Page 152 of Forced Vows

"No one is going to know it was supposed to be a single night of sex. We're getting married, remember?"

"Right." She's back to twisting the hem of the t-shirt she's wearing. "Let's not mention it was a club in Portland though."

"That could cause more trouble with your uncle than either of us wants to deal with right now," I agree.

She gives me a disbelieving look. "Somehow I don't think you care about trouble for my uncle."

"I care if it causes you stress." It is my job to protect her after all.

Even from censure from her family.

Róise blows out an exasperated breath. "Could you just act like an ass for a while? I think I need you not to be so perfect right now."

I'm far from perfect, but with her permission to be a selfish ass, I swoop down and carry her to the only bedroom with a bed in it. It's only a single, but we don't need a king sized mattress to fuck each other's brains out.

Chapter 49: RÓISE

Miceli waits to pull out his asshole routine until after we've had sex twice more.

Once with him pounding my vagina into submission and another in the shower, where he rubs us both off with his hardon pressed against my clit and my legs wrapped tightly around him.

I finish pulling my jeans on over my naked nether regions. I have a feeling riding back to Long Island on the back of Miceli's bike is going to be a whole new experience for me.

"I trust you won't be going to your uncle and asking for a different groom again." Miceli slips into his black leather jacket and his stoic underboss persona all in one go.

"He told you about that?" I ask, feeling kind of bad. "You never said anything."

"Neither did you."

"Because Uncle Brogan refused to even consider it."

"You want to marry someone else? Another De Luca? Maybe you've seen my cousin and you think he's more your style. Or you think the wife of a capo can be a movie star."

"Uh, I don't even know who you are talking about. And I'm wearing your ring, so I don't know why we're talking about it either."

"I'm just confirming that this time, you're going to follow through on your promise."

"I'm not the one who tried to back out of their promise," I deny hotly.

Man, when he goes for jerk status, he goes all in.

"Then we're in agreement."

"Yes."

"You are going to marry me at the end of September."

"Yes!"

"Good."

"If you're looking to win the award for least romantic proposal ever, you've got it in the bag," I snark.

"We're not a romance."

"You can say that again."

The ride home on the back of his bike is pure torture. In more than one way.

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