Page 56 of Claimed By A Blue Eyed Menace

Shooter’s body tensed slightly, his gaze dark and unreadable as he turned to me. “What happened to not askin’ questions you really don’t wanna know the answer to?”

I sighed, chuckling as I nudged him. “Fair enough.” But the truth was, I was curious. Curious about everything.

This man—myman—was a killer, a strategist, a boss bred from generations of crime, yet somehow, I trusted him with my life. This wasn’t the life I had imagined for myself, and yet, I wasn’t scared. I finally knew what being with Shooter really meant. Loyalty. Protection. Bloodshed.

And I wasn’t naive—I knew that this world would always come with violence. That there would be nights I’d be lying awake, wondering if he’d make it home. But I also knew he’d always fight to. And maybe that’s what made all of this real.

I was about to plan a real wedding to a man I had gone from tolerating… to wanting… to loving. I turned to Shooter, looking up at him as he watched the room, his presence strong, his energy powerful. He caught me staring and smirked. “What?”

I shook my head, a soft smile on my lips. “Nothing.”

He tilted his head. “Nah, tell me.”

I exhaled, leaning into him a little more. “I love you.”

Shooter’s gaze softened just slightly. “I love you, too, Mrs. Mosley.”

SHOOTER

I a i n ’ t n e v e rpictured myself on no damn honeymoon. That was some fairytale shit I didn’t think gangstas like me got to live. But there I was—on a private island on the coast of Belize—watching my wife sway through white sand in a silk robe that barely covered that body I couldn’t get enough of. And her little baby bump? That shit had me grinning like I ain’t have bodies buried across five states.

Parker was glowing. Skin smooth and gleaming under the sun. Belly just poking out enough to remind me that I did that. Planted something real in her ass. And it was crazy because even with all the blood I got on my hands, she still chose to love me. Or maybe she ain’t had a choice—after all, I claimed her from the beginning.

“You gon’ stare or come rub this baby oil in?” she called over her shoulder, looking back with a smirk that made my dick twitch.

I walked over slowly, lazy with it, eyes raking down her thighs. “You askin’ or beggin’, ma?”

“I don’t beg, remember?” she teased, lying back on the lounger.

I chuckled. “That right?”

The waves crashed behind us. Gulls cried overhead. The scent of coconuts and grilled lobster wafted through the salty breeze. I lowered myself to my knees, pulled her robe open, and palmed that stomach first. I kissed just under her navel before I slicked oil across her soft skin with slow, circular strokes.

“You good?” I murmured against her belly.

She nodded, breath hitching when I slipped my hand higher, brushing over a nipple on 'accident.’ “Sebastian…”

“What?” I said innocently, kissing her collarbone. “I’m just followin’ orders. Rubbin’ the oil in.”

Her laugh was low and husky. “You’re trouble.”

“Nah, trouble is the nigga over there on the deck starin’ at you like he tryna memorize how your ass move.”

She froze, brows furrowed. “What? Where—”

“Don’t worry about it,” I growled, rising to my feet.

“Shooter, don’t start nothing!”

But I was already moving. Nigga was leaned against the bar with sunglasses on, sipping some overpriced island drink and staring my woman like he ain’t know she was spoken for. And maybe he didn’t. But he was about to learn.

I stepped to him and he barely had time to react before I cracked him in the face so hard he dropped his drink and his shades. Body hit the deck hard, drawing stares from everybody.

His boy rushed over. “Yo, it’s not that serious!”

I just looked down at the dude on the deck holding his bloody nose and said, “Next time you look at a man’s wife, make sure you ready to get fucked up over it.” I turned back toward Parker, who had her face in her hands, laughing despite herself. Security rushed over—our security. I waved them off. I was good.

Back on the sand, Parker was shaking her head when I approached. “You embarrassed me,” she said, eyes dancing. “Again.”

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