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I’ve never wanted to hit someone more than I do right now. Randall Crowe’s always been an asshole, but his blatant fucking disgusting comments toward Tara enrage me. I’m trying to control the vibration of my body, making sure he doesn’t notice just how full of fury I am.
Tara’s squeezing my hand so tightly that I’m sure if I wasn’t holding it, she’d knock his ass out. No doubt she’s pissed I’m not responding to his comments, but I can’t cause a disturbance in front of my colleagues.
Her other hand holds the full glass of wine I picked up for her earlier. With the engagement party and the wedding being so busy, I thought maybe it was just a coincidence, but it can’t be. I haven’t seen her take a single sip of her wine. If she doesn’t drink alcohol, why doesn’t she just tell me that? I know we aren’t close, but that’s something she could easily just explain. A sudden wave of anger crashes through me, thinking about her keeping secrets.
I’m glad she changed her mind and decided to accompany me tonight. I don’t know what made her decide to come, but I don’t care. She’s here, that’s all that matters. Even though I know she’d rather be anywhere else—as would I.
I practically had to chain my jaw shut to keep it from falling open when she walked down the stairs tonight, dressed in the dress I’d picked out. I thought she’d come down in something else just to defy me, but she didn’t.
The light pink fabric clings to her body like a second skin, showing off her slim waist, her curvy hips, and perfect breasts. She’s even wearing matching heels. She looks stunning, so fucking gorgeous, but part of me knows this look isn’t her. As perfect as she is in that dress, it’s not something this firestorm would ever pick herself.
Tara opens her mouth to say something back to Randall that I already know will be sassy. I squeeze her hand hard in warning. She’s already said enough tonight. I know the prick deserves whatever she’s thinking about spitting at him, but I have appearances to keep up. I need to look like I can control my wife. The sharks will sense blood in the water the moment I don’t rein her in, and I won’t risk it. If she draws too much attention to herself, they’ll crush her in ways she couldn’t even imagine. I might be a dick, but I won’t let her be collateral in the war for power in this firm.
Most important of all, I can’t give Randall any more reasons to go after me.
Her angry glare flicks to me, pissed that I’m stopping her. I can see the storm brewing in her eyes, ready to unleash a hurricane of emotions on everyone in her path. We have a silent argument with just our eyes. She wants to go off on Randall, but my eyes tell her to keep her mouth shut. I can’t help but notice the hurt in her gaze that I’m not standing up for her.
She doesn’t need me to stand up for her though; she can do that all on her own. She’s strong enough to handle any of these fuckers that are here, even me. I’ll let her stick it to Randall fucking Crowe one day—just not today.
She sneers back at Randall before she turns, pulling her hand from mine to walk away.
Shit, I’m already giving Randall more ammunition than I wanted. I can’t let her leave. I’ll do anything to make them believe Tara and I are in love. To make them believe this little quarrel was nothing. If any of these fuckers don’t believe our marriage is real, they’re about to.
Grabbing her wrist, I spin her around and plant my mouth right on hers, swallowing her surprised gasp. My fingers move to grip the back of her neck and pull her closer. She resists at first, but the second my lips move against hers, she melts into me.
My other hand rests on the small of her back. She relaxes her body, letting me feel her luscious curves rubbing against me. I dip my tongue into her mouth, deepening the kiss. My dick jerks to life when her warm tongue brushes against mine, but I don’t stop. I’m not sure I can stop at this point.
Fuck me, her lips are addictive.
This kiss started as a show, but right now, I don’t give two fucks who’s watching or who believes it. The room fades around us, making the heat of everyone’s stares disappear. She’s the only thing I can focus on, the only thing that matters to me at this moment.
All I want is to get closer to Tara, and I’m not even drunk this time.
Her sweet fucking taste has me captivated. I can’t get enough of her.
Her arms wrap around my neck. She rubs against my aching cock as she presses hard against me. I know she can feel what she’s doing to me, but I don’t care. She affects me in ways I never anticipated.
At this point, we’re full on making out in the middle of the office lobby, but I don’t give a fuck. My last name is on the outside of the building—if they don’t like it, they can leave.
I’ve never felt like this before with any woman. The need, the tingles, the buzzing. The possessiveness, the need to own her in every way possible. I pull her plump bottom lip between my teeth, causing the sexiest moan to escape her. My mind can’t help but wander back to our wedding night when I had Tara half naked on top of my desk, my cock aching to bury itself deep inside her warmth.
I had to stop myself before I made a mistake. I was drunk. I would’ve woken up the next day regretting it. I’ve been trying to tell myself the only reason I devoured her that day was because I was drunk, but the way I’m feeling right now is debunking that myth. She’s slowly becoming an obsession. One that drives me mad, pushing me to the brink of recklessness.
I hurt her by walking away that night, but I had to. Otherwise, it could’ve been so much worse.
A throat clearing to our right pulls us from our bliss. Randall arches a brow in disgust. “Nice show, but if you’re gonna be a whore, do it somewhere else. We’re trying to celebrate here. We don’t need you climbing Nix in the middle of the party.” His eyes are directly on Tara. The fucking double standards of this world are ridiculous. I was just about ready to rip her dress off, but no one bats an eye at me because I’m a man.
A growl rips through Tara. She’s fed up with Randall’s bullshit, and I’m not gonna stop her this time. “I’ll fuck my husband wherever I want to, Randall. I don’t answer to you, and neither does Marnix. Stop being a jealous asshole just because your wife won’t touch you with a ten-foot pole. Now if you’ll excuse us, I’m really tired of looking at your face.”
I smirk. That’s my girl.
Shit. No.
Not my girl.
Tara grabs my hand, pulling me away from Randall. We stop near the wall away from the crowd and she places her palms on my chest, looking up at me. The warmth of her hands has me wanting to take her into my office, shut the door, and fuck her on my desk. After that little display, it would be warranted. She’s fucking incredible. Her green eyes are soft, searching for any sign that I’m not going to be an asshole right now.
The way she’s looking at me makes me realize I’m sending her mixed signals. I can’t have her thinking this is more than it is—because it’s not. Not ever. If I let her think we could be more, it’ll only hurt her in the end.
