Then Declan shoves on his own ring and kisses me in the most inappropriate wedding kiss imaginable. It’s hungry, carnal, and slightly feral. A hard kiss, a wild kiss, and his tongue fucks mine.
It’s a hot kiss, and I can’t feel my toes as I rise up to melt into him. My stomach is doing a wild pagan dance, and my panties dampen as he pulls me in against him. His cock hardens against me.
When he breaks the kiss, he whispers, “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
“I need to get my bag, I need…”
“To breathe?” His smile’s cocky with a full-on dimple. I both hate him for it and want him for it. He’s a mess to my system, and I thank the moon and stars and everything else that this is a fake marriage, and I’ll never have to see him again when Daddy is found.
I nod, and I start to move away from him, but he doesn’t let go of my arm. “Wait by the door.”
He stops to talk to his brother, and a sea of people pat him on the back. I know there aren’t that many here, maybe fifty or so, but it feels like I’m being crushed, and the oxygen’s been sucked out of the room. I stumble to the door, people congratulating me as I go, and I pass them with a smile and a jumble of meaningless words.
Amanda Johnson stands by the door, her arms folded. She’s a gifted dancer with a mean streak. Her face twists with contempt. “Looks like head dancer isn’t enough. Had to get your mommy to buy you a husband. I bet he’s a fuck boy and I’ll be under him in no time.” She flashes a nasty smirk. “I’ll make it my mission.”
My vision blurs and bleeds red. “Touch him, and I’ll rip your uterus out of your throat.”
Horrified at my words…what the hell even was that?... I push past and race to the dressing room. Once there, I wait for the heat to stop, the trembling to subside, but it doesn’t. I shove my bits and pieces into my dance bag and then I snatch up the last pile of cards and wrapped gifts on the dresser. There aren’t many, so I shove them in, too, and leave the flowers for whoever wants them.
“I told you to wait.”
I spin around and glare. “Did we have to do that?There?”
“Yes. Time to get home.”
“I don’t have a home.” I spit the words.He takes my bag and my arm and pulls me out onto the side street where a car’s waiting. I don’t recognize this driver.
He guides me into the backseat and then slides in next to me.
“Sure you do.”
“Yours? That’s as much of a home as Mom’s. I wish?—”
“What?”
I shake my head. “Nothing.”
“The apartment your father got you. Be nice and I’ll get the keys, Molly. After all, this is our wedding night and the start of wedded bliss.”
“With you?” I snap.
And he pulls me into his arms and drops a kiss on my lips, lightly biting my lip. “Wedded bliss, hot sex, getting through this fake marriage as best we can. We have the chemistry.”
“I don’t like you.”
“Sure you do.”
“No,” I say, hand splayed in his waistcoat, “I don’t. You kissed someone in front of me. When I thought we were a thing.”
“She was a job, and you were a distraction.”
I try to pull away, but he holds me tight.
“A distraction, Molly, one I didn’t expect, and one I couldn’t keep my hands off. Also, we weren’t together.”
I swallow hard and I’m about to argue that when the car comes to a stop. I look out the window. We’re on the East Side, First Avenue, maybe in the Fifties, outside a pretty building, one that’s large and surrounded by trees with a spacious courtyard. A man opens the door. “Sir.”
Sir?
