Page 58 of Stolen Bride for the Don

“What do you expect me to do the rest of the time, when I’m stuck at home? I hope you’re not expecting me to be a housewife?” He pauses, his fork halfway to his mouth. “Hudson!” I whisper. Did he really expect me to just sit on my laurels and play the little wifey for a whole year?

“I guess pursuing your past painting dreams isn’t enough?” he asks.

“You guess right.”

“What do you propose then?”

“I want to open a branch of my bar here.” The idea came to me a few days ago, and I’ve been ruminating over it. It’s the perfect solution to distract me from my circumstances.

“You mean to run it yourself?” His lips grow thin in disapproval.

I narrow my eyes. “Listen, I've thought about it for a while before bringing it up. I know it’s unconventional for the wife of a mafia don to not only work but also run a business, but I don’t see any harm in it as long as it’s in your territory. You can station your men as bodyguards there, of course,” I add to which he nods and gestures for me to continue.

I drop my fork and lean forward, moving my hands as I explain what I envision for my bar in the city.

CHAPTER 35

ANDREA

I end up truly enjoying our date. After our meal, we lean over the railing, my fear of the boat spontaneously capsizing thankfully taking a backseat as I take in the view. The cruise cuts through the Providence River, the riverwalk, Waterplace Park, the Fox Point Hurricane Barrier, and the Providence industrial harbor.

Not only is the tour visually appealing, but it’s incredibly informative as well. Hudson points out the notable landmarks and rattles off random facts about them like the Great Gale of 1815 that nearly wiped out the entire city. The Fox Point Hurricane Barrier, which spans the length of the Providence River was built in the sixties to protect the downtown area from floods and damaging storm surges.

He also talks about the I–95 bridge that connects interstate 95 with interstate 195 and how it was actually manufactured at Quonset point in Rhode Island. The bridge was transported via a barge ship. I actually remember hearing about it when I was young, but I didn’t much care about it at the time. Now it all feels surreal. Hudson talks about the city with such pride that it makes it even more interesting to me.

By the time we make it back to the harbor, the city lights are on, lending an even more charming quality to the night. Maybe it’s all the champagne I drank with our food on the yacht; regardless, I’m feeling blissfully light.

I stumble on the sidewalk as we make our way to the Jeep. Hudson chuckles, “You’re so drunk.” He helps me into the car.

“I’m not drunk.” He doesn’t answer as he closes the door. He walks around the car to get in on the other side; as soon as his seatbelt is buckled, I twist to face him. “I only had four glasses of champagne, hardly enough to get me drunk,” I point out. I might be slightly tipsy and have my guard down, but I’m not drunk.

He smirks and, fuck, his lips look so tempting that I lick mine. His eyes darken as he follows the path of my tongue. My core clenches, remembering how talented the organ is. Before I can stop myself, my seatbelt is off and I've crawled into his lap.

“Andrea, I–” I interrupt him by covering his mouth with mine. His lips are firm and hot. I lick their seam with a whimper, wanting in. His lips part, the tip of his tongue finding mine. Sparks are set off, sending white hot heat through my veins. I moan into his mouth; he leans forward blindly to press something. I hear a soft buzzing sound, and I glance back to see a partition going up between us and the driver.

Before I can comment, his hand lands on my hips; he adjusts me until I’m sitting in just the right position to feel him. “Damn it, Andrea, tell me to stop,” he groans when my hands sink into his hair.

“We have an hour drive to get home,” I whisper seductively into his ear. He growls, biting my neck. I clutch his head and grind against his lap, “We don’t have to stop.”

His head comes up, and he gives me a searing look. “If I have you now, I’m not giving you a chance to take a step back again.”

I would agree to anything right now if it means he would give in, but part of me actually wants to submit to his claim. “Yes, and the good thing is, I’m on birth control now,” I add, taunting him, and he groans deeply.

“Listen to me, Andrea. If we do this, you’re mine, and not just in name. But completely. Do you understand?”

I gulp, seeing how serious he is. But isn’t that what I want and what I’ve been craving since I woke up this morning, even though I was terrified that I might be pregnant? I’ve agreed to the contract. We’re getting married. We’ve had sex. Why do we have to stop? “I already said yes, why are you still talking?”

He growls, wrapping his fist around my hair to drag me closer until our lips meet again. I gasp at the brutal force with which he’s holding me, kissing me aggressively…if not possessively. His hands clench my ass tightly, dragging until there isn’t a sliver of space between us. Seeing him lose control turns me on so much that I moan into his mouth; he grabs the opportunity sucking my tongue.

He breaks the kiss, panting as his hand travels upward. He drags the front of my dress down to expose my breasts. He licks his lips and coos, “I’ve wanted to taste these for a long long time.” He buries his face in my chest, his tongue darting everywhere but to the aching points where I need him the most.

“Hudson,” I groan. Finally, he turns his head and sucks a nipple into the warm heat of his mouth. He drags his tongue over the sensitive flesh, and I arch my back with a cry. He thumbs my left nipple, flicking it as he suckles on the right. The sensation is overwhelming; as I grind on him, I realize that I could come like this.

He lifts his head from my breasts with a feverish fire in his eyes. He stammers, “I need inside you.” His hands go to my thong, and I scramble off his lap to help him rip it off. “Stay,” he commands, gripping the strings of the lacy material on either side of my hips. He pulls and the material gives way with a light ripping sound. Holy hell if that doesn’t send my arousal through the roof.

My hands go to his pants, and I fumble with his belt. He slaps my hands away impatiently and takes over. As soon as the fly is down, he draws out his thick cock. I catch my first real glimpse of him. I moan and run my hand over the thick length before bringing my lips down to taste him. He doesn’t let me indulge myself long as the act is making him buck his hips involuntarily. “Fuck, Andrea,” he growls, then raises me to expose my entrance. “Ready?”

I barely answer with a whimper and a nod before he inches in slowly. I stretch to take him in. I’m sopping wet, but he’s so big. Once his cock is fully inside me, he drops his head back with a groan and goes still.

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