Page 81 of Entangled Vows
“Why? And why the fuck is there a lilac three-piece suit in there?”
She lit up like a Christmas tree. “To brighten your mood, obviously. I want you to wear colourful clothes!” She clapped her hands like a delighted child. “That lilac suit isyouroutfit for the day after tomorrow.”
He deadpanned. “For what, your funeral?”
“Our wedding reception,” she said sweetly, plucking the lilac blazer from its hanger and holding it up like a trophy. “I may have called the event planner. We discussed… and changed the theme. It’s floral now. The planner approves, and now our outfits are colour-coordinated. We match, Grizz.”
He stared at the blazers in the closet. Then at her legs. Then, damn it… at her chest. Big mistake.
He sucked in a breath and dragged his gaze back up like it was the hardest thing in the world. Covering his mouth with his fist, he forced himself to focus on the argument, not the sinful distraction standing inches away from him.
“You actually expect me to show up in front of our guests looking like an overpriced macaron?”
She closed the gap between them, slow and smug, until her body brushed against his. Soft curves teased hard muscle, like she knew exactly what she was doing. Then, with graceful ease, she reached up and brushed her fingers across his forehead, smoothing the furrow between his brows.
She leaned in deliberately, her lips dangerously close.
“I expect you to walk in looking like a man confident enough to match his wife’s purple gown. Which, by the way, is strapless. And custom-made. So yeah,you’rethe accessory here, mister.”
His brows shot up, and in one swift step, he closed the last inch between them, pressing her flush against him, chest to chest, heat to heat. “You’re being a brat.”
“So?”
“You think being a brat is cute?”
“Only when it gets under your skin like this.” She bit on her lower lip.
He gritted his teeth. “You’ve got a death wish.”
“Please. I marriedyou. That’s practically legal suicide.”
He stepped even closer, effectively trapping her between him and the wardrobe.
His voice dropped to a whisper. “You know what I really want to do right now?”
Her breath hitched, just for a second. But then, her chin tilted higher. “Burn all the pastels and run crying to your designer?”
He dipped his head, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. “Bend you over this counter and make you regret that smart mouth.”
“Tempting,” she whispered, her voice betraying a faint tremor.
He froze for a beat, his lips still near her ear. Her breath was uneven, just enough to make his restraint feel like a punishment to himself.
“Tempting?” he echoed, his voice like gravel.
He could have had her right there. Bent over, gasping his name, clawing at the edge of control. But not now. Very soon… but not now.
He stepped back, his jaw clenched tight. “We’re not doing this,Momo,” he said, his voice taking on a dangerous edge now. “And I am not wearing bloody lilac at our reception.”
She crossed her arms under her chest, the little motion pushing her ample breasts higher, which only made his concentration slip even further.
“You are, Grizz…” she said sweetly, “or I’ll skip the reception altogether. Let’s see how your social circle handles the gossip when the bride ghosts her own wedding party.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
She tilted her head back, locking eyes with him, and swayed forward just enough for her lips to brush the sharp line of his jaw. Then, slowly, deliberately, she trailed them down his throat and whispered. “Try me.”
Vikram’s entire body went rigid at the physical contact. Every muscle tightened, as a wave of heat flared through him like a fuse catching fire. His jaw clenched hard, and his fists balled at his sides.Fuck.For a heartbeat, he didn’t breathe. Because if he did, he’d haul her close and lose himself in her completely, forgetting every damn argument that sparked between them.
