Page 81 of Sunshine & Sinful

“I didn’t know how you’d feel,” he replies. “I didn’t want to ruin a chance at this. At marrying you.”

“Colton.”

“I love you. I would do anything for you.”

“This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me,” I sob.

“Shhh.” Sunshine crushes me to his chest, and I stuff my nose between his glorious pecs to breathe him in. My tears stain his red shirt as I try to stop being a big baby with even bigger emotions. But this is… too much.

Sweeping me into his arms, my husband carries me in my black leggings and black t-shirt over to his Harley, sets me on the ground, and pulls my pants down to my ankles, where they wrap like cuffs. I grip his shoulder to keep from falling over. “What are you doing?” I blubber like an idiot, swiping my tears from my face as he kneels at my feet and stuffs his face against my pussy, where he audibly breathes me in and slips his tongue just inside the fold, where he groans as if he loves the taste.

I grip a fistful of his hair, and in return, he grips my ass cheeks, holding me against his face. “I will eat your pussy here. To make this place even more special for us. Then I’m gettin’ that brand. Next week, we leave for our real honeymoon. Now spread your legs and let me taste my old lady.”

Not needing to be told twice, I stare in awe as the big, sexy biker with broad shoulders feasts upon me, and I fall even deeper in love with the man who’s given me everything and more.

Here’s to our forever.

EPILOGUE 2

Blood sticks to the soles of my boots as I step over yet another dead body, only to land in more crimson soup.

Sunshine’s gonna be mad.

So very mad.

Okay. Maybe not mad. It’s Sunshine. But… he’ll be something.

I made a mess.

A big, big, big mess.

In the far corner of the nightclub, a group of women and two men cower in terror as strobe lights dance across the mood-lit room and techno music pumps through speakers.

This was a private pre-auction party that I was supposed to infiltrate. Well, I infiltrated it alright and served poisoned wine. I’ve been working on a new concoction and haven’t gotten a chance to try it out until today.

Dragging a hand down my face, I groan at the sea of bodies sprawled across the dance floor and the few still seated on chairs, face down on tables. Most of them aremen. A few of them are women. All of them are dead as a doornail and leaking the contents of their bodies all over the ground. I don’t know what my wine did, but it broke something inside them, and now I’ve made a gory mess that resembles a water leak, if water was red, tacky, and smelled like pennies.

Fuck.

Reaching into my shirt, I withdraw a boob rock—red jasper—from my bra and crush it in my fist until it hurts. Expelling a rush of air between my lips, I close my eyes and center myself.

Everything is going to be okay.

It’s just a little blood.

The phone in my back pocket vibrates. Chewing my inner cheek, I pull it free and don’t have to look to know who’s calling.

It’s him—my husband.

I may have been too busy losing my shit for the past hour that I forgot to call him and check in. Or… I may have been avoiding it because of this epic whoopsie.

Seeing his picture on the screen, a brief smile lights my face, but it’s gone a moment later when the dread of coming clean settles in my gut.

Happy six-month wedding anniversary to us.

Shaking my head, I connect the call as I stare at the mess of bodies, hoping one of them, just one, didn’t puke up blood, for Sunshine’s sake. This is going to take hours.

“Sweets,” my husband’s deep, sexy voice greets me, but I can barely hear him over the music.

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