Istare down at my phone, wondering if I’ve reverted back to age fifteen.
Mom: Lincoln Burns, you tell me how you let this happen. How is it I find out from Cheryl that my only son is getting married to the beautiful new copywriter? Come home for lunch!
I snort, shaking my head as I type back, Cheryl was also supposed to tell you it’s a ruse, Ma. It’s marketing. Not matrimony.
Her reply flies back like a bullet.
Mom: Regardless, this is the closest I’ve ever seen you to love since that wretched woman. Come home, Lincoln. We need to talk.
I mutter about ten curses, swiping a hand over my face before I hit her contact and call.
Let’s get this over with. Because if we keep texting, this shit will go back and forth all day.
Word travels too fast in this office. I just sent the email to Anna last night letting her know that Dakota and I decided to go along with this madness.
How the hell did Cheryl even find out? And why did she have to tell Mother the instant she heard the news?
“Are you on your way?” Mom says breathlessly, picking up on the first ring.
“No, Ma. I’m working. It’s the middle of the damn day.”
“I guess your lovely assistant didn’t forward your change of plans. You’re visiting your elderly mother, so hop on the first ferry over to Bainbridge.”
My brows pull down. “For the record, you would’ve slapped me if I’d called you my elderly—”
“I’m glad you know your boundaries. I taught you well. Now, prove it by having lunch.”
“There isn’t much to talk about. It’s a harebrained idea marketing drummed up to sell the new line. Anna pitched it as a weird sort of personal endorsement that will catch eyes, and she’s right. We’re new to the wedding scene. We don’t have a chance in hell of competing with the big players unless we’re bold and a little unorthodox.”
“Mm-hmmm. Sure. Do you ever watch the Hallmark channel, Lincoln?”
I actually laugh. Do I look like I have time to binge-watch love stories?
“You know I don’t, Ma. Why even ask?”
“Because. Half of their movies start out with a fake relationship and end with a baby,” she says defiantly. “Now, since you agreed to this and that lovely young lady did too—I’m holding out hope. Unless you paid her to do this? Oh, Lincoln. Please tell me she’s not just in it for the money. Although plenty of great love stories start off that way, too!”
“Ma!” I’m so annoyed I could spit.
She laughs. “You’re just offended that I asked. I’ll see you in an hour, son.”
“I’ll think about it. You can’t just tell me what to do,” I mutter halfheartedly.
“Do not disappoint me. And fake arrangement or not, I should have Miss Poe over for dinner soon. We have a spectacular wedding to plan.” She sighs. “I just wish your father was here to see it.”
“There’s nothing to see. It’s a fake engagement and there’ll be wedding photos with no wedding.”
“No wedding?” She sounds aghast. “Well, we’ll just see about that. Are you on your way or what?”
Damn her, she’s insufferable.
“Fine,” I grind out, ending the call as I stalk to the elevator.
Roughly an hour later after a ride through traffic and a ferry hop with the cool breeze hitting me square in the face, I open Mother’s front door.
She rushes over to hug me like she hasn’t seen me for ten years.
“You’re finally engaged. I don’t have to live forever.”
“Fake engaged, Ma. And you won’t die on us since Dad checked out early.”
She squeezes me tight before her embrace softens and releases me.
“No one lives forever, and your father didn’t go willingly, of course. He’d never do that. It was just his time.”
Yeah. The last thing I want is to relive Dad’s untimely demise.
“Why am I here again?” I ask.
“Because I’m excited for you, Lincoln.” She claps her hands in front of her chest and then pinches my cheek. “Fake or not, you’re finally moving on.”
Fuck.
A terrible part of me wonders if she might be right, and if I am…what then?
“I’ve said it a dozen times and you’re still not listening. I’m not getting married. I’m not even engaged. The crap is a marketing ploy, and nothing else. I don’t plan on getting married for a few more lifetimes.”
A little pitchfork digs at my brain as my words turn over.
