A Dash of Spice (Lights Camera Insta-love 2)

“Yes, baby.” He slurps my left nipple into his mouth, his hips slamming me in a quick tempo against the wall. “I’m going to come on these nipples, in your cunt, on your beautiful face. I’m going to come all over you, Lola. I’m going to fucking marry you.”

Marry me?

Those two words are like a sword slashing down the middle of a pillow. Where my focus a moment ago was solely focused on Aiden—and his filthy/magical mouth—my thoughts scatter now like feathers in ninety directions.

Is this man crazy? Marry me? We just met!

I can’t be in a relationship.

It’s possible he’s not going to take that well.

Why don’t I want him to stop touching me?

“I have to go.” I drop my legs from around his waist. “Aiden, I…we shouldn’t have kissed. I think I gave you the wrong impression. I mean, I’m going back to Vegas tomorrow—”

“The hell you are.”

His muscular arms are still caging me in, but I duck under one to escape and back across the room on the balls of my feet, my heart still going a thousand miles an hour. “Thanks for the encouragement.” I realize my boobs are still showing and quickly yank up my bra and dress bodice. “You know, you’re actually kind of sweet underneath—”

“Lola,” Aiden says in a warning tone, following me toward the door, his erection tenting the fly of his pants. “You’re not going anywhere. Not without me. Ever again.”

“I am. I have to go meet the other dancers.” I check my imaginary watch. “Actually, they’re probably looking for me.”

He ignores that. “Why shouldn’t we have kissed?”

“Because I can see you want more.” Saying the word more out loud makes my pulse skip, but I staunchly ignore it. “I can’t give more.”

“Why not?” he shouts.

“It’s complicated.” I yell back.

Intensity whips in his eyes. “You married already?”

For a split second, I consider lying, but I think Aiden might actually go berserk if he thinks I’m legally bound to another man. “No, I’m not married. I’ve never even had a boyfriend. But…”

He steps into my space and captures my arms, rubbing his thumbs up and down my biceps. “But what, baby?”

I lower my voice to a whisper. Just in case someone is listening. “My boss is dangerous. Very dangerous. If a girl works for him, she belongs to him. Not as a girlfriend or anything romantic. But she is his property.” I swallow. “And right now, I’m the most valuable property he has. Please understand, I’m not free to be with you. Or anyone. I’ve…signed my life over.”

For a heavy beat, he merely stares at me, processing that information.

Then he does something I’m not expecting.

Aiden laughs, a deep, booming sound. “Fuck that noise.”

Before I can voice my confusion, he stoops down and throws me over his shoulder, striding out into the busy backstage area. A moment later we’re walking out onto the active New York City sidewalk. From my upside-down perspective, I see a mob of fans calling Aiden’s name—including my fellow dancers—waiting behind barricades. But I have no choice but to dangle helplessly over Aiden’s hard back and in short order, I’m being deposited into the back of a black limousine.

Aiden climbs in beside me and barks a location, before pulling me onto his lap and tucking my head beneath his stubbled chin. “I’ll take care of everything now, baby,” he murmurs.

With that, the limo lurches into traffic.

Hold on. Did I just get kidnapped?

If so, why do I want to snuggle into this man and never let go?

You can’t.

You’re putting him in danger just by spending time with him.

As much as I want to ignore reason, I can’t. Wherever he’s taking me…

I have to find a way to escape.

3

Aiden

Most of my brothers are wild men, such as myself.

We were raised with very little discipline or supervision and spent most of our time getting into trouble or playing hockey. My oldest brother is the only one of us who settled down with a wife. Once while we were out for a beer, he told me I would find a woman one day that made my heart feel like it was breaking and swelling out of my chest all at once.

I’ve found her.

I’m marrying her.

It’s a done fucking deal.

Lola doesn’t seem to think so, unfortunately. Which is why I’m taking her to a restaurant instead of my hotel room where I’d already be getting her pregnant. Yeah, I want my saucy little badass round with my child and I don’t think I’ll relax until she shows me two little lines on a pregnancy test. I’m locking her down and making a mother out of her. End of story.

But look, I might be a hothead and a brawler, but I know how to listen when someone is saying something important. Lola asked me to speak to her like a lady, so she probably needs to be treated like one as well. I still have a lot to learn about handling Lola right, but I think she needs candlelight and wine and shit, right? Moreover, I want to treat her the way she deserves—and in the process, I want to find out why some motherfucker thinks he owns my future wife.