Page 15 of The Forbidden Husband

I slid Aria’s chosen ring onto her finger, and she slid the thicker band on mine.

“You may kiss the bride,” he finally said.

I reached forward and wrapped a hand around the nape of her neck and another around her waist. I pulled her against my body, and when she gasped, I devoured her mouth.

The electricity flowing between us was immediate. Her lips hesitated momentarily, but they softened and parted beneath mine. One of her hands gripped my hip, and the other bunched in the fabric of my shirt, and everything around us fell away—the crowd, the flashing of cameras, the priest who took a few inconspicuous steps away. All of it.

I could only focus on Aria’s sweet scent and soft lips, and as she went to pull back, I tugged her closer, dipping her backward.

She wrapped an arm around the back of my neck to hold herself upright, and I gave myself a few more seconds.

And then I mustered up more strength than I ever would have thought necessary to pull away from Aria Bianchi-Rissi’s lips.

My wife’s delicious mouth.

I was screwed.

* * * *

My first cocktail was stiff enough that I felt it burning through my blood after only a few minutes, and I instinctively pulled Aria’s chair closer to mine as she sipped on her lighter cocktail. She didn’t say much all night, and she continued the trend as she sat at our main table and greeted each guest with a forced smile.

Nobody else seemed to notice, but I did.

I couldn’t figure her out. Not entirely. I couldn’t peel apart the complexities that made up her every expression and mood change.

“I’m telling you, man,” one of my cousins said, slamming a whole bottle of Brandy on the table between us. “Taking a swig of this is good luck for any wedding night. You don’t want to struggle in the performance department, do you?”

“I don’t think I’ll have a problem with that.” I grinned as I glanced down at Aria.

Her expression appeared passive, if not a bit tense. She said nothing as she grabbed the five-hundred-dollar bottle of liquor and took two large gulps. Three. Four.

She grimaced and placed it back on the table before picking up her half-finished cocktail and taking another small sip.

“Dude,” my cousin drawled. “That was awesome.”

Aria didn’t show any reaction. “Liquid courage.”

He looked between us and laughed belligerently before walking away.

For the first time in the last hour, nobody waited in line behind him to wish us well or offer their congratulations, and I exhaled a long breath. “Finally.”

Aria made a sound of acknowledgment. “Does everyone know the reason we’re marrying?”

“Most of the family does. If not outright, everyone suspects. It doesn’t matter. They all knew I wasn’t planning to marry for love anyway.”

That seemed to catch her attention. “What do you mean?”

“What I said. I don’t do relationships.”

She looked me over with an assessing expression. “Why?”

I didn’t plan for her to push this topic. “I’m not interested in mindlessly loving someone who could turn around and betray me.”

“You don’t come across as uninterested. You come across as adamant. If you weren’t planning on marrying for love, did you always plan to be in an arranged marriage?”

I leaned back in my seat, faking indifference. “You’re reading into shit that doesn’t matter. Sit back and enjoy your drink.”

I didn’t mean for my voice to come across as hard and distant. Maybe even a little commanding. She flinched and narrowed her eyes as she stared at me. She opened her mouth, but she seemed to think better of it before she shook her head and did as I ordered.

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