Bound To His Bride

But life doesn’t stick to your goddamn plans. Tonight is proof of that, and now here we are. No first lines. No conversations. No apologies. Just my lips on hers, the way it was always meant to be.

The way it’s always going to be.

I wasn’t prepared to see her. I thought I was. And fuck, I’ve been looking at her for six goddamn months. But always from a distance. Always from the rooftop, or from a block behind her, trailing her to make sure she got home okay.

The neighborhood she moved to after, well, after us, wasn’t the worst. But it was pretty fucking close. There’ve been two times in the last few months where I’ve spotted the predator after her late at night coming off the subway before she even knew she was prey.

…Neither of them are predators anymore. Neither of them are breathing anymore, actually.

But “from a distance” never prepared me for being this close to her.

Clearly.

I kiss her slow and deep, swallowing the moan that tumbles from her throat and tasting the sweetness of her lips. My entire body comes alive, my skin blazing with fire, every muscle in my body clenching and coiling with the need to take her, pin her to me.

To bind her to me, forever this time.

But suddenly, she’s pulling away. Suddenly, her hands push at me, her mouth slips from mine, and she sidesteps out of my arms. I whirl, but she moves quickly, backing away, her eyes wide and her face bright pink—her hands covering her mouth as she slowly shakes her head.

I know I should keep back. I know after what she’s been through the last six months, she needs space. But god-fucking-damnit, I’ve had “space” between us for six fucking months, and I am done with space. My eyes land on her, my senses tingle, craving her, needing her—not even remotely satisfied with the one kiss and the one touch of her body to mine.

And suddenly, I can feel myself start to lose control. I know we have to go. I know the guys in the van downstairs and probably a lot more are going to come in here guns blazing when none of the guys they sent first respond. I’m not one to run, ever. And I can take a lot, but I can’t fight the whole mob single-handedly. Definitely not while also trying to protect her.

And yet even with all of that hanging over my head, all I can really concentrate on her, and the roaring, primal, undeniable urge blazing through me to claim her. To kiss her again, and hold her. To make her mine. I feel like some sort of jungle beast—like a goddamn lion who’s seen his mate, with only one primal thought churning through me.

…To take her.

I don’t even just want to kiss her, or touch her. It’s more than that. I want to mate her. I want to crush my mouth to hers, pin her to the wall or to the floor and plunge inside of her. I want to feel her screaming for me as I mark her deep with my cum. I don’t just want to taste her, or claim her again. I want to fucking consume her.

I blink, barely able to breath, the nearness of her after so long almost like too powerful a drug. A drink strong enough to knock me on my ass.

“Colm.”

She breathes my name, and it’s almost my undoing. I know we have to go. But hearing my name on the lips I’ve dreamt about for six fucking months is almost enough for me to say fuck it all, and to have her right here, danger be fucking damned.

“You—you’re really…” she trails off, my pulse still racing as my eyes drop to the guy slumped unconscious on the floor. “Colm—”

“We have to go, and we have to go now.”

I stride towards her, but she shivers, her eyes narrowing at me as she backs away, moving all the way into her kitchen.

“No,” she hisses, shaking her head, her eyes narrowing at me. “Goddamnit, Colm, you can’t just waltz in here as if—” Abby looks away. “You can’t just…”

“I can’t what,” I growl, frowning. “I can’t knock the fuck out of some creep threatening my wife after breaking down her goddamn door?”

My wife.

I know she hears those words, and I know they sink in deep. Heat flushes through her as the fierceness blazes through me. Goddamn is she enticing. Gorgeous. Perfect. This mix of cock-throbbingly sexy and so damn sassy she could light a fire with that look of hers.

“You disappeared,” she hisses quietly. “Damnit, Colm! You—”

“Abby,” I growl lowly. “You wanna be mad at me? Fine. But later. Now, we need to get the fuck out of here.”

“Yeah?” she sneers. “And why’s that?” she purses her lips and jabs a finger at Nino on the floor. “Is there more of your mob bullshit about to fuck with my life or something?”