He shrugs. “Okay, well, then it was all a misunderstanding.” He moves forward, trapping me against the doors, his pelvis brushing against my stomach.Christ, I forgot how tall he is. I swallow as he stares down at me, gray eyes flicking over my face. “Have I mentioned how ravishing you look?”
“No.” I’m breathless, making a liar out of myself. How is it I barely know this man, and he’s already making me lose control?
“You do.” Bending down, his tongue traces along the curve of my ear, lips landing just beneath my lobe. “Now, let’s get inside and do this, so I can get you home and underneath me.”
My head swims as he sweeps me inside the courtroom, desperately trying to keep up with this impossible man.
He’s electric, fast and splintering, and I can feel myself being drawn in despite my reservations, a conductor begging to be shocked.
My idiot heart should know to run for cover.
My new husband’s hands feel like snow in mine, as if the blood pumping through his body is made of ice. We’ve been married all of thirty seconds, and it’s the only thing I can focus on—not his father off to one side and not my sister on mine, flanking us in case we change our minds.
Like we can back out now.
I can’t even focus on the fact that, for the first time, we’re about to kiss as a married couple.
Our first kiss, at all—we didn’t exactly get around to mouth kissing at Luca’s party.
Nerves race up my arms as he steps close, sending a shiver through my body.
He frames my face in his large palms and tilts my head slightly, forcing me to look into his eyes. They’re half-lidded, totally devoid of the love and joy he promised me for the rest of our lives just moments ago.
Lifeless.
This is the man that proposed to me, hard and domineering, as he guides me to the position he wants me in. Like I’m a piece of meat and no longer a human.
And you just married this monster.
My heart stutters, conflicted, as those gray orbs darken and drift down to my lips; they part in an unwelcome invitation from parts of my body that I’m not proud to admit he awakens.
“Mio amore,” this dangerous man whispers, pupils dilating. I curse the way his words make my insides quake. I don’t know why he keeps calling me that, considering this is a marriage of convenience—a strategic arrangement and little else.
Barely even that.
When I don’t respond—what can I even say?—he steps in closer, a fist tangling at the base of my curls. He angles my head even further back, forehead perpendicular to the cathedral-style ceiling of the courtroom, and leans in so his lips move over mine.
Holy Mother Mary.
My husband presses closer, deepening the kiss despite our audience.
His kiss enraptures me, an uncontained fire consuming my flesh. The heat of his mouth licks down my spine and sets my skin ablaze. I start to protest, but he ignores it and pushes his tongue in, sweeping against the roof like a scavenger on the hunt for scraps of food.
I’ve been kissed before, but never like this. Not by Elia Montalto.
No man has ever ravaged me like this, and I find it strangely tantalizing, the promise his body makes juxtaposed with the reality of our situation.
One of his hands leaves my hair and glides down my back, curling over the curve of my ass to shift me against him. I feelallof him, and I can’t deny the way my core throbs with excitement.
We’re full-on dry humping in front of a district judge and our closest family, but my husband seems completely unfazed.
I suppose as amafiosohe’s used to doing unpleasant things in front of others.
Something hard and oddly shaped digs into my hip. Without breaking away, I can tell by the outline that it’s a pistol. Having the weapon pressed against me is arousing, the danger this man exudes making me unsteady.
He pulls back, finally, allowing me a chance to drag breath back into my lungs as the depravity of this settles in. A soft smile graces the sharp contours of his face, and his hands drift down, pulling the illusion fabric from my neck. I don’t have time to object, my head still trying to catch up with the blaze that kiss left.
There’s a sharp intake of breath that snaps me back; Elia’s fierce gaze locks onto my neck, one hand coming up to shield me from our audience. He leans in, pressing his forehead against mine, and when I think he’s about to kiss me a second time, he exhales, closing his eyes, still as a statue.