If that’s true, why did I tell Dakota we’d spend time together without any bystanders sniffing around until we find out how serious we can be?
Seriousness has its limits when I’ve sworn off marriage to the grave, right?
“Come here, dear. I need to show you something.” She takes my hand and leads me to my father’s study. The same room has served as the family library for years. It’s barely changed since the day Dad died like a weird sort of memorial to him frozen in time.
Shelves line the soaring walls, overflowing with books.
The entire space breathes with a literary soul, whispering in ink and old pages, dreams and ideas and bygone wisdom. I’d spend whole afternoons here growing up, my nose stuffed in a volume bigger than my head, teleported to Narnia, Neverland, and Middle Earth.
I wish like hell I was in a fairy tale now.
Then I wouldn’t be standing here, watching as Ma moves to one well-organized shelf and starts pulling out books for some big lecture. Looks like she’s milling around in fiction.
Sometimes she pulls a book out, scans the front cover, and replaces it quickly. When she’s done rifling through them, she has a stack of paperbacks in vibrant red and white and pastel colors that she needs both hands to hold.
“Here. Read at least three of them,” she says with a severe librarian look.
I look down. The first book on the stack has a man so airbrushed he can’t be real with a woman in his arms and a grinning pig behind them.
Hog Fights Under City Lights: A Second Chance Romance by Emily Bristol.
“Aw, Ma, you’re kidding, right? I don’t have time to read romance novels. Can’t you skip to the point?” Yeah, I already regret coming here.
“These are all fake relationships that turned into happily ever afters. I met Dakota at the office the day I brought cupcakes. You could do worse, you know. Oh, and I hope you found whoever was so rude to her and taught them some manners.” Her left eye twitches with this funny little tic she has when she’s mad.
Considering the rude asshole was me, I’d say the lesson was received.
Also, Nevermore’s new name should be Snitch.
She holds the stack of books out for me insistently.
I make no effort to take them.
“At least choose one!”
“Ma, this is insane. Sure, life imitates art sometimes, but real relationships aren’t based on lies and…” I pause, my eyes flicking to the top cover again. “Pigs who smile, apparently.”
“Boy, where is your imagination?” she mutters under her breath before dropping the books on a table. “Fine. Be that way. But if your ‘marketing stunt’ opens the door for you even a little bit, I’ll pray you don’t mess this up.”
“There will be no messing anything up. It’s not real,” I tell her. “I want you to acknowledge that, Ma. Prove to me you’re not losing it.”
She folds her arms and glares.
Okay, fine. Maybe I took it too far.
“And I’m waiting for you to acknowledge I want grandbabies, Lincoln Burns. You let a few more years slip by and you won’t be a spring rooster anymore.”
“It’s spring chicken, Ma,” I correct. “And maybe you should adopt.”
“That would make them babies. I said grandbabies,” she tells me with all the seriousness of a judge reading out a life sentence. “That means you need to adopt or get laid.”
I jolt back. Did she really say that?
“Ma, my sex life is none of your business,” I snap.
She laughs. “You’re turning red.”
“What? Like hell.” My hands move to my ears where I feel that telltale heat from two little traitors attached to my head.
“See? You’re thirty-two years old and you still can’t lie to me.” She laughs like she’s possessed and then stops suddenly, leveling me with a wide-eyed look. “Waitaminute. I know that look, Lincoln. You did get laid. Was it Dakota?”
She claps her hands together.
Yeah, fuck this. I’m out of here.
Turning my back, I stare at Seattle’s distant outline across the water, wishing I could teleport back there. I’m not even pretending to answer her question.
The whole point of agreeing to Anna’s insanity was also to protect Dakota’s reputation if anyone ever found out about us. She may be a firecracker, but she’s as fragile as blown glass. I won’t have anyone breaking her when she’s already cracked from that assclown who hurt her.
“It was her, wasn’t it?” Mother asks quietly.
