Page 127 of Brutal Collateral

She glares at me with the rage of a groom-eating bridezilla. “What the hell do you want?”

I laugh, even though I should be mad that she talks to me that way. The sick fuck in me gets off on it. I get hard at her balls and confidence to stand her ground and speak her mind.

“Still mad at me, I see.” I bend down to kiss the top of her head.

“I said, what do you want?” She swings at my head, but I duck back. “What can you possibly want? You’re gettingeverythingyou want.”

“Kiss me.”

Her eyebrows cinch together. “Why?”

“It’s our wedding day. And I want my bride to kiss me.”

“This is getting old.It’s our wedding day, kiss me,” she mocks me.

Murmuring curses under her breath, she gathers her skirt together to stand. But I bend down and scoop her up by the waist, pulling her toward me, her feet dangling off the floor.

“I said, kiss me.”

“I’m mad at you.”

“You won’t be in five seconds. But I want a kiss because I’m your husband and I asked for one.”

She throws her arms around me and plants her soft lips on mine, our eyes locking.

“Thank you,” I say and let her down. “Turn around.”

Blinking up at me, she obeys my command with those big eyes. When I tug on the ball gown’s zipper, she stops me. “Can’t you wait until the weddingnight?”

I lean into her ear. “If I came here to fuck you, you’d be on that bed taking my cock by now with that dress hiked up around your waist.”

“Charming. Then why are you undressing me?”

“I have a surprise.”

“We have to be downstairs in ten minutes.”

“I’m the king and you’re my queen, lovely bride. We’ll get down there when we’re bloody good and ready.” I yank the zipper down and all but pull the dress off her.

She stands there in a strapless bra and a tiny white thong.Fuck me.

“I amend my earlier statement. Knowing this is what you had on under that dress, I’d have sliced it off with my knife.”

“Why am I half naked? Or do you have an even more hideous dress for...” She stops when I grab the garment bag from the door. “What’s that?”

“A gift. For you.” I hand it to her.

Blushing, she unzips it only a few inches and then drops her head.

“Griffin,” she moans my name. “Thank you. Wait... There are two dresses in here.”

She hangs the garment bag back on the hook and takes out the dress she picked out from the wedding boutique. In both blackandwhite. “But you said black would insult your mother?”

“She’ll get over it.” I lean on the dresser and cross one leg over the other ankle. “But I got it made in white, too. It’s your choice, Ava.”

I’d gone back a few days later and paid enough money to make sure they would be ready.

Ava’s eyes light up, gazing at the white dress. With one more glance at the black one she says, “I can wear this one to a fundraiser.”

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