I kiss her harder, deeper, one hand fisting in her carefully styled hair while the other splays possessively across her lower back, feeling that bare skin. She makes a small sound of surprise and melts against me.
More gasps. Someone mutters something about propriety.
Still don't care.
When I finally pull back, her eyes are glazed, lips swollen, breathing ragged. A flush has spread down her throat to disappear beneath her dress.
Perfect.
The chapel is silent except for a few shocked murmurs. I glance around, meeting eyes that quickly look away. Dimitri is smirking. Anya has her hand over her mouth, trying not to laugh. The priest looks deeply uncomfortable.
Good. Let them all see exactly how I intend to treat my wife.
"Mrs. Maksimova," I murmur against her ear, loud enough that the front rows can hear.
***
The reception is brief—by my design. I don't want to waste time with formalities when I have her to claim properly.
We stand in the church's small hall while guests offer congratulations. I keep one arm locked around Vera's waist, pulling her against my side. Letting everyone see the possessive hold I have on her.
Dimitri approaches with Anya. "Congratulations."
"Thank you."
Anya hugs Vera, whispers something in her ear that makes her blush. Good. Probably warning her what's coming.
Viktor brings us glasses of champagne. I take mine, then take hers before she can reach for it.
"Hey!"
"You get one glass," I tell her, meeting her eyes. "One. I want you sober tonight. Alert. Feeling everything I'm going to do to you."
She opens her mouth to argue.
"One glass, Vera," I repeat, voice dropping to that commanding tone. "Or none at all. Your choice."
She glares at me, but I see the moment she recognizes the futility of fighting. "One glass."
"Good girl." I hand her the champagne, watching as she takes a careful sip. "Slowly. Make it last."
Dimitri catches my eye from across the room, amusement written all over his face. He understands. This is about control. About making sure she knows exactly who's in charge tonight. About ensuring she's completely present and aware when I claim her.
Not that she needs alcohol to relax, her body already knows what it wants. But I'm not taking chances. Tonight is too important.
After thirty excruciating minutes of pleasantries, I lean down to Vera. "Time to go."
"Already?"
"I'm not waiting any longer." I take her hand, pull her toward the door. "We're leaving."
The car is waiting outside. I help her in, careful of her dress, then slide in beside her. The moment the door closes, cutting us off from the world, I pull her onto my lap.
"Pyotr—"
"Shh." I arrange her so she's straddling me, white dress pooling around us. "I need to touch you. I've been good all ceremony. Let me have this."
My hands find that bare skin on her lower back and I groan. Smooth. Warm. Mine to touch finally.