“Why would you say that?” I turn slightly, looking over my shoulder.
“Because. If it wasn’t, you would have just denied it until you were blue in your face. You’re miffed but you’re not even putting up a fight—”
“Ma. You’re being ridiculous.”
If there was ever an evil smile, she’s wearing it now. I try not to wince.
“Well, now. This might just be easier than I thought!” Her unfriendly smile blossoms into a grin like she’s already visualizing Dakota with a basketball-sized stomach.
Please. Someone put me out of my misery.
“I could’ve lived my whole life without hearing that, you know. Save the fireworks, Ma. You’re not getting grandkids next year. It’s just not in the cards,” I tell her firmly, scratching the back of my neck.
I feel like there’s a spider trying to burrow under my skin.
“Whatever you say, dear. Brunch?”
“I already ate this morning.”
She frowns. “We’ll call it tea if that makes you feel better. But come sit and talk to me.”
“We’ve been talking, Ma. Hasn’t been helpful.”
The stare she hits me with says I don’t get a choice.
“Look, what you’re overlooking is the fact that these cutesy books and movies about fake relationships blossoming into something real are just stories. This is real life. We’re both professionals and while I can’t speak for Dakota, dating isn’t on the agenda. She’s been burned before and I… You already know.”
Mom stops midstep with a sad look. “Who hurt that poor girl, Lincoln? And yes, we know who hurt you.”
“Can we not go there again? We’ve only been through it a thousand times.” I shake my head bitterly. “My point is, don’t get too attached and overprotective with Nevermore—Dakota, I mean. It’s all a farce.”
“I’m not. I’m just curious.” She picks up her pace, scuttling around the kitchen while I linger at the breakfast bar.
“It’s not my story to tell, Ma. You know I won’t violate an employee’s privacy like that and I’m damned sure not dating her.” I ball my fists on the counter and stretch my arms. “You should be happy your rules are still ironclad.”
“Oh, rules, fools.” Again, she hits me with those puppy dog eyes. “You’re a good man, Lincoln. Sometimes too good for your own well-being and mine.”
A few minutes later, we gather at the table. I help carry a snack tray into the dining room while Mom pours piping hot tea.
We’re dancing around the greatest betrayal of my life—my clusterfuck of an engagement—and I hate that even years after the carnage, it still has the power to suffocate this room like a goddamned mammoth.
For years, the same song and dance.
Mom pleading for me to let it go while I insist I already have. Then I go right back to my safe life with zero room for love, for sex, for anything.
That begs the question. If we’re both damaged goods afraid of anything serious and I’ve admitted this isn’t a romance story, what am I doing with Dakota Poe?
I just know I’m craving more of last night.
With her, I need it a million times over.
“You’re doing a fine job with the company. I’m proud of you,” Ma says, setting down half a sandwich. “But I don’t know where you got the idea that work is everything. We raised you to know better—”
“And I’m here right now with you, in the middle of the workday.”
My eyes fall on the picture hanging behind her. It was their fortieth wedding anniversary. Ma wears a blue sequin dress dancing with a light in her eyes as she stares at my father adoringly. Dad wears a perfectly fitted tux and a smile too big for life on his weathered face.
His arm is snug around her waist. Her head is pressed against his chest.
A dagger goes through my chest.
Growing up, people always talked about how vibrant Mother’s smile was even as she aged. A few weeks after that picture was taken, I lost my father to a brutal heart attack.
It took about a month to realize Mother’s gorgeous smile died with him. Her old pure love cast in bright-white teeth was eventually replaced with a new smile, a quieter one where her mouth always stays closed.
It’s never been the same since.
My mother has a lot of smiles: the kind ones, the wicked kind, the frustrated kind, and the slow, nostalgic kind she wears when she thinks nobody’s looking.
She just doesn’t have that smile anymore.
Watching Dad’s unexpected departure take a piece of her soul was almost as bad as losing him.
