I let out a throaty half-laugh and swivel on the stool so my back faces him. “Not interested.”
I feel him before I see him.
One second I’m turned away, the next he’s yanking the stool so I’m forced to face him.
“Do you wake every morning and decide to be a bratty little princess?” He lifts my coffee from my hand and takes a slow sip. “Funny how someone so pretty and bitter likes her coffee so sweet.”
A lock of dark hair falls across his brow, and those rich hazel eyes of his pin me in place. Being this close, with hisfull attention fixed on me, sends heat flashing through my veins before I can shut it down.
I steady my breathing according to my training. In through my nose. Out through my mouth and my pulse should follow.
“Wonderful,” I say, slipping off the stool and giving him the advantage of height. “Now you’ve contaminated the only thing I enjoy in this try-hard apartment. God knows where your mouth’s been.”
“Oh, princess…”
He sets the mug down and catches my arm before I can step away, pulling me into his bare chest.
His mouth lowers to the side of my face, breath warm against the shell of my ear.
“You hate that you feel it, don’t you,” he says, his voice deep. “That quick little pulse under your skin when I get this close to you.”
When I try to pull away, his fingers clamp around my arm.
“From the moment I said my vows,” he continues, gaze dragging over my face, “I decided my lips would only touch yours. And wherever else you beg me to put them.”
My pulse betrays me, fluttering exactly where he’d pointed out.
“I’d advise you to take a step back before I break every bone in the hand that’s touching me,” I say, even though my heart is racing hard enough to bruise my ribs. “I warned you not to touch me.”
He laughs in a low rumble and lifts his other hand, catching the hem of the sweatshirt I’m wearing.
“I’m already all over you, princess,” hemurmurs, fingers grazing the fabric. “My name. My clothes. My cologne. You’re wrapped in me whether you admit it or not. The sooner you accept that, the sooner we can consummate our happy marriage.”
“You have big shoes to fill, Bronx.” I lift my chin and gaze into his eyes. “My boyfriend was a demon under the sheets. That’s what happens when two people actually love each other.”
For a fraction of a second, the gold flecks in his hazel eyes vanish as his pupils darken, widening until there’s almost nothing left but black.
His hand stills.
“What did I tell you about that word, Tierney?” he asks, the controlled tone he uses chilling.
“I’m your husband. He’s a memory. And I don’t tolerate ex’s vying for a woman who already belongs to me.” A muscle ticks in his jaw, but his voice stays level. “Do I need to remind you how easily problems in Ireland can disappear?”
I close my eyes for a beat, pulling anger up like armour.
“Aww, Bronx,” I say, meeting his gaze now with a taunting smile. “Are you really that intimidated by a guy who doesn’t need a flashy penthouse as an extension of his big fat ego?”
His thumb drifts to the band I haven’t taken off yet, turning it slightly.
“I like this ring on your finger,” he says, gaze holding mine. “It suits you, wife, very much.”
His mouth hovers near my temple again, not touching this time, and I can’t help the shiver he gives me.
“You’re mine now,” he says. “And I’m going to show you how insignificant your past really is.”
“If you’ll excuse me,” I say, shoving into his chest with my shoulder. “I’m going to take a shower.”
He releases me without argument and steps back.
