Page 86 of Brutal Vows
Quinn interrupts vehemently, “I do. To all of it. Now get to the kissing part.”
“You can’t kiss her until she says her vows!”
“Then get on with it!”
The priest looks at the vaulted ceiling for a beat, then turns to me. “Do you, Reyna…”
That’s all I hear. After that, everything is drowned out by the high-pitched buzzing in my ears and the roar of my pulse underscoring it.
I’m sweating. Trembling. Hyperventilating so badly, I’m in danger of passing out. This must be a dream or a nightmare, some impossible fantasy world I’m trapped in where I agreed to marry a stranger to save my niece’s life.
Except Quinn’s not a stranger. Not a total stranger, anyway.
But he is the one who described this union as a “fake” marriage.
A fake marriage specifically including sex.
So we’re both here by obligation, but he’s already got an advantage. He’s gained a concession from me, but I haven’t gained anything.
Except another lifetime commitment I didn’t want.
Suddenly, I realize the sanctuary has gone dead silent.
There’s an air of expectation, like a collective held breath. I look around in panic, unsure what’s happening because I’ve been lost in my thoughts, when the priest gently prompts, “This is where you say ‘I do,’ lass.”
Panicking, I blurt, “Where’s the ring?”
A ripple of laughter goes through the crowd.
Quinn’s glower indicates he doesn’t find anything funny.
Declan reaches into the jacket of his tux. He pulls out a folded white silk pocket square. He unwraps it and hands Quinn a ring.
Quinn takes my left hand in his and slides the ring onto my finger.
It glitters there, big and bold, red and brilliant, as vivid as a drop of fresh blood.
Shocked to see the red diamond, I whisper, “You said you bought one of the pink ones.”
“I did. I returned it for this one.”
“Why?”
He gazes down into my wide eyes with the full force of his potent masculinity engulfing me.
“I decided I needed something to remind me every day that my heart can’t be trusted. What could be better than a stone the exact color of your lips?”
That makes me lightheaded. “It’s lipstick, you big dummy. Also, that makes not one iota of sense.”
He growls, “Maybe I’m lying. You’re familiar with the concept. Now say ‘I do,’ viper, and give me that goddamn mouth.”
I draw my final breath of freedom. I make a silent prayer for strength. Then, so softly it’s hardly even a breath, I say, “I do.”
Quinn knocks the bouquet out of my hands, yanks me against his body, and kisses me.
It’s hard and demanding at first. I can tell he expects me to resist or twist away, but when I wind my arms up around his shoulders and sink into him, his mouth gentles. Cradling me in his arms, he sweeps his tongue against mine, the pressure as soft as his lips are.
Within seconds, I’m lost to it.
