Page 33 of Broken

Bryce snorts, but he’s too wasted to argue. I guess the half-dozen bottles of Scotch my father laid out for today got put to good use.

“Course I will.” Mason gives me a reassuring nod.

Teddy’s waiting outside by the car, and Mel cheers when she sees him. “Tedward!”

He beams at her, and I can’t blame him. Her joy is fucking infectious. “Mrs. James,” he says with a polite nod before he opens the rear passenger-side door.

Holding a hand to her mouth, she snickers. “Mrs. James.”

“That is your name.” I lightly swat her on the ass. “Now get in the damn car.”

Mel snugglesinto me the entire ride home, her head tucked into the crook of my shoulder and her legs curled up on the seat. I try to stop peering down her dress and staring at her amazing tits, to stop fantasizing about biting into them like ripe, juicy apples, but I fail miserably. By the time we get back to thepenthouse, I’m harder than stone and so desperate to fuck her that I can barely think straight.

But one look at her face when the car rolls to a stop tells me she’s way too drunk for anything like that. Teddy opens the car door, and I climb out, beckoning her to follow. She just smiles at me.

With a grumbled curse, I scoop her into my arms and carry her bridal style to the elevator, which I suppose is only fitting.

“You’re so romantic,” she says, her voice a soft purr.

“I am not. You’re just too drunk to walk, Mrs. James.”

Sighing, she rests her head on my chest. “I like the sound of that name.”

Yeah, so do I. I rest my lips on the top of her head, inhaling the now familiar scent of her shampoo, and carry her to bed. Not to mine, as much as I’d like to, but to her own room. The one she picked out and the place she’ll sleep every night. The realization that she won’t be sleeping with me makes a lump form in my throat, but I swallow it down.

When I lay her on the bed, she flutters her dark eyelashes and wraps her arms around my neck. “It’s our wedding night, Mr. James.”

“I’m well aware of that.”

“So…” She sinks her teeth into her luscious bottom lip, and I have to close my eyes to stop myself from doing the same. “Aren’t we supposed to do something? Isn’t it true that a marriage isn’t legal until it’s consummated?”

I open my eyes and roll them at her. “Not exactly, Spitfire.”

“I think it is, Ice.”

“You’re way too drunk to consummate anything.”

“Am not!” She juts out her bottom lip, but then she scrunches her face and groans. “But your brothers and your dad and all that whisky.”

“Yeah, I know. If I’d known you couldn’t handle your liquor, I would have told them to take it easy on you.”

She snorts. “I can drink you under the table, Iceman.”

I press a kiss on her forehead and unwrap her arms from around my neck. “Yeah, sure.”

She blinks at me, her eyes brimming with sadness. “I’m really not that drunk.”

“Way too drunk for my liking, sweetheart.” I brush a lock of hair from her forehead.

“I’m not too wasted to know what I want. I can give my consent.”

I swallow hard. Holy Mother of God, give me strength. “Call me old-fashioned, but I’d prefer you remember our first time.”

She hums and bites down on that lip again. My cock twitches, trying to break through the zipper of my tuxedo pants. I need to get the fuck out of here.

“Can I at least kiss you?”

I close my eyes and stifle a groan. “Sure.”

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