Page 81 of Vengeful Vows

A chill runs down my spine when I sense I am being watched two seconds before Mara’s shampoo fills the air. There isn’t enough heat in the water to produce steam, but the tension that forever fires between Mara and me could cause an inferno. I heat up in an instant, and the incineration is quick since Mara refuses to enter the bathroom without an invitation.

After drenching my hair, making it sit flat enough to curl around my ears, I peer at her from beneath a curtain of water.

Fuck, she is beautiful. Her shoulder is propped against the doorjamb, and her arms are hanging loosely down her svelte frame. With our antics running late into the morning, dark circles are ringing her eyes, and her lips are chapped from how many times we’ve kissed, but she is still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. The silky gown she placed on when we stumbled to bed in the wee hours of this morning hugs her curves, and her hair is down and curtaining her gorgeous face.

She is a sight for sore eyes, and she makes my dick ache.

If I were a good man, a decent man, I’d tell her I would meet her in the kitchen once I’d finished my shower and then sneak out the fire exit.

Since I’m not, I hold out my hand, inviting her to join me.

She doesn’t hesitate for even a second.

Her trust loosens the noose clutching my neck while desire takes care of the unease slicking my skin with sweat.

It completely clears away when I twist in enough time to watch her remove her silky sleeping gown. It falls off her shoulders with a soundless whoosh, exposing her lush tits, smooth stomach, and lean body.

She was built to be fucked, but fierce enough to bring the strongest man to his knees.

I don’t see vulnerability when I look at her.

I see strength.

Admiration.

I see the woman I want to make my wife.

“We should get married.”

Mara balks before her throat works hard to swallow. “Sorry… what did you say?”

She heard me. The thudding of her pulse in her neck is a surefire indicator. She just wants to give me a chance to back out of my suggestion.

I refuse.

“Married. We should get married.”

When her face pales, I catch her by the wrist and pull her under the spray. She yelps when the freezing temperature takes care of the wildfire raging through her stomach from my suggestion, but she doesn’t attempt to adjust the faucet.

Between brief touches, kisses, and mind-blowing sex, we spoke so much last night, even if she hadn’t seen my back when I’d yanked Paarth away from her, she’d know the scars are from burns.

The watershebathed me in was hotter than hell, and I’ve been submersed in its fiery depths for over thirty years.

That’s all done with now. Mara flipped my universe on its head in less than twenty-four hours, and I couldn’t be happier.

Or scared.

I’m so fucking scared.

And Mara knows that. “NDAs are cheaper and a whole heap less complicated than marriage.”

She slaps away my hand when I veer it toward her nipple, already versed that I’ll use sex as a tactic to get my way. Our relationship is moving at a breakneck speed, but aren’t all the best ones? We stripped our cloaks before uniting in a way only couples do. We scaled the hurdles, so it is only up from here.

A legally binding commitment seems like the next logical step.

Once her nipples are safe, Mara lifts her eyes to my face. “That is what this is about, isn’t it? You’re worried you’ve shared too much so you want to protect your privacy.”

“No,” I lie, equally peeved she’s denying me the drug I plan to use to get over my neurosis until I take my last breath, while also in awe about her hitting the nail on the fucking head. “It isn’t just my privacy I want to protect. It is yours as well… and Tillie’s.” My voice is barely a whisper when I add another name to the short list of people I am desperate to protect. “And Riley’s.”

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