Page 90 of Vows in Sin
To her right, there are Dame, Blaze, and Hunter joining us and reflecting the girls’ movements.
I try to keep the pace. Is that Miss Fifi in the crowd? Smiling and gesturing to the others, clapping the beat.
“You’ve got yourself a choreographer for this?” I get off tempo, missing a step.
Seraphina calls my attention. “Look at me, baby. Look at me and have fun.”
“Fun? Dancing? In front of everyone?” This is my idea of hell. I hold her against me and dip her low. I stare down at her upside-down face. “You have a twisted sense of entertainment.”
She flashes me a wicked grin. “Says you? Have you forgotten what you get up to in that shed of ours?”
I’m two left feet surrounded by a flash mob, and all I want is her in my arms.
She’s standing there, laughing as I stop to catch my breath. Beauty and light and everything I needed but never thought I’d have.
Fuck this.I want to hold my wife.
“Come here.” I pull her close. I hold her against me. Heartbeat to heartbeat. I kiss her cheek. “Dance with me, my love.”
Laughing, she wraps those arms around me. “You did great.”
“I looked like Frankenstein doing the Monster Mash.”
“Did not!” She stares up at me with that look of admiration I’m still getting accustomed to. “You tried something new. And you looked sexy while you did it.” She reaches up, tugging the end of my tie. “Especially wearing this tie.”
“I’m sorry you married such a bad dancer,” I murmur, staring down at her. We’re nestled in a cocoon in the middle of the floor. We sway together, her in my arms, the choreography swirling around us.
“But you’re the best kisser,” she grins. “And I like kissing way more than dancing. Kiss me.”
“Yes, wife.” I obey her with the world melting away.
All that’s left is me and her.
The girl who put hope back in my heart.
THE END
BOUND by SIN. SEALED with VOWS.
In a world where sin is currency and love is a deadly vow, these men don’t ask—they take.
Come hungry. Leave complete. One vow at a time.Click Here for FORBIDDEN VOWS
Cleopatra
"No, Blaze," I gasp, making one last attempt at reason, but his name on my lips sounds more like a plea than a protest. His hands grip my waist, lifting me onto the polished wooden table behind us; the cool surface is a stark contrast to the heat of his body.
"I've wanted you for so long. That time living with you as your brother was torture.”
“Step. Brother,” I correct, gasping as he kisses my neck.
“Pure torture. I wanted you every moment of every day," he murmurs, his lips trailing kisses down my neck, his hands exploring every curve of my body. "And now, here you are. Hiding in the back of a church. And all mine."
Not fair. His words fill a void inside me. It feels so good to be wanted.
I'm shocked by how hard my heart thumps in my chest and by the excitement I feel at the thought of being desired by a man who is not only off-limits but can have any woman he wants.
And he wants me.