She still refers to their fortieth anniversary as her farewell party. Dad died on a charter flight coming back from a business conference. He was gone before the plane even landed for help.
To her, their last anniversary was the closest thing to goodbye.
Even now, I peer at the tired eyes and subtle smile across the table from me.
One more good fucking reason why I’ll never get married.
I don’t care what they say; it’s not ‘better to have loved and lost.’
Better to be safe from that pain, that agony, that destruction.
Better to spend your life making money and bringing order for thousands of people, with a dab of debauchery thrown in when it all gets dull.
Mom is living proof.
Ditto for Wyatt.
I’m damn sure not making the same mistakes.
Mom sips loudly from her teacup and sets it down with a heavy look. “Lincoln, dear, I don’t mean to be morbid, but what happens when I’m gone someday? Who’s your family then? You have cousins out east, of course, but they have their own lives.”
“There’s Wyatt—” I stop myself, hating that I have to wonder if he’ll even be around.
“Ah, yes. That heartbroken, troubled man who—”
“Saved my life,” I cut her off before she reminds me what a lost cause he is. “I owe him my all, Ma. You know that.”
“…son, you know how much I love that you care but…just how long will he be around? If he chooses not to help himself, I mean. He lives rough and doesn’t take care of himself. Who will you have left if I’m gone and you just can’t turn Mr. Emory around?”
“My company. My team,” I grind out, hating that her question darkens my whole head.
“Haughty But Nice?”
Christ, isn’t that enough?
I nod and slurp my tea.
“Well, as your mother, I’m holding out hope that she-who-won’t-be-named didn’t ruin you forever. And I choose to believe this little game with you and Dakota might just be the fire under the butt you need.”
“You watch too many movies. There’s no such thing as true love—”
“Yes, there is,” she says fiercely, drawing up in her chair. “I know. I had it once.”
“You did.” My voice softens with this gentle grief I haven’t acknowledged in ages pushing up. “And you haven’t been the same since—”
She sets her cup down with a loud clink!
“So? Lincoln, that doesn’t make our love any less real. It was so real and beautiful that I still have a punk in a fancy suit across from me talking like a smartass.” She sniffs loudly.
“Sorry.” I hold my hand up defensively.
Her face falls before she looks at me again.
“It’s okay,” she whispers.
“Ma, look, I’m trying to let you down easy before you get any ideas. If you keep believing this is going to magically morph into a real relationship…you’ll wind up pretty disappointed.”
“I’ve been around the block, Lincoln Burns. I’ll manage.” She pauses, staring into her cup before she says, “My only question is, can you handle a teensy bit of surprise in your life?”
Can I?
Her question haunts me as I finish my tea, wondering why I feel so goddamned annoyed that I can’t answer it.
Saturday morning, I find Dakota perched at her desk, diligently working.
There’s something wrong with my brain.
Even the way her little fingers move nimbly over the keyboard does terrible things to my cock.
I know how those hands feel. This woman could be gargling mouthwash with two-day-old bedhead and I’d still want her under me.
“I hope you’re not planning on giving me more work,” she says as soon as she looks up.
“What the hell? I don’t even get a hello?”
“Only if you promise you aren’t task dumping. It’s the weekend.” Her little pout makes my teeth ache, stricken with the urge to bite her.
“Scout’s honor,” I say.
“Somehow, you don’t strike me as a Boy Scout.”
“I was a Marine,” I mutter. “Does that count for anything?”
She hesitates.
“Hmm, well, I suppose.”
“Listen, I got an email from Anna. The photographer wants to do our first shoot next week. I know you hate weddings, so I thought we could take my boat out today and try out the setting alone as a trial run. The clothes are already aboard. You can choose a dress you like before the shoot and you’ll have a chance to get used to everything without the pressure.”
She casts a longing look and sighs.
“Linc, I know what you’re trying to do and I appreciate it, but it’s not necessary. I know what I agreed to. I won’t mess up the shoot.”
