“How am I going to tell my family about this?” I hold up my hand and point at my ring, which I took off once, only to have it shoved right back on my finger with a growl telling me not to take it off ever again.
His face softens and his hand slides around the back of my neck. “We’ll tell them together.”
“My dad owns guns, lots and lots of guns. This isn’t going to end well for you.”
“It will be okay.”
“I think something happened to you. I’m pretty sure you’ve lost your mind.” I start to panic as visions of him being chased by my dad, wielding a shotgun, flash through my mind.
“Stop worrying. It will work out.”
“It won’t.”
“It will, trust me.”
Snorting, I mutter, “Last time I trusted you, we ended up married.”
“Well, that can’t happen again, now can it?” He smiles smugly, and I let out a huff.
“At least there’s that.” Chuckling, he takes my hand and helps me into the back seat then gets in behind me as I move to sit across from him.
“Come over here.” He pats the seat next to him as the driver shuts the door.
“Why?”
“I want to tell you something.”
“You can tell me from here.”
“Come here,” he repeats, and I raise a brow then squeak when he leans forward, wraps his hands around my waist, and drags me to straddle him.
“Dillon!” I snap, and his hands slide up under my shirt, causing goose bumps to break out across my skin and butterflies to dance in my stomach.
“You’re so damn beautiful,” he mumbles, and I still while one of his hands slides farther up the back of my shirt and the other moves to rest on the underside of my jaw. “Far too perfect to be real. I thought that since the moment I first saw you.”
“You did?” I question, leaning forward, lost in the look in his eyes and his softly spoken words.
“I did,” he confirms, sliding his fingers through the hair at the back of my head, pulling me closer. “I didn’t know all of you then. I had no idea how damn smart you are, how funny you are, how caring and compassionate—”
“You forgot crazy,” I whisper, cutting him off, and he smiles.
“Crazy, so damn crazy.” He closes the minute distance between us, kissing me gently then pulling back.
“I didn’t know you even liked me,” I tell him, running my fingers through his hair, and his body stiffens. “Dillon.”
“I couldn’t tell you. I needed to take care of a few things before I even attempted to get into your head.”
“What?” I lean back, and his hands move to my waist, holding tight.
“Isla and me, there’s—”
“Nope.” I attempt to struggle free, but his grip tightens. “Let me go.”
“Never,” he growls, pulling me closer.
“Dillon.”
“I won’t talk about her now, but we will be talking about her. You need to understand.”
“I really don’t,” I hiss, grabbing his hands and trying to pry them off of me. “I don’t want to talk about her—not now, not ever. She’s… she’s evil.”
“Calm.”
“You calm! You were engaged to her, were going to marry her,” I taunt, tugging at his hands.
“I wasn’t.”
“Oh, my God,” I growl, leaning as far back as I can go. “Do you know how often she flashed that obnoxious ring in front of my face? How often she reiterated that you were hers to me? Like… like I wanted you!”
“You did want me,” he whispers, and my hands move to his shirt, where I grab on with both fists and lean close until my face is an inch from his.
“Do not do that. Do not even say that. Never in a billion fricking years would I ever approach a man who I knew was married, engaged, or had a girlfriend.” I pull him forward, hissing, “Never. Even if I was attracted to you, I would never ever go there. Not ever.” I let him go then move quickly off his lap. “I’m not a slut, a whore, or a home-wrecker.” I hold his stare. “And until you,” I point at his chest, “I had never even been with a man, so put that in your pipe and fucking smoke it!” I yell, dropping to the seat behind me, feeling my chest heave, completely missing the look of shock and satisfaction on his face.
“Baby.”
“No, do not ‘baby’ me, and do not come near me.” I hold out my hand when he starts to sit forward. “I swear I will take out your eyes if you touch me.” Pressing his lips together, I can tell he’s trying not to laugh and that he thinks I’m funny, but I’m dead serious. “I can’t believe I’m fricking married to you.”
“Believe it,” he barks, pushing up the sleeves of his navy blue Henley up to his elbows. “We’re married, baby, and you better get use to the idea, ’cause that shit is not changing. Ever.”