Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 120475 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 602(@200wpm)___ 482(@250wpm)___ 402(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120475 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 602(@200wpm)___ 482(@250wpm)___ 402(@300wpm)
The second we’re across the lawn and behind the tall gate of his parish house, I whirl on him, jabbing a finger into his chest. “Your wife?” I hiss.
He looks down at me, utterly unrepentant. “Did you have a better idea?”
I open my mouth. Close it. Damn it.
No.
But still.
I groan, dragging a hand down my face. “Oh my god, I’ve been fake-married for less than five minutes, and I already want a divorce.”
He smirks. “You’ll have to get in line, little heathen.”
I glare at him. “Oh, you think this is funny? This is your career, Bane. Your life.”
His expression softens just a fraction. “And what about you?”
I hesitate. I don’t have a good answer. Because my life? It’s been chaos from the start. But Bane? Bane had a future here. A purpose. And last night, I might have ruined it.
I chew my lip. “What are we going to do?”
His smirk fades, and he lifts a hand to brush a wild curl from my face. “We’re going to get married. If you’ll have me.”
His voice is steady. Confident.
Then the bastard drops to one knee right there in the dewy grass. “Moira Callaghan, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
I thought I was done gaping open-mouthed for the morning, but apparently not.
I slap him hard on the shoulder. “What are you doing down there? Get up!”
“Not until you answer me.” His eyes darken. “But feel free to keep slapping me. Just try not to leave a mark. I do have to go preach a sermon in a minute.”
“Be serious!”
“I am being serious. Be my wife, Moira, in truth. We can catch a flight to Vegas right after the service.” His clear gray eyes sear me. “Marry me.”
“I—You—” I let out an infuriated noise.
“You’re everything I’ve always wanted. I love you. Please do me the honor of becoming my wife.”
Holy shit. He means it. The bastard’s crazier than me, after all.
I feel tingly all over, but it’s different from usual.
I think… I think it’s happiness.
I drop to my knees and throw my arms around him, breathing out into his ear words I can’t believe I’m saying. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”
THIRTY-SEVEN
MOIRA
And so, I marry him.
In a gaudy little Vegas wedding chapel way, way off the strip, I say, “I do,” in front of Elvis and a witness who looks like she got lost on her way to work at a biker bar. Bane puts a cheap silver wedding band on my finger that we bought at the gift shop up front. And just like that—
BAM. Bane grabs me, kisses me deeply, and I swear I hear wedding bells. No, wait. That’s just the ka-ching of the cash register as Elvis’s assistant sells a couple of rubber chicken bouquets to the next doomed couple in line.
A flash goes off behind us, and I blink up at my brand-new husband. My stomach does a little swoopy thing like I just stepped off a rollercoaster.
“What the hell did we just do?” I whisper, my heart jack hammering in my chest.
Bane grins down at me, his dark eyes full of something that makes my breath catch. “I just became yours. And you became mine.”
Mine.
I blink again, feeling all dazed and Cinderella-at-midnight, but my shoes haven’t fallen off yet, so this must be real.
He laces his fingers with mine, nods at Elvis, and pulls me toward the door. “Come on, wife.”
“Watermarked photos will be emailed to the address you gave! Only a seventy-five dollar upgrade to your package to unlock!” calls Elvis’s assistant.
I giggle. “Hear that, darling? Just seventy-five bucks for a package upgrade!”
“Oh, my package is doing just fine,” he growls, low and dark in my ear. “And more than ready to consummate the marriage. Are you wet for me yet, wife? Because I’m happy to eat you out until you are.”
My breath hitches. My thighs squeeze together like they have minds of their own. Because obviously, I’ve been wet since we got off the plane. Hell, earlier than that. The man refused my very logical suggestion of an airplane bathroom quickie.
“Good things come to those who wait,” was all he said.
Well, I waited, and now I’m ready to crawl up his body and ride him right here in the hallway.
As soon as we step into our hotel suite, Bane has me pinned against the door. His body is all hard muscle and barely restrained hunger. I let out a little whimper because, honestly, I might just combust from the sheer need vibrating between us.
My hand drops to squeeze him through his slacks. Sweet, merciful baby Jesus. No wonder he refused the airplane bathroom. There wouldn’t have been enough room.
He thrusts into my palm, and I swear, I nearly pass out.
This is my wife, Moira. He said it this morning, and I still can’t process it.