Page 84 of Brutal Vows
She gazes at me for a moment, then pulls the veil back over her head, exposing her face.
And her chest. And her cleavage. And her shoulders. And her lovely long neck, on the side of which a vein erratically pulses.
Christ, she’s fucking magnificent. I almost groan out loud with desire.
Examining the expression on my face, she says, “Yes.”
Because I’m no longer in complete control of my body, I step closer until we’re only inches apart and I’m staring down into her wide, beautiful eyes, watching her fight not to give in to the urge to run.
“You told me last night not even the threat of your own death could make you walk down the aisle again.”
“It was the threat of Lili’s death that changed my mind.”
“So this is about Lili? That’s all it’s about?”
When she glances away, I take her chin in my hand and force her to look at me. “It’s truth-telling time, remember?”
She nibbles on her lower lip for a moment, hesitating. “I’m not comfortable answering that.”
“And I’m not comfortable taking a wife who thinks she’s not going to have to sleep with me.”
She closes her eyes and mutters, “Jesus Christ, Quinn, you’re killing me.”
Leaning close to her ear, my heart pounding like mad and my dick aching, I murmur, “If I marry you, Reyna, I get to fuck you as hard and as often as I want.”
“Oh my God.”
“That’s the deal, or there’s no deal.”
She says sarcastically, “Should we add it to the contract?”
I pull away and gaze down at her. “I’ve wanted you since the first second I saw you, stabbing me to death with those eyes from the bedroom window at your house. This fake marriage includes sex, or it doesn’t happen.”
She glares at me. “Your charm could sweep a girl right off her feet, you know that?”
“Wait till you see my cock. Then you’ll really be swooning.”
Her whole face turns red, from her neck to her hairline. She presses her lips together into a thin line.
I know that isn’t a rejection. She’s not saying no, which means she’s saying yes.
But she has to say it out loud.
“So? Do you agree?”
Sounding as if she’d like to shove her bouquet down my throat, she says, “Yes, Quinn. I agree.”
“Good. Then go ahead and ask me.”
“Ask you what?”
“To marry you.”
Her mouth drops open. She stares at me in shock for a moment, then says flatly, “You’re joking.”
I point at my face. “This isn’t my joking face. Ask me. And do it nicely, or I might say no, because I’ll be taking my own life into my hands.”
“How so?”
