A soft laugh leaves me. “We’re already married. Have a certificate and everything.”
He pulls back, and whiskey eyes hold mine. “I meanreal.No courthouse wedding, I mean big and fancy with a pretty dress and a flower girl and a party. Then let me take you away somewhere quiet and beautiful.”
“I don’t need all that.” I assure him.
“Maybe not, but you deserve it. You should be loved loudly, Niamh. Let me love you loud.”
“I don’t know enough people to have a big fancy wedding,” I tease, my heart thumping in response to his words, liking what he’s saying, falling so much deeper into the spell of him and everything he is.
“Invite the whole town.” He gives me a lazy half-smile. “Show them you own me in every way. Take my name, take my heart, take all of me.”
“I was thinking of a double barrel.” I press my finger to his lips, committing the feel of them to memory, how the curve feels just right under my touch. “Calloway-Knight sounds pretty good to me. Niamh Calloway-Knight.”
He groans and sucks my finger into his mouth. “You trying to make me hard, sweetheart?”
“It’s just a name,” I giggle.
“Your name sounds good with mine.”
“That’s just your possessive streak showing.” He stands and slowly folds himself over me, gently pushing me down onto the mattress as his mouth kisses down my cheekbone, to where my dimples usually sink and then to the corner of my mouth. I turn my face to capture his lips, but he moves away, to the bruise and then down my throat, teeth scraping.
“Possessive?” He mumbles against my skin, the vibration of his voice sending goosebumps over my body. “You’re damn right, sweetheart. I want to mark you as mine; the ring is not enough. I want to be in your soul, Niamh.”
A moan escapes me as his mouth wraps around my nipple above my shirt, but then his weight is gone and my eyes spring open to find him standing over me, a smirk on his mouth.
“Get ready for bed, Niamh.”
“Where are you going?” I frown.
“To get some cream for that bruise and you some water.”
I glance at the bulge in his pants, and he chuckles.
“Needy little thing,” He rasps, “Get ready for bed.”
My cheeks heat as he leaves the room, and I get up, heading through to the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash away the events of the night. By the time I’m done and dressed in one of Roman’s t-shirts, he’s back, a glass of water in hand and the cream he was talking about in the other. His eyes slowly roll down me, heating as they pass and igniting that previous need he left me with.
“I’m trying so fucking hard not to snap, baby,” He rasps, “You need to rest and heal but fuck me, ifyou keep looking at me like that, I’m going to sink so far into you, you’ll feel me there for weeks.”
My thighs press together as I swallow, watching him advance. He hands me the water, which I guzzle down, his hand flexing as he heads into the bathroom to get ready for bed too.
When will it be enough? I wonder as I climb under the sheets and wait for him to return, my body feeling too tight. I want more, always more with him, and I never thought I’d ever feel that. It’s an insatiable need, a craving only he can satisfy.
My eyes eat him up much the same way he looked at me, the tight boxer briefs clinging to his skin, outlining his thick cock. Muscles flex as he walks, and veins protrude beneath his navel, where the thin line of hair travels down and disappears under the waistband of his boxers. Thick, strong thighs, his muscles honed from years working on this ranch. He is a powerhouse, strong and masculine, beauty carved in stone.
The bed dips as he climbs in beside me and shifts until he sits in front of me, pressing out some of the liquid from the tube onto his fingers. I tilt my head to allow him to massage it in, his touch as light as a butterfly wing.
“I never want to see you hurt, Niamh.” His voice is layered with gravel.
I say nothing as he tends to me, caring in that deep way of his, because that’s what he does. He takes everything onto his shoulders, holding all the weight for the people he loves. This ranch, his brothers, the animals and now me too.
He is safety.
His arms wrap around me, pulling me into him, where he then holds on all night, never letting go.
“We will need to get the sheriff’s department involved,” The investigator hits pause on the recording from last night. “Make an official report and statement, but I think this is it, Roman. He’s admitted it. It’s at least enough to have him arrested for assault on your wife.”
“I want him in prison,” Roman growls, “Nothing less.”
