Page 51 of Precious Hazard

Without a better idea of what to do, I take the only possible action.

One that I promised myself I would never repeat.

I slam my mouth to hers.

Fire flashes to life inside my veins, scorching every cell in my body. It consumes me so completely that the cheers exploding around us are insignificant blips on my radar.Nothing matters. Nothing but the delectable woman clinging to me.

I devour her lips like a starving man. For weeks, I’ve imagined doing this, needing to know if my next taste of her would rival the previous two. It’s more. So much more. Sweeter. Intoxicating. Invigorating.

A jolt of pure power zips straight into my gut.

Or maybe a bit lower.

After a beat of hesitation, she returns the kiss with a vigor equal to mine and buries her fingers in my hair. Squeezing the strands, scraping her nails against my scalp. Dainty, sharp teeth sink into my lower lip. The wild little kitten bit me.

I bite her back.

Wanting to deepen the kiss, I tilt my head and feel something odd brush against my cheek. Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, I realize it’s her veil. Without breaking our lip-lock, I slide my hand to the top of her head, pull off the stupid band with that netty-looking thing, and throw it behind me. As if a black wedding dress wasn’t enough, she added a mourning veil to her attire.

“No one has ever defied me as you’d done today,” I murmur into her mouth.

“Good,” she mumbles back. “It’s imperative to keep your enormous ego in check.”

My lips twitch with silent laughter. She seems to be back to her old self again.

The raucous applause and cheers have died down, and only polite clapping remains. We probably have gone beyond the acceptable wedding kiss, but I don’t care about any of that rightnow. Tara’s flavor has become ambrosia to me. With every taste, my craving for her grows.

I slide my palms to her butt, lifting her higher, closer, settling her pelvis to rest over my crotch. She immediately wraps her legs around my waist, with only the layers of our clothing between us. Hopefully, that skirt of hers will hide just how hard my dick is. It’s been ready to break through my zipper since the instant our lips connected.

Pain shoots across the back of my head as she tugs on my hair, all the while her mouth keeps attacking my lips. Wild little kitten. As she lets go of my strands, her palms glide along my neck to settle on my tie. And then, she starts loosening the knot. I growl deep in my throat and seize her chin with my fingers.

“Your crisis management stunt is top-notch.” I smile, drinking in the sight of her. Flushed cheeks, hair in complete disarray, makeup smeared all over her complexion, and she’s panting like she’s suddenly been cut off from her life support. “After this, nobody will even remember your wedding dress.”

Two brilliant green pools, framed by the longest dark lashes, gaze at me in confusion. “What?”

“You trying to rip my clothes off at the altar, in front of all of our guests, may have shocked everyone into forgetting your black gown.”

She blinks, then slowly looks toward the gathered assembly, at the hundreds of people staring back at us, dumbfounded. The room is deathly quiet. The crowd is holding its collective breath.

Tara’s focus snaps to me. Instead of confusion, that panicked look is back in her eyes, and her lower lip is quivering.

“I….” The grip of her legs around my middle tightens. “I… Can we please leave?”

“That’s the plan. The reception has been set up in the banquet hall next door.”

Whatever color remained on her skin before, drains. As if unexpectedly exhausted, she wraps her arms around my neck and buries her face in the hollow of my throat. “I don’t think I can handle the crowd anymore today.”

My nostrils tingle with the fragrance of her strawberry shampoo. The sweet and slightly tart aroma of freshness, summer, and just her. I inhale it, soak it in. Revel in her essence. I should insist we attend our reception, make her suffer through hours of uncomfortable toasts and grand posturing. It would be a fitting punishment for what she pulled today. She needs to know from the beginning that my tolerance for disrespectful behavior is less than zero. Even when it comes to my wife.

But as I hold Tara’s trembling body in my arms, instead of a defiant wildcat, she seems like a neglected kitten, shivering in the rain. I’m instantly flooded with an urge to protect her, keep her away from harm. I want my arms to shield her from this day forward. I want to be the one she turns to for warmth.

Which is beyond idiotic, considering most of the time I can’t be in the same room as her without losing my fucking mind.

Not to mention, this kitten is more than capable of scratching my eyes out with her tiny claws.

But not today. She’s given up the fight.

My eyes scan the room, taking in the guests still seated in rows, waiting with visible confusion for us to make ourrecessional down the aisle. We should have exited by now, not continued to stand at the altar for minutes on end.

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