Page 105 of Ruthless Salvation

“Hey,” he urged in a gentle demand for my attention. “I’m only playing. You want dance lessons, you got it. I’m happy to give my baby anything she wants.”

“Really? You’d do that for me?”

“Anything, Storm. All you ever have to do is ask.” He said it with such ardent conviction that my heart did a little backflip in my chest.

“Love you, Torin Byrne.”

“Love you more, Stormy Byrne.”

I felt utterly euphoric after the most perfect wedding day a girl could ask for. It also had to have set some sort of record for the largest wedding thrown together in the shortest amount of time. Torin would have been good with eloping, but every time I thought of who I wanted with me on our big day, the list just kept growing. The last time I got married, I’d been alone, and the entire marriage ended up being the biggest mistake of my life. This time, I wanted to be surrounded by the people I loved.

We never could have made it happen if it wasn’t for the amazing ladies who volunteered to help. Noemi and Pippa handled flowers and the overall aesthetic elements. Micky was responsible for my hair and makeup, while Rowan handled invitations. Tor secured the hotel ballroom venue—I didn’t want to know how. And over adozenof us stormed the bridal salon to pick out my dress. I thought the poor attendant would have a heart attack, but I was delighted to have every one of them with me. Even Torin’s mother and grandmother were present. They adored Honey. I felt like we were on a Brady Bunch reality TV show, except it was unscripted and genuine and totally perfect.

The ceremony was short but elegant, transitioning seamlessly into the reception on the other side of the divided room. I wanted the celebration to be fun rather than formal, so we had finger foods instead of a sit-down dinner. That made room for a dance floor, and thus, the opportunity to have a first official dance as husband and wife.

“You sure you don’t want to do a mother and son dance?” I asked as we swayed to the music. “It won’t bother me, I promise.”

“I can dance with her later. We don’t need a special audience.” He’d refused to have a mother-son dance if I couldn’t do a father-daughter dance. I hated to deny his mother the memory, but Torin was adamant. “But since you bring up the topic of parents,” he continued, “I’ve been wondering something.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you still think about finding your birth mother?”

We’d spent hours talking over the past week about everything under the sun, including my year in Russia. He’d been more reluctant to discuss his ordeal in the detention facility, but I couldn’t blame him. I wasn’t crazy about reliving some of my memories either. One of the things I had passed on, however, was the excitement I’d felt when Damyon would come to me with progress on the search for my mother. Finding my roots had seemed almost essential during that time, but as I danced in my husband’s arms, surrounded by a world of people who supported us, I didn’t feel the same urgency.

“No, actually. I have all the family I need right here.” My voice grew thin with the strain of emotion—joyful, gratitude-filled emotion—as I met Torin’s penetrating stare.

“That’s it. I need to fuck my wife.” He pulled away, sweeping one arm out to encourage others onto the dance floor.

“Tor,” I whisper-yelled. “It’s the middle of the wedding!”

He smiled at some guests. “Don’t care, beautiful,” he said out of the corner of his mouth. “I’ve waited long enough already.” He led me off the dance floor as though we were merely headed for refreshments rather than our much more salacious intent. My poker face was atrocious. Anyone paying attention would have seen my giddy grin and known exactly what we were up to.

Not that it mattered. This was our day, and we’d spend it how we wanted.

That ended up being in a room used for storing folding tables and chairs. Torin propped a chair under the door handle, then grabbed a table, extended the legs, and had it set up all in a matter of seconds.

The stare he pierced me with stirred up a cataclysmic landslide of desire throughout my body. Even my fingertips tingled with the need to touch him. The corner of his mouth quirked upward as he summoned me with a hooked finger. He leaned in and teased me with the warmth of his lips ghosting across my own.

“Hike up your gown.”

I did as he instructed. I was so drunk on his spell, I would have done just about anything to see his eyes light with approval.

Torin tucked his hands under my armpits and lifted me onto the table like I’d been no more than a child. He pressed his body between my legs. Anticipation bubbled like champagne in my veins as he placed a serenade of kisses along my neck and shoulder, lowering himself to his knees.

“Sweet Jesus, tell me you weren’t bare this entire time.” His guttural words had me grinning with delight.

“I couldn’t have panty lines showing through my gown, could I?”

His strong hands spread my thighs wide before he devoured me with ravenous energy. Minute after minute, he had my body building to a dizzying crescendo.

“I can’t tell if not wearing panties is the best or worst idea ever. I have a hard enough time keeping my hands off you as it is.” He licked and sucked and nipped at my flesh with such a voracious appetite that my body responded in equal measure. In hardly any time at all, the consuming bliss of a full-body release lit a fire deep in my belly, branching out into every molecule of my being.

“Mmm, I like to hear my wife when she comes.” He trailed one more long lick up my slit. “I’d dance to that music any day.”

Without allowing me time to recover, he lifted me in his arms and braced my back against the wall.

“What’s my name?” he asked, eyes growing sharp as a knife’s edge.

---