Page 110 of By His Vow

“What’s going on?” I demand, racing into the room and setting my sights on the delivery man that Tatum is smiling at like he’s personally delivered her heaven.

I might not look at her, but I know she turns her eyes on me. The electricity in it zaps right down to my cock.

“Thank you so much,” Tatum gushes, turning up the charm to piss me off.

The guy is young, and I guess, pretty hot, if you’re into that kind of thing.

He has dark tattoos up both his exposed arms and gauges in his ears. Not Tatum’s type at all—not that it seems to bother her.

“Let me see you out,” she purrs before walking around in front of me to direct the guy to the front door, which I seriously hope hits him on the ass on the way out.

“Tatum,” I growl when I finally turn my eyes on her and discover what she’s wearing…or not.

Her black booty shorts barely cover her ass, and her tank is?—

She shrieks when I reach out and tug her back into my body, locking my arm around her to stop her from following him.

The guy turns, his eyes immediately snagging on Tatum’s tits.

“Leave,” I growl darkly.

The guy swallows nervously before darting out of the room. Only a second later, the sound of the front door slamming fills the apartment and Tatum begins to fight.

“Get off me, you Neanderthal,” she cries, twisting and turning to make me loosen my grip.

Never going to work, baby.

I stalk forward, giving her little choice but to move with me until I pin her hip against the counter in front of her new delivery.

“What is this?” I demand quietly, my lips brushing the shell of her ear.

She didn’t emerge from the guest room once last night. I lost count of the number of times I talked myself out of going down there.

I knew it would only end in a fight. Didn’t stop me from imagining all the ways I could fuck the anger out of her, though.

My cock swells now just thinking about it. Having her round ass pressed against it sure doesn’t help either.

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” she breathes, her voice low and raspy.

Fuck, it’s hot.

I squeeze my eyes closed, trying not to think about how it might sound while she’s on her knees staring up at me, telling me how much she wants to suck my?—

“Tatum, what is this?” I ask again, desperately trying to stay on track.

She tries to buck against me, but it’s pointless. With a granite counter in front of her and me behind, she’s stuck until she gives me what I need.

“A coffee machine,” she finally concedes.

“Why is there a coffee machine in my apartment?”

“Our apartment,” she counters, being the smartass I know her to be.

“We’re not married yet,” I warn.

“Then why am I here?”

Because it’s where you belong…

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