Runaway Bride

“I’m sorry if…” My cheeks heat with embarrassment. Of course he wouldn’t want me. I was crazy for thinking he would—for thinking I saw something in his eyes. Dumb. So dumb, Ivy.

“Don’t you dare apologize.” He chuckles. “I’m harder than…you have no idea how hard my cock is right now, but you don’t have to do this. Offer yourself to me. I won’t lie and tell you I don’t want to fuck you through the mattress, Bambi, but it’s not why I brought you here. I just wanted to help you get you out of there.”

His response causes a heat to bloom in my chest.

He wants me. He cares about me.

Neither of those things have ever been expressed to me. My parents wanted what I could offer them. My future husband didn’t care about me.

And because of that, I’m done caring, done trying to be what everyone else wants. I’m going to do what I want…be who I want.

“I want you. I’ve never been with a man before, but I want you to be my first.” I lick my bottom lip, noticing the hunger in his green eyes deepen.

“Don’t say that. We hardly know each other. We literally just met,” he responds gruffly, his body tense, his muscles begging to be touched. He’s trying to convince me to walk away, but I don’t want to. I want to touch him and let him touch me.

“I don’t care. You’ve been kinder to me than anyone else ever has. You saved me…” I whisper. I try to step out of the mountain of dress puddled around me, and almost fall on my face when my heel gets stuck on some fabric. Of course, he’s right there to catch me. Standing directly in front of him on unsteady feet, I stare up into his face. He grabs me by the hips, and I’m not sure if it’s to pull me in or push me away.

“Tell me no…tell me not to. Tell me to walk away, and I will. You’re pure white snow, and I’m tainted. You deserve better, and I know that even without really knowing you.”

I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter if we know each other. There’s always time for that later. It’s about giving our hearts what they want.” As if he feels the same tingling deep inside his belly, he’s on me, claiming my mouth, searing his lips to mine.

He kisses with a fierceness that makes my mouth dry and my heart heavy. I sigh, melting into his body, his touch. His lips move, and soon, they’re trailing over my chin, down my throat, and over my throbbing pulse. He nibbles on my collarbone, and I moan loudly, the noise vibrating off the walls of the bedroom.

My nipples harden, and my chest rises and falls. I grip the edge of his shirt, and he helps me pull it up over his head. My eyes bulge out of my skull as I roam over his exposed flesh. His muscles ripple, the dips and planes of his body make my insides clench with need. He looks like a damn Roman god.

Where do men like this come from?

I run my fingers over the skin and watch as it moves. His chest and arms are painted with intricate lines of black ink. My mouth waters. He’s the man I want—the man I need.

“Has your pretty pussy ever been fingered? Tasted? Touched?” His words caress my ear, and I find I’m shaking my head instead of responding.

“Use your words, Bambi.” Bishop’s voice is deep, and it makes me shiver.

“No. No one has ever touched me,” I whisper, seeing a grin pull at his lips. He looks devilishly handsome when he smiles. I want to see him do it more.

I want to make him smile, make him happy.

“Fuck…” he growls before lifting me and walking toward his king size bed in the middle of the room. He deposits me onto the cotton sheets, and my legs fall apart, as if I’m beckoning him forward. I know it’s impossible to think he could be the one, but I feel it. I feel something deep inside me sparking, cracking, fusing together.

“I want you,” I whimper, looking up at him.

“And you’ll have me, every last fucking inch, Bambi.” The growl in his voice makes me shiver. Before I can respond, he drops down to his knees in front of me.

“What are you doing?” I croak as his fingers slide down my lace-covered slit.

“Tasting you, sampling your sweet little pussy…I want to see what you like. Feel you come all over my tongue. Get you nice and wet before giving you all ten inches.”

My eyes go wide.

Ten inches.

Holy shit.

My blood whooshes in my ears, and I watch with eagerness as he grips my panties between his fingers and pulls them down my legs. My body feels hot. My breasts heave with every breath I take. It feels like I’m about to combust into a raging inferno, and he hasn’t even touched me or tasted me yet.