“Will it be legal, our marriage, if you use my new name instead of my given name during the ceremony?”
“I suppose you want me to refer to you as Stone as well?” Father Paul Michael chuckles, unaware of the seriousness in Gia’s question.
I don’t care because the only ones who will be witnessing the ceremony are Elena and my men.
“Oh, I’ll be marrying Rocco tomorrow, for sure,” Gia answers for me and squeezes my arm.
She spoke for me, took my voice away. She ran the fucking show taking all the control away from me. I don’t care that she did a fucking perfect job. She made me appear weak. Whipped. Controlled by her instead of the other way around.
“I never thought I’d see the day.” The priest chuckles on his way out.
When I close the door behind him, I grip Gia’s wrists in one hand and pin them above her head, backing her into the door.
“What. The. Fuck. Was. That?” I growl, my nose a fraction of an inch from hers.
“What?” She gasps, terror in her eyes.
“You didn’t shut the fuck up. You didn’t let me speak.” She stripped any power I had away from me, and the priest saw it.
“He bought it. He believed me.”
“You made me look like a fool. A fucking fool.”
“I did not. I made you look like someone worth marrying. I lied,” she grits out between her teeth.
I’m so fucking turned on and angry at the same time. Not caring how much I scare her, I grind my throbbing dick into her stomach.
“You don’t get to speak for me. Ever. Do you understand?”
“No.” The fire in her eyes is fierce.
“I’m not a romantic.” I breathe heavily in her face.
“Don’t I know it.”
Her reply shocks me. Instead of cowering she fights back.
“I’m not a knight in shining armor.”
“Brutto figlio di puttana bastardo!”
The Italian flows out of her beautiful mouth and I so desperately want her lips to wrap around my cock, even if she did call me an ugly son of a bitch bastard. Arguing with Gia turns me the fuck on.
“I didn’t save you from an ivory tower.”
“No shit. You locked me in one.”
“And treated you like a princess.”
“You call this the royal treatment?” She tugs at her hands, but I don’t let them go.
I rake my free hand down her cheek, and she immediately turns away from it. I slow my lazy trail, skimming down the side of her breast hidden under the bulk of my sweatshirt. I had no idea the baggy material could look so sexy.
Wedging my leg between hers, I expect her to resist, but her legs move easily to the side, making room for me. She doesn’t want to fight me off but is too stubborn to admit how much she wants me.
I trace my nose along her jaw and smile when she gasps again. She stops fighting, letting her hands fall limp in mine. I continue my trail to her neck and whisper in her ear, “I can smell how wet you are for me, Gia.”
I feel the movement of her neck as she swallows. “It’s sweat from our run.”