instinct that tells me exactly where she is, even when she thinks she’s out of reach.

And then I hear it.

A giggle.

Soft.

Stifled.

Full of guilt.

My jaw clenches.

I turn my head slowly, my pulse a steady, dangerous rhythm in my ears.

The bridal suite closet.

Of course.

I step forward, pressing my palm flat against the door.

Reaching down, I grip the doorknob.

And then I throw it open.

She gasps.

I grip the doorframe so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t splinter in my hands.

Her eyes go wide, her breath catching.

I don’t move.

Neither does she.

We just stare.

The air between us cackles.

Hot, electric, suffocating.

I take in everything.

The way she’s biting her lip.

The way her chest rises and falls too fast.

The way her thighs press together like she’s already wrecked before I even touch her.

Like she’s been waiting for me to find her.

Like she wanted this.

I tilt my head, slow and controlled. "Are you hiding from me, baby?"

Her smirk is instant.

Fucking brat.

“Maybe,” she whispers, voice teasing.

Sweet and full of trouble.

I step forward.

She doesn’t move.

I take another step.

She inhales sharply, her eyes flicking to my mouth, then back up, locking with mine.

I see it.

That flicker of anticipation.

The way she’s already trembling.

The way her body knows exactly what’s coming next.

I smirk. “That’s cute,” I murmur, leaning over and dragging my fingers up her bare thigh.

She shivers.

“Thinking you could hide from me.”

Her breath catches.

I grip her jaw, tilting her face up, forcing her to meet my gaze. “You knew I’d find you,” I murmur, my voice low, dark, and dangerous.

She licks her lips.

“Did I?”

Fucking brat.

I exhale slowly, tightening my grip on her thigh.

“You wanted this, baby,” I murmur, dragging my nose along her jaw. “Didn’t you?”

She doesn’t answer.

Just sways closer, her body betraying her.

I chuckle, dark and deep.

I press my thigh between hers, feeling the heat radiating off her pussy.

“You’re soaked,” I murmur, pressing in harder, making her whimper. “You’ve been waiting for me to find you.”

Her breath shudders.

“Waiting for me to punish you.”

She gasps.

I smirk. “Aren’t you, baby?”

Her eyes flutter shut.

She doesn’t answer.

Stubborn brat.

I drag my fingers down her throat, pressing against her pulse.

Then, I squeeze.

“Words, wife,” I rasp, my voice pure, gravelly possession.

She whimpers, her nails sinking into my arm.

“Yes,” she breathes.

I smirk.

Then I grab her waist, hoist her up, and throw her over my shoulder.

She squeals, laughing, kicking her feet. “Ford!”

I slap her ass.

Hard.

The sound echoes as I spin, exiting the closet.

The whole bridal suite gasps.

And Gram?

That old traitor cackles. “That’s my boy!” she shouts, holding up a flask.

Harper gasps. “Gram! You’re not supposed to encourage this!”

“What? He’s your husband, not mine.”

I chuckle, gripping Harper tighter as I stalk toward the door.

Jake sighs. “Ford. The wedding.”

“It’ll wait.”

“But—”

His words die in his throat.

“It. Will. Wait.”

He mutters a prayer.

Connor leans against the wall, laughing his ass off.

Harper joins in, her laughter mingling with his as I storm through the hallway.

Because she loves this.

She loves when I lose control.

And she knows exactly what’s coming next.

Because she’s mine.

And right now?

She’s about to be reminded exactly what that means.