“Enjoying yourself?”
She squeaked under her breath, and sat down hard on the window seat. “I thought you were sleeping.”
“I was.”
“You were spying on me.”
“I was watching my wife.”
She frowned. “We’re not married yet.”
I studied her for a long moment, unsure how to answer. I knew she wasn’t enthused about marrying me, but since the plane ride, she seemed to have resigned herself to her fate. The realization didn’t sit well with me. Resignation…was that what I wanted from my wife?
“You’re right,” I said briskly, standing. “The chaplain will be here soon, so get dressed.”
She ignored me, which I was beginning to pick up as a pattern. “No, I don’t want to get married here.”
“Well, where do you want to get married?”
She stood and began pacing back and forth, swaying in contemplation. “How about the courthouse?”
“So you can make a break for it again? I think not.”
“No, I just don’t want to get married in the kitchen or wherever. If I have to marry you, at least let me get married properly. Why can’t we do it in a courthouse anyway? Is that a Russian thing?”
I eyed her and she leveled her gaze right back at me. “No. Also I’m an American citizen too and I spent a lot of time here.”
“Oh,” she said slowly. “Alright, how about this…I’ll make you a deal.”
I went to the closet to dress, leaving the door open a crack. As I put on a pair of gray pants, I couldn’t keep the smile from my face. She had spirit and I liked it.
“Alright,” I said, pulling on my shirt as I emerged. “What’s your proposal?”
She drew near and I glanced down at the little peaks of her nipples, visible beneath the thin fabric of my t-shirt. Her gaze darted up like a cautious animal, like a deer hesitant to approach.
“I’ll kiss you whenever you want if you let us get married in a courthouse,” she said quietly.
I forced my face to remain impassive. “Really? What makes you think I want that?”
“You looked at me,” she said. “Just now. And when you stood up earlier, I could see…you were turned on.”
We both looked down at my groin and I felt my cock twitch in my pants. I liked the fact that she’d looked long enough to notice that I was hard when I’d gotten up from the bed. Into my mind flooded the image of her delicate hand wrapped around my cock, her mouth on mine, hot tongue curling past my lips. Goddamn it, I was going to get hard again if I didn’t get my thoughts under control. I shook my head to clear it.
“Alright,” I said. “It’s a deal. I’ll call the chaplain, tell him we’re getting married in the courthouse instead.”
She walked up to me, looking me in the eye, and extended her hand. “Shake on it.”
Suppressing a smile, I took her fingers in mine. They were small and soft, but her grip was firm. When I released her, she ducked away as if she expected me to seize her and make good on our deal then and there. I watched her disappear into the bathroom, wondering what she tasted like.
I finished dressing in a gray suit and strapped my guns to the shoulder holster beneath my jacket. Then I took them off and slipped one in the holster at the small of my back. Charleston was one of the safest cities for someone like me because there was almost no mafia presence of any kind. That was why I liked it so much—it was the reprieve that I craved from a world I’d never wanted to be a part of in the first place.
When I was done dressing, Sienna was still in the bathroom, so I went downstairs for an espresso to help jolt me awake. I had a feeling that going into Charleston with this woman was going to be anything but dull.
She came clattering down the stairs a few minutes later. I was leaning over the kitchen counter, finishing my espresso, and the minute I laid eyes on her, I was glad that my groin was hidden. She was fucking stunning. The plain white dress hugged her body like a glove and stopped just above her knees, giving me a glimpse of her thighs. Her legs ended in a pair of beige heels and there was a delicate, gold chain fastened around her right ankle.
Her hair was pinned at the nape of her neck. As I drew near, the little wisps hanging around her face caught my attention and I fought the urge to brush them back. God, why did everything in me want to put my hands on this woman? To make her mine.
Mine alone.