“You’re overthinking this. You aren’t getting graded. This isn’t a test, and no one is judging you. You literally can not mess this up.” She snorts and glares at me.
“That’s what you said about boiling eggs.” I groan as I remember the smell that took half a day to get rid of.
“Rosario, you’re stalling.” She sighs and leans in again.
“Closed lips?” I nod so that our noses rub together.
Her lips brush mine once, twice, and on the third, her mouth opens around my bottom one with a little moan. I let my lips follow hers and slip my tongue along her top one in return.
“Mmm,” her hands move to my shoulders, and she straddles me to get a better angle, causing me to groan when her core rubs up against my cock.
My hands forget the no-touching rule and grab her hips.
“Rose, wait,” I say around her lips as she grabs my hair and kisses me harder.
It’s her tongue invading my mouth now, and I’m lost. I pull her closer, slipping my hands under the fucking sweatshirt that’s been taunting me and running them up her back.
My touch seems to break the spell, and she stumbles off me, barely managing to keep her footing.
“Oh, um. We should probably get ready. Don’t want to be late!” I smile and adjust myself as she finally makes her escape.
Soon sweetheart.
Tonight you’ll be my wife, and I’ll have nothing but my will to stop me from robbing you of all that innocence. My lips pull up into an evil grin cause even I know my will is crumbling by the fucking second, and the sick part is I’m looking forward to when it does.
Chapter Seven
Rosario
Iam in way over my head!
I managed to avoid making eye contact with the rest of the morning, but we’re pulling up to the church now, and the way I’m crushing the garment bag in my hands is going to leave me standing in a wrinkled mess of a dress for my wedding.
WEDDING.
My eye drifts to Bruno, who’s driving us carefully down the mountain into town after another massive snowfall. He’s already dressed in a suit with the jacket hanging off the back of his seat, and all I keep thinking is that this man is about to become my husband.
In a suit that’s not wrinkled.
I frown at my own thoughts and relax my hands, taking a deep breath. It’s natural to be nervous, right? I’m just like every other normal bride, except I didn’t have a choice and could end up dead if I don’t do this.
No pressure.
“Hey, your thinking is getting mighty loud.” Bruno tries for levity but fails.
“This isn’t how my life was supposed to go. We shouldn’t be doing any of this.” I look out the window again and sigh.
“I know, sweetheart, and I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make up for it.” The amount of anger and sorrow in that one statement makes my eyes fill with tears.
I want to place blame, but this isn’t his fault either.
“I know you will,” I whisper as I wipe away my tears.
We drive the rest of the way in silence, and he hesitates getting out of the truck to help me, drawing my attention back to him. He seems like the nervous one now, and somehow that calms me slightly.
“What is it?” I ask, reaching for his hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
The gesture catches us both off guard, and we have an awkward moment that leads to laughter before he finally allows me to take his hand.
