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"Be sure." Rick takes my hand in between his big paws. "We’ll be on-hand to tap sense into his thick skull."
I look toward the sleeping man, as do the two of them. Lying there with his eyelids closed and his eyelashes fanning over his cheekbones, he seems at peace. But I know better. There’s so much tearing him apart from the inside, and if he doesn’t deal with it, it’s going to spill over—and oh, god, I’m not sure what’s going to happen then. Will he hurt himself? I know he won’t hurt me. That much I know about this man. At his core, he’s a man who knows good from bad, but his values have been tested, given what he’s been through, and he’s yet to find a balance.
"Don’t forgive him too easily." Finn arches an eyebrow in my direction.
"Make him pay for it," Rick agrees, then releases my hand. "But I’m sure we don’t need to tell you that, do we?" He nods toward his friend, and with a last glance at my husband, followed by a kiss on my cheek from each of them, they turn and leave.
I stare at Knight for a few seconds more, then hold up my dress and make my way back to my room.
I slide into bed, and reaching for my feather bouquet, I press it into my chest. The next time I open my eyes, I’m clutching the bouquet. It’s dark outside. I glance at my phone on the nightstand and realize it’s four a.m. Dawn is a few hours off.
I sit up, and holding the bouquet, swing my legs over. I rise to my feet and stretch, holding the bunch of feathers over my head. Something makes me glance toward the corner of the room, and I gasp, "What are you doing here?"
49
Knight
The bouquet begins to slip from her fingers. I jump up from the chair and close the distance to her in time to catch it before it touches the floor. I straighten, then look from it to her. "It’s customary for the bride to toss the bouquet over her shoulder to a group of single women."
"It’s customary for the groom to accept a ring from his bride at the wedding,” she retorts.
"I hate any kind of metal next to my body." I frown.
"Is that why you don’t wear your dog tags?"
I stiffen; every muscle in my body tenses. She notices my reaction and holds up her hand. "Sorry I asked."
She goes to brush past me, but I step in her way. "It’s also customary for a bride to carry a bouquet of flowers." I glance pointedly at the bunch of blue feathers.
"Like it is for the groom to stay with his bride through the reception. And to cut a cake and have a first dance, and to kiss the bride after the vows are exchanged."
"Lay back down," I snap.
"Excuse me?"
"On the bed, my new blushing bride."
"So you can consummate the marriage? No, thank you."
She tries to push past me, but I don’t budge.
"What do you want, Knight?" she asks in a tired voice. "Isn’t it enough you diminished me in my own eyes? Do you want to rub in the fact that you own me and my time and my choices? Is that what this is about?"
A strange sensation squeezes my chest. I don’t dare examine it too closely. If I did, I might have to call it remorse. And that’s something I haven’t experienced in a while… Not in a situation not connected to my team and what I let happen to them. And—
Goddamn it, but I was in the wrong. She's still wearing her wedding dress as if to remind me. And I need to make it up to her in the one way I know I can. The one way I know will make her forget everything that happened yesterday. The only way in which I can communicate to her without fear of hurting her—except in the way she yearns for, only she doesn’t know it yet.
"You wanted a kiss. I’m giving you a kiss."
"I changed my mind."
"Too late."
She huffs. "I’m a woman. I’m allowed to change my mind."
"Not this time."
She firms her jaw, and that look of defiance on her features is such a fucking turn on. Everything about her makes me want to find a way to subdue her, to handle her body and mark her skin and squeeze her curves and imprint my dick inside her pussy all over again.
