Page 193 of Little Sunshine

One more month.

It’d been a considerate offer, but completely unnecessary. I wouldn’t have invited Veronica to the wedding had she been alive, so why would I postpone it for her just because of how she died?

It had taken the authorities longer than it should’ve to admit, but there was no denying that the random stabbings around Vegas were linked. And for the rest of history and Wikipedia, my mother would forever be known as a victim of the serial killer.

More than anything, Veronica had wanted to be famous and adored. In death, she’d managed the first part at least. I didn’t need that solace, but it was there, nonetheless.

As messed up as it was to say, I still didn’t mourn her death as anything more than a general sadness at the loss of life. Even with the knowledge she’d been a random target of a deranged murderer, she had barely been a blip in my thoughts.

Fitting since I’d never been more than a blip in hers.

I would’ve been happy to elope, but just because I had no family to attend our wedding didn’t mean Ash’s couldn’t be there—even if I felt like everyone needed to wear name tags. He’d handled getting their flights and rooms booked to ensure that happened fast.

His parents weren’t what I’d expected. I’d already guessed by the short FaceTime I’d seen and their previous professions that they were traditional. Kind of old-fashioned.

The shock came when I’d found out that they knew about the gray—and sometimes very, very dark gray—work Ash did for Maximo.

Even more shocking was that they were okay with it. No. They approved of it. Even his father, the former judge.

Witnessing Ash be a funcle times eleven was an experience, too. I was unsure I wanted my own children. My family was missing the maternal gene, and I would never put a child through the hostility or the indifference I’d been raised with. But watching him play with the older kids or snuggle the younger ones had made my ovaries perk up.

I got the feeling his thoughts had frequently drifted to the same theoretical stork delivery. On multiple occasions over the weekend, he’d rubbed his thumb across the spot where my birth control implant was buried in my arm.

That would be a conversation for later. Much, much later. I had more pressing matters to focus on. Like the torture he was inflicting on me.

I inhaled through clenched teeth when the rope accidentally dragged across my clit.

“Done,” Ash said before I could attack him—with sex or violence. I was open to either at that point. He stood back to inspect his work.

Length of white rope looped around my thighs and between my legs before it wove up my torso to create a corset. The thin material would be easily hidden under my dress and didn’t serve the same purpose as the thicker rope he often used. It was decorative rather than functional.

A reminder that I was his.

A reassurance that he wanted me so badly, he’d tie me down to keep me if he had to.

A secret for just the two of us.

The longer he stared, the darker his expression grew. I could almost see his filthy thoughts, filled with all the depraved things he wanted to do to me.

Biting out a rough curse, he ran his hand across his beard. “Where’s your dress?”

“You are not allowed to see me in that before the ceremony,” I reminded him.

A single eyebrow arched. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re bossy?”

No.

Never.

I’d lived my life by flying under the radar. I never fussed or made waves. I never made demands.

But things were different with Ash.

I was different with Ash. Like the me I was always supposed to be.

“I must’ve learned it from you.” I turned to search for the rest of my stuff. “You’re teaching me already.”

Coming up behind me, he wrapped his arm around my waist and buried his face in my neck. His beard and his groan tickled. I wasn’t sure if it was a happy noise at the mention of teaching me anything or an aroused one at the feel of me in his ropes.

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