Page 46 of Desperate Measures

I might have drooled.

“W-what—” but that was as far as I got.

“You’re my wife,” Liam snapped, dropping his pants,

He stood there in his tented black boxer briefs and dragged me to him by my shoulders.

“And you’re not going anywhere.”

Chapter 17-Liam

There were all sorts of stereotypes about hotheaded Irishmen and believe me, I’d heard them all, growing up in south Boston.

But I never took offense.

Hell, I barely even understood half the things that were said.

But right then as I took my fully clothed wife in my arms and plastered my mouth to hers with all the finesse and suavity of a conquering barbarian, I felt like a fighter who’d gone ten rounds with Satan himself.

And I was ready for another ten.

Leaving me?

Hell no.

She wasn’t going anywhere.

This marriage may have started out a business deal. But business was the farthest fucking thing from my mind as she pushed her tongue into my mouth.

Fuck.

“You taste so good, Sweetheart,” I growled, using one hand to hold her by the neck while I dragged her ivory jacket off with the other.

She looked so good. So pure and innocent. I couldn’t help it.

I wanted to dirty her up. To get her so fucking primed for me, she’d ruin her panties. So I told her as I licked into her mouth, then her jaw and neck.

I told her how fucking hot she was. Told her all the naughty things I was going to do to her.

“Liam,” she whispered my name and gasped as I tugged her pants over her hips and left them to fall into a gentle swoosh at her feet.

“Boots off, Baby,” I commanded, and she stepped out of them.

Her midnight eyes were heavy-lidded as I turned her around, facing the mirror. I wrapped one arm around her, cupping her lace-covered tits, and shoved my other hand down her matching panties.

She probably thought the full briefs were modest, but they were see-through in the most tantalizing places. Giving me sweet glimpses of her hot little pussy, and fuck me, I was leaking all over my shorts.

“Christ, you wear the sexiest fucking underwear,” I growled, parting her slick folds with my fingers.

Her mouth opened, and she panted, leaning all her weight on me.

I fucking loved it when she did that.

As if I was someone she could lean on, depend on, come to when she needed something.

I might be a prick, but I could do this. I could bring her pleasure. And I wanted to. Fuck. I needed to.

I tugged her nipples and closed my mouth over her neck, scraping my teeth over her flesh. The scent of lilacs surrounded me and I groaned as she adjusted her stance, spreading her thighs for my fingers.