I wanted to say that we didn’t do that in my crew, but I knew it would be a lie. I knew the kind of men I had around me, angry men, disgusting men, violent killers, bastards—all of them flawed in their own ways. I didn’t fuck with pushing around people that couldn’t stand up to me, women especially, but there were men in this business that got off on that sort of thing.
“Your father should’ve stopped it.”
“My father should’ve done a lot of things, but you were at our wedding.” She sneered at me and her anger was back. “He walked me down that aisle and gave me away like a toy, all because Vincent asked him to, and he’d do anything to get in the big boss’s good graces.”
I spread my hands. “And here we are. I can see why you got annoyed with Aldrik and Enrico.”
She grunted. “They’re not so bad. Just average assholes.”
“I’ll keep them in check.”
“You don’t have to protect me.”
I leaned toward her, eyes narrowed. “I know I don’t have to do a goddamn thing, but I want to.”
She watched me like an owl on a barn roof. I met that gaze and held it, and wanted her to know how I felt, what I was thinking—wanted her to taste my hunger for her.
“Why’d you come out of the car yesterday?”
“You were frozen. You were suffering.”
“You didn’t have to help me.”
“You’re my goddamn wife, Cora, of course I’m going to help you.”
She looked confused at that. “We’re not really married. I mean, this— it’s not real.”
I stood up. I felt my anger bubble to the surface. I walked over to her and reached down, grabbing her wrist, and she must’ve been too surprised to stop me. I pulled her to her feet and yanked her against me, turning her, and pushed her back against the counter, pinning her there. I felt her heat then felt her struggle, though weakly, like she wasn’t really trying to get me away.
I kept my face inches from her. “I think you fundamentally misunderstand the kind of man I am.”
“Yeah? How’s that?”
“You think I do shit like this for—I don’t know, for money, or influence, or power, and in some ways that true. But I’m here for you, Cora.”
“You didn’t even know me before we got married.”
I leaned closer and let my lips brush against her cheek as I whispered in her ear. “That’s right, I didn’t. But I do now, and I’m staying because I want this.”
I held her there and she froze in my arms. I think she was considering her next move—whether to fight me off or to accept this, whatever this is, our marriage or our physical attraction or whatever was simmering between our bodies. I pulled back and stared into her eyes then decided to give the game away, decided to be done playing entirely—and kissed her.
Her lips were soft and supple and tasted like cherries and tea leaves. She kissed me back, tentative at first, then threw herself into it. I pulled her tighter, felt her breasts against my chest, cupped her ass with both my hands then ran my fingers along her back. She let out a soft gasp, a gentle moan, and goddamn, I wanted more, so much more, her body, her tongue, her hard, pink nipples, the long lines of her legs, everything, all of her in my bed, sweating and more.
She put her hands on my chest and pushed me back. I let her move me, even though it was the last thing I wanted. She stared at me, breathing hard, mouth hanging open.
“Don’t,” she said, and that was enough to break the spell.
I cocked my head. “You sure?”
“No. But don’t anyway.”
I lingered there for another earth-shaking second then turned and left the room.
I knew if I stayed, I wouldn’t behave myself. I couldn’t behave myself, not after that kiss, not after knowing she wanted it as bad as I did and yet still seemed like she couldn’t give me the benefit of the doubt. I wasn’t her father, I wasn’t the men she grew up with—I wasn’t those bastards that made fun of her, hurt her, made her into the cynical, angry, jaded girl she was today.
But she’d have to see that for herself. Sooner or later, she’d have to understand, and I couldn’t rush it, couldn’t force it, no matter how impatient I felt.12CoraTwo days after my panic attack, Reid came home early with a stack of dress bags slung over one shoulder. I stared up at him from the couch and my mouth fell open as he dropped them onto the cushions beside me with a grunt.
We stared at the pile and I did a quick count—at least five bags, but probably more given the tangle of hangers.