Page 47 of The One Night Match
She shakes her head.
“Four so far this year. And do you know why I always say no?”
Another shake.
“Because I don’t believe in trading people’s hands in marriage like a business deal. Lexi’s happiness is not a way for me to make more money. Her life is worth more than some alliance.”
“Our marriage is arranged.”
“Our marriage was arranged by an algorithm. We are compatible. If Lexi decides she wants to register for the matchmaker, I’ll help her every step of the way. But equally, if she decides to be a spinster with forty-seven cats, I’ll still love and support her.” I dip my head and press a kiss to her damp cheek.
“If we are lucky enough to have a daughter, I will not trade her as part of some business deal. And if any of my men ever touch you, they won’t live to tell the tale.”
It takes every ounce of strength in my body to roll over, pushing myself to my feet at the edge of the bed. “I’m goingto feed Mr. Whiskers, and then I’ll feed us. Come down when you’re ready.”
I drop a kiss to her forehead before making myself put distance between us, even as every muscle in my body screams at me to pull her back into my arms and promise her the world.
Winning Riley over isn’t a race. It’s a marathon, and I need to make sure I don’t push her before she’s ready to be pushed, even if every instinct tells me that’s exactly what I should do.
“Where the fuck is my bed?” Riley growls from the bottom of the stairs. Her hair is pulled into a messy knot on the top of her head, and her hands are planted on her hips, only covered by the shirt I changed her into last night. The black fabric hits halfway down her thighs, and my cock stands to attention immediately.
Goddamn it, just when I finally talked him down.
“Gone.” I shrug, flipping a pancake as I take a sip of my coffee.
“What do you mean, gone?” She squints. “It was there last night when we left for the dinner party. Where did it go?”
“I had it removed this morning. As well as all the other beds in the house.”
She blinks at me, her mind trying to make sense of the words coming out of my mouth, but I can’t see it making a difference. Not even I’ve made sense of this particular action.
It turns out I liked having Riley in my bed a little too much last night, and when I woke up to her soft breath whispering across my chest and the little orange demon curled between us, I decided that’s how I wanted to wake up every morning.
“You had the beds removed this morning,” she repeats slowly, as if she thinks hearing it come out of her own mouth will make it any less unhinged. I can confirm it does not.
I nod, piling a pancake on top of the ones that are already finished, and slide them across the bench to the stool she usually drinks her coffee at.
“Why?”
“I want you in our bed. I figured the only way to make that happen without a fight or moving you every night after you fall asleep was to remove all other options. Simple.”
“Simple,” she mutters under her breath.
“Have some breakfast. You barely touched your dinner last night.” I meant to get her food on our way home, but then she fell asleep in my arms, and all my plans went out the window—something that seems to happen too often where she’s concerned.
She doesn’t move from where she’s standing as I pour the batter into the pan. I’ve never eaten breakfast as much as I have since she’s been here, but it does shit to me seeing her eat food I made for her, and if there’s anything I’ve learned about my girl, it’s that she won’t eat unless I do too. I think it’s a byproduct of how she was raised, and after hearing how her parents reacted to her past fiancé beating the shit out of her, they have a lot to answer for.
“Kitten, you can either walk your fine ass over here and eat your breakfast, or I’ll sit you in my lap and edge you until you’ve eaten every bite.”
Her eyes widen, and her thighs press together, telling me she very much likes that idea, not that she’d ever admit it.
Riley thinks the only way for her to be happy is to get away from the Mafia altogether, but she seems to forget that’s not an option. No matter how much we may wish it were, it’s not, and there’s nowhere on this earth that she’s safer than right here with me.
“Riley,” I warn.
She takes a hesitant step forward, crossing the dining room before climbing onto the stool. She reaches for her coffee first, taking a long drink with her eyes pressed closed.
A soft moan escapes her throat, once again making my cock jump, and I give it a quick squeeze of reassurance that one day soon, she’ll be making that noise with him buried in her perfect pussy.
