Page 37 of Claimed By Desire

Natalya’s face snaps up, her eyes going wide like this wasn’t what she expected?—

I step forward, and fuck it, even though I try like hell to be as perfect as I can be, I’m a flawed man. I have my demons and my needs.

And right now, there’s only one thing I want.

I claim her mouth with mine.

I pull Natalya against me and I bury her lips and invade her tongue with my own. I kiss her deep and her taste floods my mouth as she releases the most erotic little whimper I’ve ever heard in my fucking life, and I don’t care if there’s a priest standing a few feet away or if Dasha’s watching from the couch.

This woman is mine. She’s fuckingminenow, my wife, all mine, and she’s carrying my god damn child.

I won’t let anyone get near her ever again.

I kiss her until it feels like my lips might fall to dust before finally pulling away.

Natalya’s looking at me now. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are bright.

“Hell yeah,” Dasha says with a cheer.

“I should get going,” the priest murmurs, already gathering his things, as Natalya seems to melt away from me, face turning even pinker with embarrassment.

But I only have eyes for my wife right now.

A strange, bestial hunger rolls through me, and if there weren’t two other people only a few feet away I’d grab Natalya by the hair and kiss claiming her, and I wouldn’t stop until she was moaning my name.

But fuck, that isn’t why I married her.

That’s the selfish, broken part of me again, and Iwillkeep it under control.

Only right now it’s hard with my wife looking so fucking beautiful and her lips hanging open and her taste still lingering on my tongue.

The rest of the wedding is paperwork. We fill out the documents and everyone signs, including Dasha. Father Gorbachev gets the hell out of my apartment as soon as humanly possible.

“Here’s to the happy couple,” Dasha says, proposing a toast. She hands out glasses of wine, but I take away Natalya’s and pour it into my glass.

“A little won’t hurt,” she protests, but I give her a stony look.

“Not even a drop.”

Dasha stares between us as Natalya glares at me and I don’t back down an inch.

“Okay, well, here’s to the happy couple,” she says and downs her drink.

“Here’s to me and my wife,” I say, and toast the air.

“I already regret this.” Natalya turns and walks off, and I watch her go. The heat of that kiss is beginning to cool as reality sets in.

“You should go,” I tell Dasha. “Thanks for playing witness.”

“Anytime. You know, about the other night?—“

I shake my head. “Don’t worry about it.”

She turns to the door, but hesitates. “She’s the reason you didn’t come out with me, right?

“Something like that.”

“I thought so. Good luck, Alex. I think you’re going to need it.”

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