Page 96 of His Bride

“Well, don’t strain yourself too much, love. I still need you around for that groveling I mentioned.” I claim her mouth, challenging any remaining sarcasm. She murmurs against my lips, her hands reaching up to wrap around my neck.

“Must admit,” she says, pulling away slightly, her breath hot against my cheek, “this is not exactly how I pictured groveling.”

“Oh, this is exactly the way I pictured it. In my head, you’ll be sucking my cock in about two minutes and twenty-two seconds.”

“Or,” she murmurs, “you’ll have your face buried between my legs in about two minutes and twenty-one seconds.”

“Dear God, I like a challenge.”

“Hey,” Maximo chirps from behind the wheel. “Caelian, keep your dick in your pants. Giana, keep those legs closed.”

“Spoilsport,” I retort. “Have you always been this boring?”

“I was born boring.” His eyes never leave the road.

“Maybe we should inject a little excitement into your life.”

“I'd prefer you don’t inject anything near me,” he says, and I choke on a laugh.

“I think he dislikes me.” I feign hurt as I withdraw from Giana. She laughs into my shoulder, her body shaking against mine.

“I think he despises us both equally,” she replies, her voice muffled against my jacket.

“Ah, equality. Always a good thing.”

My phone vibrates, and I quickly read Nicoli’s text.

“My father?” she asks as she stares at me holding my phone.

Something burns inside my chest at the mention of the cocksucker. “Nicoli’s dealing with him. As soon as I have you safe at the house, I’ll join him.”

“What are you going to do to him?” There’s a slight quiver in her voice, and I wish there weren’t. It means she still cares, which means I can’t kill the fucker.

I take a beat, pushing my anger way down in hiding. “I’ll make sure you get what you’re owed.” I take her chin and force her to look up at me. “And you’re owed a lot, New York. So fucking much.”

She shakes her head. “Right now, I don’t want to think about any of that.”

I take it as my cue, sliding my hand up her thigh, stopping just as I reach her apex. “I think we both need a little distraction.”

Her eyes flash with excitement. “What do you have in mind?”

“We’re here.” Maximo parks the car. “Thank God. Now, get out so I can go get baby Belucci.”

“You’re bringing him here, right?” Giana stares at me questioningly.

“Yes. Maximo will bring your brother straight here.”

“Thank you.”

I cup her cheek. “Those are just words, New York. How about some physical gratification?”

“Dear God, please get the fuck out of my car,” Maximo whines. “Get out. Get out. Get out.”

I wink at Giana, and she laughs as I take her hand. We both slide out of the back seat. The way Maximo speeds off down the driveway is almost comical, the tires kicking up gravel as he disappears into the night.

Giana starts toward the house. “Are we?—”

I pull her back, her hair whipping around her shoulders, then slam my lips onto hers in a deep, searing kiss that can only be described as cataclysmic. I pour all my pent-up frustration and repressed love for her into that kiss.

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