Page 23 of Mistletoe Missus
My husband’s eyes sizzled with a fierce need, reminding me of all the times we had kissed underneath the mistletoe. All the practice we had led us up to this moment, where we made our grand introduction together as one. In complete unison, all New Yorkers saw that Mitt Morgan was off the market, and I was his wife.
Another person yelled, “Mr. Morgan! Kiss her!”
And my husband did.
A soft kiss without a rushed tongue as it danced inside my mouth and made me raise my leg. The tip of my heel pointed straight up to the sky as desire soared through me, and Iexperienced everything I had ever wanted to feel in a husband. Wanted and respected. All the ingredients to a happy, blissful marriage with a love I knew would come. His devotion to me was undeniable, and I saw it in his eyes when he pulled away with twinkling flashes of camera lights.
I smiled up at Mitt, and he grinned down at me, full of promises he’d keep for a lifetime. The crowd grew meaningless to me as we passed on by with waves and smiles of joy. The paparazzi were in a frenzy and thirsty for more.
We made it safely to the front door, where Mitt guided me inside and shut the outside world out. The slam of the wooden door was loud against my ears with how silent it was inside of Mitt’s home. He walked up some stairs, taking the steps two at a time, and I followed up behind him. Only to see a large window facing the crowd as we overlooked them. But their muffled voices from outside still came through and made me unable to forget them.
“This is insanity,” I whispered in disbelief at his side.
Mitt glared straight ahead. “Welcome to my world, angel.”
I had a lot to get used to within his universe.
“Maybe we should go out for dinner? Make another appearance?” I asked with my eyes searching through the crowd for a friendly face, but none appeared.
Suddenly, Mitt grabbed my shoulders, turning me to face him. I expected another toe-curling kiss and gasped at his unforeseen movement, feeling an adrenaline rush mixed with happiness. But the joy quickly faded when I saw his eyes.
Those deep hazel hues, which once shone at me brightly, full of mystery I had desperately wanted to unfold, now frightened me deep down into my core. They were distant, cold, and left a shiver running down my spine.
“Why? So we can smile for the cameras some more? Kiss as if we fucking can’t get enough of each other?” Mitt questioned me in an edgy, unfamiliar tone.
“Yes. Isn’t that what married couples do?” I asked with narrowed eyes.
“Yes. It is,” Mitt replied as he leaned in close, and his mouth was only heartbeats away from another stroke of bliss. “But I want to make one thing clear.”
His lips touched mine. Our breaths mingled and attraction sizzled in the air. An electric current ran rampant before a lightning strike broke the live wire in two. He left me hanging on for my life, clinging to him and ready to fall with sparks flying around us.
“What is it?” I asked, my lips brushed against his.
“I’ll never love you,” Mitt admitted as he tore his mouth away from mine, and I fell to my untimely demise.
No sparks and my brain splattered. Guts everywhere. My heart was no longer beating as I lay dead and cold on the ground.
TWELVE
Bitter Truth
Tinsley
“What? Where is this coming from?” I questioned, with confusion.
Desperation kicked in, and I reached out for Mitt. Only to grasp thin air as he moved out of range. His shoes tapped on the tile as he walked away from me and didn’t turn back. He didn’t utter a word, and he gave me no choice but to follow behind him. I couldn’t go back outside with the paparazzi everywhere. I had no choice but to face my new husband with his abrupt change of attitude.
“What do you mean, you can never love me?” I asked as he rounded a corner, and I had to speed up.
Nothing.
Not a single peep.
“Mitt? Mitt!” I yelled out and grabbed for his jacket sleeve but missed. “Goddamn it, talk to me!”
Torment turned into a temper with me hot on his heels. I was an angel with my wings ablaze and my round hollow ring of fire. Divine messenger, my ass. I was ready for war in the depths of hell.
I heard him grumble as he stormed down the hallway, and I scurried close behind in a rage. Our frustrated emotionscollided, mixed into a storm cloud about to produce a destructive snow tornado. I wanted Mitt’s warmth back and mixing with my sunlight. Not this cold, harsh, and grumpy billionaire. Despite feeling fired up and confused, I was attempting to bring the sunshine back. A grump and his sunshine weren’t a marriage I signed up for.
