My hands drop to her hips, thumbs stroking over her dress and the womanly curves beneath. She reaches for the nape of my neck, fingers threading through my hair, and I smile against her mouth because Aoife O’Shea is mine—properly mine.
And I’m going to spend the rest of my life worshipping her, loving her, and protecting her.
Our guests burst into raucous applause. Wolf whistles split the air, but I don’t take my lips from hers. I can’t.
Finally, the registrar clears her throat again, and Aoife jolts back, bringing her fingers to her swollen lips.
Ciaran mutters, ‘Jesus Christ.’
Abby laughs nervously.
The registrar claps her hands. ‘Congratulations, Mr and Mrs Kincaid.’
Our guests erupt again.
Mr and Mrs Kincaid.
The name settles around us like armour.
Protection.
Promise.
Outside, somewhere in this city, Rory Kavanagh’s world is about to burn.
And Aoife O’Shea just handed me the match.
But that is categorically not the reason I’m beaming like a lunatic.
34
AOIFE
It’s not the first time we’ve had an audience, and they certainly didn’t get the same show we gave the last one, but something about him claiming me in public set every cell in my body urgently screaming with the need to consummate this marriage—with whatever conditions he demands.
I can’t deny it.
I love him.
I choose him.
And I would choose him again.
Because I’ve realised over the past few weeks, a life with Dominic isn’t a sentence. It’s something to be savoured.
Dominic watches me knowingly as we sign the paperwork.
He feels the shift.
Knows I’ve submitted to him, even though I haven’t said a word. He feels it. Because he’s right. We’re soulmates.
The photographer snaps shot after shot of us smiling, his arms around my shoulders, on my waist, my back. They don’t leave my body for a single second. Confetti flies at usfrom every direction. Mama K, Sheila, and Dominic’s brothers, Cathal and Owen, congratulate us with hugs, handshakes, and kisses, welcoming me to the family. I’m introduced to another brother, Tristan, who is as mysterious, dark and distinguished as the other brothers.
When it’s time for the drinks reception, Dominic motions for Abby and Ciaran to fall into line behind us. Ciaran offers her his arm. She stares warily at it for a long beat before taking it. I don’t blame her. Not when she grew up listening to the same whispered rumours as I did. But I’ve come to know a different Dominic Kincaid. One I could never have dreamed of. There’s a darkness there, but it’s deeply decadent and promises a type of devotion I’ve only ever read about in romance novels. The neglected primal part of me can’t wait to peel back more layers. I’m too invested in the present to worry about the future.
I’m going to have sex with Dominic Kincaid. It was inevitable.
His big black eyes peruse mine as he beams at me. He has me. And he knows it.
