“I’m so excited to introduce you to more of the MacTavish clan when you come here for the wedding.”
“Wedding? What wedding?” Yep, she’s on point. I can almost hear her ears perk up.
“Well, mine. And Mason’s obviously. There’s an unwritten law that any wedding that did not take place on the grounds of the MacTavish estate - and none of them did, by the way - the couple is required to get re-married to satisfy the Lady Elspeth. This is Mason’s grandmother and a woman you do not say ‘no’ to. I’ve been learning a lot about her from the other girls. Arabella managed to escape her fate for a whole fifteen months by getting knocked up. I don’t see an out here for Mason and me.” I’m laughing, even though it sounds dire.
***
I never needed a big wedding, plus, we already had one with that nightmare ceremony in Seattle. But the Lady Elspeth did point out that I didn’t have any say in that particular event.
After the wheels were in motion for the new ceremony, Mason gave me a tender kiss and said, “You are now witnessing the inexorable juggernaut that is the MacTavish Wedding Machine. There will be no respite until it is done.”
“You realize that is in no way reassuring,” I scowled.
***
“So, when is this wedding?” Lucia asks, “Can I be a bridesmaid?”
“Of course, that is a given. Can you keep Mom occupied with shopping for yet another mother of the bride's dress?”
“Handled,” she says confidently. “So, I’m sure with all those big, handsome men, there might be some younger cousins running around? Some guys who aren’t quite as scary - and hairy - as the older ones?”
Laughing, I look across the room where Mason is clearly trying to go over some contracts on his laptop. “Well, husband? Are there any smoking hot teenage MacTavishes?”
“Please do not ever use those two words again,” he says, shuddering slightly.
“What?” I rise from the couch by the window, strolling over to him with maybe an extra bit of sway in my hips. “Smoking?” I lean closer, running my tongue over my lips. “Hot?”
“I don’t know what’s happening here, but I’m hanging up,” Lucia says, hastily ending the call.
“I probably should have muted myself, huh? I just traumatized my sister.”
“She’s a Mafia princess and you think that’s the worst thing she’s ever heard?” Mason says, still engrossed on his laptop, but one corner of his mouth curves up. A real smile, one meant just for me.
“Well, that’s mean. You’re supposed to commiserate with me.” I’m trying to pout. Unsuccessfully.
He shuts his laptop, putting it on the coffee table. “Why don’t you come over here?”
“Well, I don’t know,” I say haughtily. “Are you going to be nice to me?”
Mason’s head lowers slightly and the afternoon light makes his eyes glint, like a wolf’s. He looks a little feral and a chill runs up my spine. “Oh, baby,” he purrs. “I’mnotgoing to be nice to you.”
Backing across the living room, my eyes widen as he rises, casually pulling off the silver silk tie he’s wearing. My nerve breaks and I bolt, racing across the hallway and loping up the stairs.
My stamina’s a lot better now that I’m back to working out every day, but I’m pretty sure none of my Krav Maga moves are going to work on my husband.
He’s right behind me, I can hear his guttural chuckle. Oh, my. That means all his bad bits are coming out to play tonight.
I race past the door to the master bedroom and hit the stairs to the third floor. By the time I get to the roof, I’m gasping for air and pulling myself along with the handrail.
Mason is right behind me. Just a few steps, half a staircase down and it occurs to me as I throw open the door to the rooftop garden that he’s herded me here.
“We should just calm down and- and talk,” I sputter, hands out in front of me, like that’s going to fend him off. The last of the afternoon sun makes his blond hair gleam and runs lovingly along his brilliantly colored tattoos, visible now that he’s casually shed his expensive dress shirt. He is, I notice with some apprehension, still holding that silver tie.
I’m still backing away and he’s still strolling toward me, hands pushing down his trousers and kicking off his shoes. His tight black boxer briefs are not hiding anything. His dick, thick and hard, is pressing against the thin fabric and really givingthat waistband a workout. My hand reaches out without even thinking about it, and-
“No! Not up here! Not where everyone can see us!” I gasp, looking wildly around at the other houses. Michael’s next to us is dark and empty as usual, but the lights are on in both houses across the square and I can see Luna chasing one of her little ones around the living room, laughing.
“Yes, up here, my bad gi- my bad lass.” He reaches out, grabbing a fistful of my hair at the base of my neck. “I’m going to tear off those tight little yoga pants and then, I’m going to tear intoyou. I’m going to shove every inch of me inside you, and you can cry and fight all you want. Unless you say your safe word, you’re taking me.”
