Page 69 of Vengeful Union

I’m cold in the air conditioning now that I’m not delirious with pleasure, and he tsks.

He pulls the comforter up over me, kissing my temple.

“Guess you were wrong.”

“Clearly.”

Rory goes quiet, his slow breaths and the whirr of the air conditioning the only sounds in the room.

I wiggle back against him, turning my head slightly, and he kisses me for the first time since coming back home. It’s not rough and dirty, not too much tongue, just a sweet little kiss.

I sigh in contentment against his mouth, and he throws his arm across my waist, nuzzling into my neck.

My eyes are already drifting closed when he speaks.

“You’re not what I thought, Lara Burke.”

“Murphy,” I mumble, half-asleep. “It’s Lara Murphy, now.”

Rory draws in a sharp breath and tightens his arm around me.

I fall asleep without a worry in the world with my arranged husband, too blissed out to worry about the fact that I’m falling in love with him.

Chapter Twenty

20

RORY

I wakeup the next morning with a silent scream in my throat, waking from a nightmare that I can’t quite remember.

Everything’s hazy, but Lara’s warm body is pressed against mine, her soft snoring somehow calming my racing heart.

I should get up. I should move away, shouldn’t tighten my arms around her the way I want to. But I nuzzle into her neck, planting soft kisses on her shoulder.

She makes a grunting sound in her sleep, rather unladylike, and I chuckle.

Moonlight is still streaming through the windows, so I shouldn’t wake her.

I’m tired and sore in the best way from all the sex, my muscles aching like after a workout. It’s been so long since I’ve had a warm body in my bed, and I have to admit that it’s nice to wake up to.

I close my eyes but when I do, all I see behind my eyelids is blood. They pop back open, and I slowly move away from Lara.

She whines in her sleep but then hugs the pillow, going back to sleep.

I let out a sigh of relief. I don’t know how to explain to her that I had a nightmare, that I’m struggling since I committed cold-blooded murder.

I’ve always told myself that I was nothing like my father. I’ve always told myself there’d never be blood on my hands, but now they’re stained forever.

I expect to see red as I look down at them, but of course, there’s nothing.

I head to the bathroom before dressing as quietly as I can.

Lara sleeps like a rock, though, so I don’t have to worry.

I try not to look at her, not wanting to feel my heart skip a beat at her beauty or the way she’s cuddling with the pillow. I can’t think about my growing feelings for the woman I married.

Because it’s not real. None of this is real, and she’s going to disappear as soon as my father is behind bars.

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