Page 88 of Virtuous Vows
She giggles as I yank her ankle, then throw her over my shoulder and stride toward the shower. I turn the faucet and wait for it to heat as I look at the mirror. She’s watching me with a heated stare. I beam a smile and slap her ass hard. She squeals and bites her lip as I lower her to her feet. I push back her hair as she traces the lines of my chest tattoo.
Perfect. So fucking perfect.
“What do you say to us giving this a go?” I ask.
Her silver-flecked gaze reaches mine, and her head drops to the side, confused. I love it when she looks at me like that—innocence and curiosity.
“What do you mean?”
“You asked me yesterday what we are. There’s no way I’m fucking letting you go now.”
She bites her lip. “Are you going to make me sign a contract?”
I let out a heated laugh as I dip my head to kiss her. The kiss is tender and sweet.
“No contract. But I worry,” I admit. “Because if you say yes, Honey, I’m a selfish man, and I won’t let anyone else touch you. I don’t want you feeling like I’m your only experience.”
She mulls this over for a moment. I know it makes her happy as she bites on her bottom lip. “Why don’t we become swingers if you begin to make the sex boring?”
I grab her ass and twist hardin punishment.
She chuckles and rises onto her tiptoes to kiss me. But as she pulls back, I know there’s uncertainty. Hesitation.Fuck. Maybe she doesn’t want this.But like hell, I can let her go.
“If we do… you’ll have to have dinner with my parents.”
I drop my head back and blow out a breath.
“Dawson, I’m serious. What my parents think matters to me.”
I growl, frustrated, as I follow her into the shower. “Your father hates my guts.”
Water washes over her hair and body. I watch as it trails down her silky soft skin, my cock already twitching at the visual.
“Then do what you do best,” she says sweetly as she wrings out her hair. “Be charming.”
CHAPTER 47
Dawson
My only saving fucking grace is that Crue is out of town and not at this table to give me shit.
Honey’s father stares across the table, absolutely disgusted. His wife reaches over and grabs his hand trying to defuse the situation.
We’re still waiting for our meals to come to the table. I’d hired out the restaurant just for us because, honestly, one of us will probably end up dead. Three of her father’s guards circle the room, and the waiter steps over timidly with the bottles of wine.
Honey is looking between us both. She’s wearing a beautiful light-green, free-flowing dress, and, fuck, she couldn’t look any more innocent if she tried. I look like the big bad wolf stealing away a delicate flower.
“So, Dawson, tell us a little about yourself. We didn’t get to talk much at the wedding,” Honey’s mother says asshe takes a nervous sip of her wine. Mr. Ricci is steadfast with his hardened stare.
I flash her a smile, and in my peripheral vision, I see the vein in her father’s temple pulse. “What would you like to know, Mrs. Ricci?” I ask. And, no, we didn’t have much time at the wedding because I’d cornered their daughter in a damn storage closet.
“Well, you seem like a very capable man. Wealthy and presentable. What drives you to that level of success?” she asks. And I know she’s doing her utmost to aid the situation. Despite Honey’s father hating my existence, her mother is delighted by the idea.
“Have you ever killed a man?” her father suddenly interrupts.
“Papa!” Honey growls out. “Be civilized.”
He mumbles in Italian, and she reprimands him again. Her hand has been clamped with mine the whole time.