Baby, like is the understatement of the fucking century. You have no idea what you do to me.
Our faces are inches apart, her breath sweet, her lashes lowered as if she’s the predator and I’m the prey.
So fucking breathtaking.
Suddenly Mariya closes the distance between us, and her mouth slams against mine. My hand instantly moves to frame her cheek, and it doesn’t even take a second for me to react.
Fuck, I’ve wanted this woman for so long that all rational thinking comes to a dead stop.
My tongue thrusts into the sweetness of her mouth, light explodes behind my eyelids, and every muscle in my body tightens. I grow impossibly hard in a nanosecond.
Christ Almighty.
I was hoping to convince Mariya to give us a chance, but never did I imagine I’d get to devour her mouth so soon.
A satisfied groan rumbles from deep in my chest as the kiss grows borderline filthy. She tastes intoxicatingly good. Our breaths speed up, our tongues war, and I almost lose self-control.
Usually, I wouldn’t give a fuck and take what I want, but Mariya Koslov is not a woman you use as a one-night stand. You have to be worthy of her.
Reluctantly, I pull back, and my eyes search her face for any sign that she might regret the kiss. She’s breathless, blinking as if she’s caught in a daze and looking downright fuckable.
Christ, she’s going to make me lose my mind.
Then it hits that Mariya was the one to initiate the kiss. Even though she’s intoxicated, it has to mean she’s definitely interested in me.
Having had enough of the loud music, I pick up the tumbler of whiskey and toss the fluid down my throat. Setting the empty glass down, I grip hold of Mariya’s hand, pulling her to her feet.
I grab my jacket and place it over her shoulders which has her mumbling, “I don’t want to go to the hotel.”
“We’re not.” Wrapping my arm around her, I hold her slender body tightly to my side as I guide her to the exit.
I’m not gonna lie. It feels incredible having her lean into me.
Once we’re outside and passing the golden lion statue at the front of the club, I say, “Let’s take a walk so you can clear your head.”
There’s no way I can have a serious talk with her about us dating while she’s drunk out of her mind.
She leans into me more and places her hand over my abs. “Hmm...”
On the spur of the moment, I press her to my chest in a tight hug, and lowering my head, I take a deep breath of her scent.
Christ, it feels so good just to hold her.
My eyes keep scanning our surroundings, totally on guard for any threats.
Reluctantly, I free her from the hug, and we walk down a couple of blocks. Suddenly Mariya tries to pull away from me, her arm lifting as she points toward something across the street. “Look.” She squints as she reads, “Traditional… Elvis…” she starts to laugh. “A mob wedding. God, we have to do it!”
Grabbing hold of my hand, she pulls me toward the chapel. Before I know what’s happening, Mariya approaches a man dressed as Elvis and demands, “Marry us.”
What?
My gaze snaps to her flushed face because it’s the last thing I expected to hear out of her mouth.
“Do you have a license?” Elvis asks, not in the least surprised. This kind of thing must happen a lot.
I’m just about to tug her away from the chapel when disappointment tightens her features. “Damn. There goes my only chance.”
My eyebrow lifts as I keep staring at Mariya, and the idea starts to grow on me at the speed of light.
Elvis steps closer. “The marriage bureau closes at midnight.” He checks the time on his wristwatch. “You still have forty minutes. Get a license, and we’re good to go.”
A smile splits over Mariya’s face as she stumbles into my side. “Yes!” Her fingers splay over my abs, her eyes shining like stars as she looks up at me.
Christ.
My gaze flicks between Elvis and Mariya, and when she takes hold of my hand and starts to drag me to the road to hail a cab, the thought solidifies in my mind.
I can get away with marrying Mariya tonight and blame it on us being drunk.
Holy fucking shit.
Am I willing to go that far to make her mine?
Yes.
Without a fucking doubt. I’d do anything to make this woman mine.
We climb into a cab, and Mariya excitedly tells the driver where to go. Drunkenly she slumps against me, trying to give me a mischievous grin. “Whoever you have your sights on can go fuck herself. You’re marrying me.”
I wrap an arm around Mariya to keep her locked to my side, then murmur, “Whatever you want, mia regina.”
Money takes care of many problems when you’re in a rush to get married.