When She Loves (The Fallen, #4)(19)

A sense of triumph sweeps through me.

She’s finally mine.





We spend an excruciating hour taking pictures, but at least I have Cleo in my arms for most of it.

The photographer instructs us to kiss, but she won’t give me what I want. Her lips remain tightly sealed.

That moment at the altar proved to me what I’ve suspected all along. There’s chemistry between us, and it’s the kind I’ve never experienced before. I’m going to clear my entire fucking calendar this week, because I plan on exploring it in full.

I’ll get her out of my system, and then this madness will end.

After all, I’ve never allowed myself to get distracted by a woman for more than a brief spell.

I rush the photographer along the same way I did with the priest. My right hand is glued to Cleo’s hip. She shoots me looks filled with a simmering, defiant heat, and she doesn’t smile at the camera even when the photographer pleads with her.

“I’m self-conscious about my teeth,” she barks at him.

Little liar. She has perfect teeth. She has perfect everything.

When we’re finally inside the limo, I pull her toward me, intent on getting my fill of that mouth, but she hisses at my touch and jerks away. “My God, can you stop pawing at me?”

“Why would I? You’re my wife.” I reach for her.

“Don’t remind me,” she snaps, slapping my hand away. “Do you think just because we’re married you can manhandle me whenever you want?”

“Yes.”

She glares at me. “You’re horrible.”

She’s in denial. She enjoyed that kiss as much as I did.

“You didn’t seem to think so when I kissed you at the altar.”

Her cheeks turn bright red. “I was pretending.”

“You’re not that good an actress. Few people can make their pupils dilate on command.”

She scoffs. “You’re delusional if you think I enjoyed even a second of that kiss.”

What happened at the altar wasn’t an act. She’s lying.

“Why don’t we try it again and see?” I challenge.

She purses her lips. “I don’t think so.”

“Is that why you refused to give me a real kiss in front of the photographer? Because you were worried he’d capture how much you enjoyed it?”

“I don’t enjoy anything about you.”

I reach out and grab her chin, forcing her to look at me. “Prove it then.”

She wrenches her face away from my grip and glares.

I arch a brow. “Or are you scared?”

She scoffs. “Of you? Hardly.”

“Then what’s stopping you?” I challenge her. If she wants to play games with me, we can play, but I’ll win.

Her eyes flicker with a mix of defiance and something else. Something I can’t quite place. “Fine,” she says. “I’ll prove it.”

Before I can even register what’s happening, she crashes her lips against mine in a bruising kiss. My hands instinctively grip her waist, pulling her closer to me, deepening it.

She doesn’t wait a second before she slides her tongue into my mouth. Fuck, she tastes incredible. My hand moves lower, cupping her ass through the layers of her wedding dress. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been this eager to cop a feel. When she tugs on my bottom lip with her teeth, I groan into her mouth. I’m on fire. I need to be inside of her.

The limo swerves, and we break apart, gasping for air. She rips her body away from me, slides to the other end of the seat, and faces the window.

“Let me see your eyes,” I demand, my voice breathless.

She can’t deny it now. Her jaw clenches. When she doesn’t turn, I slide over to her and wrap my palm around her neck. Her pulse flutters beneath my touch.

“Will you admit you lied?”

She swallows, her elegant throat bobbing against my hand.

I stroke it with my thumb. “We shouldn’t start our marriage with a lie.”

Finally, she turns to me, her lips inches away from mine.

Her pupils are blown wide, but it’s not just arousal swimming inside of them. She’s furious. I frown.

“I will never like your kisses or your touch,” she whispers harshly. “You’re my jailer. Do you think I’ll ever forget that?”

The car pulls to a stop, and she’s out of it before I can tell her to wait.

I rake my fingers through my hair and watch her hurry toward the hotel, the sunlight winking against the butterfly brooch pinning her braids.

Stubborn girl. She’s too proud to admit the truth out loud, but it doesn’t matter.

She’s mine.

And she’ll surrender to me tonight.











CHAPTER 10











CLEO


The reception takes place in a mansion on the Hudson River that was converted into a luxury hotel.

From the moment Rafaele and I sat down at the sweetheart table, the walls of the lavish ballroom have been pressing down on me.

I’m itching to sneak out and talk to Vale, but all these people I don’t know won’t stop giving toasts to Rafaele. My name is mentioned a few times too, but I don’t pay attention to their fake flattery.