Page 12 of Immoral

He ravishes my mouth, just like every time he's kissed me. It doesn't matter if I was a teenage girl, in my twenties, thirties, or now. Something about Gianni Marino's mouth and tongue on mine is a one-way ticket to quivering insides and wet panties. It's impossible not to react. My butterflies go crazy, and I curse myself for the inability to show him he doesn't affect me.

When he pulls back, I'm breathless, weak-kneed, and unable to stand without the help of his arm around me. He turns to the officiant. "Thanks. Now get off my plane. We need to go."

I stare at Gianni's chest, trying to catch my breath, loathing myself for kissing him back.

"Umm. Yes, sir," the officiant replies, and I see him step away out of the corner of my eye.

I'm still clenching Gianni's shirt. He wraps his hand around the leash until he gets to the collar.

My face turns red. In my haste, I forgot to take it off.

Gianni's cocky expression lands on me. He fists my hair and tugs until my face is directly under his. "You're mine now, tesoro. You need to let the past go. Let's focus on our future."

I scoff. "Do you think marrying me erases your sins?"

He sniffs hard. "No. I think it shows you how committed to you I am."

"Committed? You don't know how to be committed. But let me tell you something. When you get bored with this scenario, don't run to another woman. I'll slice you in your sleep," I threaten.

Amusement flickers on his expression. "Good to know. But since I won't be breaking our vows, I guess I'll stay in one piece."

"Yeah, right. I'm sure it'll happen in under a month."

He tightens his grip on my hair. In a firm voice, he states, "I'm not running from you this time, Cara. I meant what I said in my vows."

Of all the things I wish, it's that I could believe him.

But I can't.

He's Gianni Marino. The man who broke my heart too many times to count. And I'll be damned before I let being Mrs. Gianni Marino ever erase our past.

Not flinching or avoiding his dark, cold eyes, I infuse strength into my voice and declare, "Nothing has changed between us. Now, let me go."

He stays frozen, and time seems to stand still.

"Now," I order.

He finally releases me and steps back.

"Where are we going?" I question.

"Kelowna."

"Kelowna?" I ask in confusion. I've never even heard of the town.

His lips twitch. "It's in Canada, northeast of Vancouver."

"Why are we going there?"

"It's in the middle of nowhere. No one will find us, and they have a proper spa. You love spas," he responds, as if it's perfectly normal for us to be heading to the spa.

"Are we going to be on the run?" I ask.

He grunts. "No. I'll kill anyone who comes near you."

"You said no one will find us," I point out.

His grin widens, and I want to smack him before he says, "I meant no one will disturb us on our honeymoon."

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