Page 102 of The Billionaire's Fake Wife

I hear the words as if from far away. Above me, the wind picks up. A gust blows past me and I stagger. I can’t do this. I can’t. The world swims around me. The minister’s face fades in and out in front of my eyes. I. Can’t.

A wide palm grips my fingers, coaxes me to loosen my grip. I watch as the bouquet slips from my fingers. He catches it midair, hands it to someone next to me.

Sinclair tugs at my arm and I turn to face him.

Indigo eyes fill my vision. Turquoise and cerulean and so many shades of cyan that they seem to reflect the skies overhead.

"Summer Cora West, do you take Sinclair Amadeus Sterling as your lawfully wedded husband to love, respect and to obey?"

I blink. Obey? Of course, he’d highlight that, huh?

His gaze intensifies. Those dark pupils seem to sweep away all barriers and tear right into my soul. He can see me naked. All of my fears and hopes and aspirations—he owns all of them. I’ve been his from the moment I set eyes on him. When he’d commanded me, the bartender, that I’d had enough. When he’d swept into my life with the force of a hurricane sweeping aside all protests. I never stood a chance. I’d added my yes to his every command. And yet I am here, standing in front of him, trying to make a last stand. A ball of emotion plugs my throat. I try to draw in a breath and my lungs burn. I shake my head. Open my mouth.

His glare deepens. Then he drops his head and closes his mouth over mine. He thrusts his tongue between my lips, draws on any remaining air I had left. He sucks from me, drinks from me, buries his teeth into my lower lip with such force that I taste blood. Pain sweeps down my spine. My thighs spasm. All thoughts drain from my mind. A silence replaces the screaming echoes in my head. He softens the kiss, swipes his tongue across my lower lip. Once, twice. A trembling springs to life, low in my womb. A moan bleeds from my mouth and he swallows it up. His entire body seems to shudder. Nah, must be my imagination. The next second he pulls away. Searches my features. He must have found what he was looking for, for he nods.

"Ask her again." He addresses the priest without taking his eyes off of me.

"Sin…" the priest’s voice has an edge of something hard to it.

"Do it." He growls.

Silence for another beat, then the priest asks the question.

Sinclair doesn’t break the connection between us. He rubs his thumb over my wrist, a gentle circle that leaves a trail of sparks in his wake. I gulp.

"Summer?" The priest’s voice coaxes me.

Sweat beads my palms.

"I do."

My heartbeat ratchets up. My guts churn. A gust of wind blows my hair about my face and I shiver.

He pushes the strands of hair away from my temples. "You did well, Bird." His lips quirk.

Something warm coils in my chest. I can’t tear my gaze from his features. Those high cheekbones, that hooked nose, and the pouty thrust of his lower lip.

"Do you have the rings, Sinclair?"

His features harden.

"Sin?"

His jaw tics. "No rings."

Oh!I blink. What had I expected? That he’d have rings for the both of us? I mean, I hadn’t consciously thought of it, to be honest. I’d assumed, though, that he’d surprise me. And he had, just not in the way I’d expected.

His features harden and he scans my features again. If he wants a reaction, he’ll be disappointed. It’s better this way. No physical signs that there is anything between us… Nothing except that piece of footage which he holds over me, which ensures that I’ll comply with his every demand. I firm my lips.

"… I now proclaim you man and wife. You may now kiss the bride."

He lowers his head, I turn my face, and his lips brush my cheek.

He whispers, "Enjoy your last few seconds of freedom, for soon you’ll be caged."

I draw in a sharp breath, peer up to find his lips curved in a smirk. He tilts his head, and the fire in those eyes switches off. How does he do it? Blow hot one second and cold the next. Why can’t I be that heartless, that single-minded in my quest? Because I am too human, too emotional. Too good for him. I am no match for his iron will, the sheer strength of determination that resides in every pore of his body. And I am wedded to him… At least, for the next twenty-five days. Anger floods my chest and my guts heave. I raise my palm.

He shakes his head. "You’ll regret it."

He’s right.

The realization sinks into me, at the same time a trembling grips my body. The pulse thuds at my temples; adrenaline laces my blood. I need to get away from him before I have a complete breakdown. I pivot and rush down the path I had taken earlier, when a man steps in front of me.

Tall, broad shoulders, gray streaks his temples. His green eyes with specks of gray similar to mine brighten with recognition.

"Summer, look at you, my little girl, all grown up."