I shrug. “Poor you. Is that what you want, my sympathy? News flash, if you weren’t such a dick then people wouldn’t think that I need rescuing from you. Ever think of that?”
“Watch your tongue.”
“Watch yours.” I match his scowl with one of my own.
Seething, Cian unfolds, standing to his full, imposing height. “I told you to get your hand off of my wife.”
“Make me. You obviously can’t handle a woman like her, but I can, and?—”
Cian punches him. His reach is so long that he doesn’t even need to move from the other side of the table to lay the guy out. One second he’s standing beside me and the next his unconscious body’s splayed on the floor. Shocked gasps erupt from the other diners.
The maître d’ appears instantly. “I am so sorry, sir. You shouldn’t have been disturbed. I’ll have this accident cleaned up at once.”
As if the guy on the floor is nothing more than spilled wine, several staff people in white uniforms pick him up and carry him away. As soon as the black double doors swing shut, the rest of the diners go back to their meals, and it’s as if nothing everhappened. Maybe it’s just another Tuesday around here? Who knows.
We spend the rest of our meal eating in strained silence.
On our way back to the bungalow I finally murmur, “You didn’t have to hit him.”
Cian scoffs. “Oh, I most certainly did. He overstepped.”
“How? By touching my shoulder, or by saying you weren’t man enough to handle me?”
“Both.” Cian glowers. “No one touches my wife without consequence. I should have broken his fingers.”
I huff. “That’s ridiculous. Besides, why do you care? It’s not like we’re anything but an arrangement anyway.”
He abruptly stops. “Nothing but an arrangement?Jesus!While that may be true, you aremy wife. Mine. We took oaths before God and man, and I will uphold them until I leave this world. We’ve entered into the most sacred of unions. I don’t take that lightly.” He looks earnest, but I know he’s full of shit. “I’ll never let anyone hurt you,” he promises.
Lies. A strangled noise escapes my throat. “No, you probably want to carve up my face so that I’m nottoo pretty, so I won’t draw unwanted attention from other men and?—”
Cian’s fingers wrap around my throat as he pulls me toward him, bending down until his face is level with mine. “Don’t you dare say such awful things. I’dneverhurt you.”
I swallow thickly. “Now who’s lying?”
He searches my eyes, for what I’m not sure, but he must see something he wants. His mouth suddenly crashes against mine. His kiss tastes like lust and frustration.
CHAPTER 8
Cian
I’m lost in the taste of her, in the feel of her, and I don’t give a fuck about how unhinged I am right now. Or how I swore to myself I’d never kiss her lips—only to do just that.
She drives me crazy. Everything about her makes me insane, from her sharp tongue, to her death glares, to her pouty lips. I crave to devour her whole, as much as I desperately need to push her away and save myself.
Right now self-preservation is the furthest thing from my mind.
Slowly, hesitantly, she melts beneath my touch, until she’s kissing me back. My tongue demands entry and she opens up. A satisfied hum sounds in the back of my throat. I palm her ass, pulling her close so she can feel how hard she makes me just by existing.
No one—not some sleaze in a restaurant or anyone else—is going to steal this woman away from me. I’ll mark her in every way that I can, from my lips, to my touches, to my cum.
Without breaking our kiss, I lift her up and she wraps her legs around my hips. I walk the rest of the short distance to our bungalow, savoring the taste and feel of my wife.
Fumbling to get the door open, I finally manage it, then kick it closed behind us. I turn, pressing Elena’s back against the door. Unable to resist a second longer, I grind my erection against her hot core.
I need her. Now. With the same urgency that a drowning man needs air.
“Wait.” She pulls away from me, and frustration tightens my jaw. “Did you know my brother?”
