Page 10 of Iron Bride

His finger continued down, until his touch landed on the pulse of my neck. I could do nothing but sit completely still under his intensity.

“Most girls are made of sugar and spice. But not you. You’re made of ice.”

“I wish that were true,” I whispered to myself, more than him. “Ice doesn’t bleed.”

Chapter three

You Can't Comfort Ice

Cillian

She was right. I had never seen the ice queen bleed. Nor did she cry, sweat, or flinch. As cold as a New York winter.

So, who was this vulnerable little princess in my bed?

“Last chance, love,” I whispered. “Tell me who did it.”

Her jaw twitched as she bit down on her molars, her glassy eyes uncertain as she searched my face, probably trying to read my intent.

I prayed and hoped she’d get the message, but when she opened her mouth, I was disappointed.

“It was a mugging. I don’t know who it was.”

A fucking lie.

There was nothing more insulting than a fucking lie.

My finger and thumb moved to her chin when she tried to look away. I restrained the incredible need to punch a wall as I stared at my deceptive bride.

I leaned down, placing my nose near hers. She smelled like sweet berries. Like a kiss beneath a mistletoe. She felt like temptation, carnal and crude. The forbidden fruit.

“You might not know me well, Wife, but for the sake of our marriage, I suggest this be the last time you lie to me.”

I pinched her chin until she winced.

I let her go, and she cast her eyes down, looking at something on the white duvet. She took a deep breath, her posture straightened. Iknewthat she was building her defenses up again. Her lips parted to tell me more untruths, and I couldn’t stand it.

I am not an impulsive man. But this one time…

I plunged my tongue into her mouth to stop her transgression.

I cupped her cheeks in my hands, clamping her face to mine, as I devoured her whole. The sweetness of her lips made me want to suck the breath right out of her lungs. To steal her air, her soul, and everything that she was.

It was several long minutes before I realized that she wasn’t reacting as planned. I expected her to slap me. To push me away. To protest. Then I would assert my dominance as her husband, and she’d acclimate to her new life.

But instead, she returned my passion threefold. I savored it. I moaned into her lips, as she whimpered into mine.

There was nothing but the softness of her tongue, the roughness of her teeth, and the deep, sensual groan of her acceptance. There was nothing but the haze of bliss as white as a snowstorm, and as warm as a crackling Yule log.

Was the treacherous witch fucking with me?

I flinched away, catching my breath to fight the haze of desire.

Her eyes were closed, lips parted, and cheeks a sweet, warm pink. No, she wasn’t playing a game. This was honest, true, mutual attraction.

I grabbed her thigh, digging my nails into her flesh and parting her legs. I had daintily covered her in my own college shirt, and placed the blankets at her hips, so that she was modestly protected apart from the wound I found on her rib.

I didn’t want the doctor to get any wild ideas.

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