Runaway Bride

“Do you live far from here?”

“No. We’ll be there in shortly…” My next question lingers on the edge of my tongue. It’s not any of my business, and I shouldn’t care, but I do, and I can’t stop myself from wanting answers now that I’ve tangled myself up in her business.

“What would compel you to agree to marry that prick?” I grit my teeth, knowing I won’t like her answer, not after she has already told me her parents forced her into it.

“The short version? Money,” she whispers, clearly heartbroken. “Joseph is not only rich, but also powerful, with connections my parents want. They told me they took care of me my whole life, and now, it’s time for me to return the favor and take care of them. My mom said it is my duty as her daughter.”

Sadness seeps from her.

“What a load of bullshit. What is this, the fifteen-hundreds? Who forces their daughter to get married for money or connections? Marriage is something that should take place between two people who love each other. Your parents are assholes.”

“You don’t have the first clue.” I park in front of my apartment building and watch her as she curiously looks up at the building.

“This place looks nice.” She smiles. I open my door at the same time she opens hers, but by the time I walk around, she’s still trying to get out of the car without getting her dress stuck.

“Here, let me help you,” I tell her just before grabbing her hips and lifting her up and out of the car. A soft, feminine gasp escapes her lips. Her chest rises and falls, the swell of her breasts pushing up over the top of the gown.

“Thank you…” She bats her eyes innocently, and I don’t even think she realizes how gorgeous she is. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even ask your name earlier.”

“Bishop.” I hold out my hand. She places her small, fragile-looking hand with perfectly manicured fingernails in my large, rugged one. Even though they couldn’t look any more different, they fit together perfectly.

“It’s nice to meet you, Bishop.” She smiles, and I can’t help myself, I pull her into my chest right then and there, not caring about anything but my lips finding hers.

Tipping her chin up, I stare into her blue eyes. The heat inside them flares, and I know she’s feeling everything I am.

Leaning down, my lips ghost against hers, gently, unsure at first. It’s clear she hasn’t ever been kissed before just from the way her lips didn’t move even against mine right away. Then, as if something connected in her head, she fiste my t-shirt, and the kiss deepens. She taste like sugar and smells like vanilla. I nip at her bottom lip, needing her to open that pretty mouth of hers so I can taste her tongue with my own.

A deep moan rumbles out of my chest, and I pull her closer, until there’s nothing but the heat of her body surrounding me. I want her out of this dress and withering beneath me.

My cock is hard beyond belief. It has been a long time since I’ve felt pleasure this deep coursing through my veins. Pulling away, I lean my forehead against hers, allowing her to catch her breath. Her pupils are dilated, and I know she wants more, need more, just as I do.

Without a word, I take her hand into mine and guide her toward my apartment. I can barely keep my eyes off her as we walk. When we finally reach the door to my apartment, I fish out my keys and unlock it.

Before Ivy has the chance to walk over the threshold I bend down and pick her up. She let out a squeal, but I couldn’t tell if it was from fear or surprise. I could picture her being afraid of me, and I’d never allow her to.

Her arms come up around my neck as I carry her into my place bridal style.

“What are you doing?” She giggles, not understanding the meaning of carrying a woman over the threshold for the first time.

“Well, it’s your wedding day and you are in a wedding dress. It seemed only right to carry you over the threshold.” I set her back down on her feet once we reach the middle of my living room, and for a moment, I’m unsure of what to do next. I only thought up as far as getting her to my house. I sink down onto the leather couch and watch as she looks around the room curiously.

She’s so beautiful with her high cheekbones, heart-shaped face, and plump lips. She has curves, and though she’s tiny, she looks fierce. Fuck. I damn near groan at the thought of keeping her here, claiming her, making her mine.

I envision fucking her through the mattress in my bedroom, across the kitchen island, against the wall overlooking the city. I shake my head, pushing the thoughts away before they take root. I should know better. I’m not like that, and Ivy doesn’t seem like the one-night-stand type. Plus, if she is a virgin, that just makes all of this worse. Her first time should be perfect.