Page 104 of Oathbreaker

When she walked in front of me to get into the car, I had to stifle a groan at how her ass jiggled when she moved.

“I’m not nervous,” she says. The tightness around her wine-colored lips tells a different story.

I raise an eyebrow at her.

“Okay, I’m nervous. It’s just...this is a lot of people with us, and it’s not every day that you walk into the house of a mafioso.” She brings her hand to her mouth to bite her nails, and I lower it, grasping it gently in mine.

“First, don’t think of him that way. Just think of it as dinner with a friend of mine and his wife.”

She bites her lip. I’m surprised when her lipstick doesn’t move at all.

“Yeah, a friend who could put a horse head in our bed if we piss him off,” she says.

More like he’d put our heads in our bed. “Baby, you watch too many movies,” I say with a small chuckle.

She shrugs. “This is just a strange world.”

A few weeks ago, I told her most of the details about Misha—who he is and why we’re hanging out with a Ukrainian mob boss.

I half expected her to run for the hills. I didn’t expect her to do what she did, which was to say, “So you’re telling me you’re a bad boy, Mr.Brigham?” before dropping to her knees and swallowing me down.

The memory causes my cock to twitch in my wool slacks. I bring her hand to my mouth, taking a moment to examine her bare ring finger.

My mother’s ring should be on her hand. The fact that both Blair and my father have virtually disappeared off the face of the Earth is more than annoying. Blair’s disappearance is enraging because a) I want to see her dead too, even though it’ll probably cause a political shitstorm if I can’t make it look like an accident. And b) she has my mother’s ring. The ring that rightfully belongs to Winter.

I know I haven’t asked her to marry me despite having everyone call her Mrs.Brigham, much to her everlasting chagrin.

I want Winter to be my wife. She will be my wife.

I just want everything to be right. I have a vision of what I want it to look like when I pop the question. I want to give her Paris again. I want to give her my mother’s ring. I want her to be carefree and safe and happy and peaceful.

I can’t guarantee any of those things for her right now. She deserves all that and more.

“Just be yourself, baby. Let me worry about the rest.” She bites her lip again, and I reach to pull the flesh from between her teeth. “Keep biting your lip like that, and I’m gonna bite it for you.”

Her cheeks turn more pink beneath her blush. I love the gentle smile she gives me.

“You promise?” she asks.

I bring her over the middle console, grabbing the back of her neck to control her movements. Our kiss is hot, energized. I feel her anxiety channel through her lips to mine. When she moans, I break our embrace.

“Be good,” I whisper to her. Our noses rub against each other, and it’s the most intimate move I’ve ever done with another woman. My heart trips over its rhythm.

“Five minutes, boss,” Rio says. I sit back on my side of the car.

She pulls out a compact to check her lipstick. “This shit is amazing,” she murmurs, snapping the mirror shut. The side of her mouth kicks up. “Do you wanna know what one of the reviews called it?”

“What,” I say, amused.

“Blow-job proof.” Her eyes twinkle, and I’m so happy to see the glimmer there. The image of Winter when I found her in the diner snaps to my consciousness, and I repress a flinch as I recall the deadness in her eyes.

My Sunbeam is coming back. Different. Strong.

“We’ll have to test that theory tonight, then,” I say.

She weaves her fingers with mine.

“What do you want to do for your birthday, H?” she says, and I can tell she’s trying to shift us to a safe conversation.

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