Page 11 of Thorns of Deceit
She turned to me and I drowned in her green eyes.
“It’s not like I was stripping.” She rolled her eyes. “So, please, tamper your macho bullshit.”
A corner of my mouth twitched. I liked that she was spitting flames at me.
“Some men like to share. I don’t. You’d do well to remember that, Raven.”
Her eyes flared.
“I’ll be sure to, almighty husband.” She snickered. “And you’d do well to remember the no-sex ruleyouimposed.”
“For now,” I stated dryly, amused by the way her cheeks stained crimson. Leaning forward, I grabbed her chin and forced her to look at me. “But eventually, wife, wewillhave sex.”
Her eyes widened. “But you… you said…”
She seemed to struggle for words. “I’ll give you time, Raven, but considering we’re shackled for life, we’ll eventually have to consummate this marriage.” I shrugged, then turned my gaze away, watching as the cityscape blurred past. “I’ll need heirs. Legitimate heirs.”
SIX
RAVEN
Inever imagined I’d be married at nineteen. I certainly never envisioned myself tied to a mobster, never mind kissed by one.
Yet here I was.
I was still reeling from his words when the car came to a stop, and by the time we made it into his building’s glass elevator, I was freaking out.
He said there’d be no sex in the immediate future, and yet, when he’d kissed me, I would have let him do whatever he wanted. Andthatterrified me more than anything else had so far. I lifted my head and found him watching me with those wide blue pools that I feared I’d lose myself in. Somehow it didn’t seem like a bad way to go.
“Breathe, Raven.”
His voice centered me, and I took a deep breath.
The elevator doors slid open to reveal a very impressive foyer, the white marble on the floor and sleek amber furniture instantly putting me at ease. Even at a glance, I could tell a singlepiece was worth more than what I’d make in a year at Velvet Desire, but it had a cozy quality to it.
“Welcome home.” His hand came around to the small of my back and he nudged me forward. “I’ll give you a tour tomorrow, but for now, straight to bed.”
He led me down the corridor, passing a magnificent kitchen and a living room with floor-to-ceiling windows, behind which the city lights flickered under the full moon. If I squinted, I was sure I could make out the Empire State Building in the distance.
He opened the door at the far end of the hallway. “This will be your bedroom.”
I walked inside, stopping just shy of the plush Persian rug. I glanced around at the paintings and expensive tapestry and suddenly felt out of place. A California king bed was centered in the room with a crisp comforter, plump pillows, and soft sheets that called to me.
“I’ll mess up your place,” I murmured, gazing down at the state of me. My bare feet were filthy and my dress was scrunched and tattered beyond any hope of salvation.
He approached me slowly. An intoxicating heat rolled off of him in waves, sinking into me.
“Don’t worry about it. The cleaning lady, Aela, comes three times a week,” he said.
Then he raised his hand, letting it hover an inch from my cheek. I watched him hesitate before he closed the distance and let his fingers trace the line of my jaw.
“I’m sorry,” he rumbled.
I cocked my head and my cheek molded into his warm palm. “For what?”
“For forcing you into these shackles.” His lip quirked as if amused. “I’m sure the last thing you ever wanted was to marry an old man like me.”
I arched my brow, surprised by his apology and even more that he seemed to mean it. “So you admit you’re old?”