She smiles up so bravely, my bright girl with the sun in her hair and determination set in her face.
“What if I just want to see you again on my boat?” My body tenses.
“At least you’re honest. Usually when a man ‘just’ wants to see you again, there’s some flimsy excuse.”
I narrow my eyes.
“You criticizing my game, Nevermore?”
“More like calling it out.”
Brat. I see the smile she’s trying to hold back.
“Well, fuck, I want to see you again regardless. It’s a nice day on the water, but I do think it’s a good idea to prep for the photo shoot. I’ll pick you up in a few?”
“Sure,” she finally says, glancing around.
It’s always a skeleton crew in the office on the weekends and everyone on the floor already went home. Even if they haven’t, my mind says fuck it.
I lean down, cradle her face, and pull her lips to mine.
She moans real sweet for me as I drink her deep, my tongue hinting at exactly what I intend to do.
Later, we’re on the open water, cruising the Puget Sound while Seattle’s evening lights are just beginning to twinkle in the distance.
“Jesus. When you said boat, I thought it’d be some James Bond speedboat. Not a hotel with a hull,” she says, whistling quietly into the wind as we stand on the top deck.
“Got it. I knew you were obsessed with size, Nevermore. Ever heard the phrase that it’s not the size of the boat but the motion of the ocean? Thankfully, I’m blessed with both.”
“Idiot!” She whacks me playfully in the arm, laughing.
“Has work been awkward since we committed to the wedding hoax?” I ask, shifting to a serious tone.
She shakes her head, her hair whipping around delightfully. “The only people making dumb jokes about it are Cheryl and Anna, and I’m pretty used to that.”
“Why are they giving you shit?”
“Well, Anna’s convinced we have chemistry—the real kind—and Cheryl agrees. She’s a huge sucker for romance movies.”
“No wonder she’s best friends with my mother,” I groan, raking back my hair.
Dakota’s green eyes catch mine a second later.
“And what do you think, Nevermore? Does their teasing ruffle your feathers?”
She blushes, but her face is tense. “Chemistry is a loaded word. I think I’d call it energy potential.”
“Energy potential?” I snort. “You sound like a physics teacher.”
She bites her bottom lip, oblivious to how it makes my dick lurch in my pants.
“Well, we definitely have potential for—umm, inspiration, as you put it before—but I kinda thought it was a one-off. You said you didn’t want it to be, and that’s why we agreed to this whole wedding farce, besides the marketing benefit. But this is the first time we’ve really talked outside work since it happened…”
“Yeah. I’ll admit I can be an idiot sometimes,” I say slowly.
Laughter sputters out of her. “No argument there!”
“Careful, hellion. Are we cool, though?” I stare at her, needing her to say yes.
“…I don’t know, Lincoln. You tell me.”
“I hope so. If I’ve upset you, let’s lay it out, here and now.”
“No. We’re good,” she says softly, her eyes searching mine.
“I want to believe you, but you are a Poe. I can’t dismiss the possibility that you’re planning to murder me in my sleep and bury my heart under the neighbor girl’s floorboards. You’re just waiting for one more round of the best dick of your life,” I say with a slow smile.
Her grin stretches from one red ear to the next.
“I won’t murder you—even if your attitude might deserve the death penalty. I still need you to sign my paycheck.”
I laugh. “Glad you have one good reason to keep me around.”
The distance between us closes and we’re standing toe to toe. She props her hand on her hip.
“Thanks for reminding me I’ve been signing stuff for you a lot lately. I could probably forge your signature.”
“All this fluff and you still won’t mention the real reason you like having me around, huh?” I lean closer, audibly inhaling her scent.
I feel her weight shift. She leans up on her toes, flushed scarlet as she gives in, brushing her lips to mine.
Here we go.
Growling, I pull her in, mashing her perfect tits to my chest. One hand skims down the small of her back, stopping to toy with the upper curve of her ass.
“Do you want to see the wedding line or do you just want to fuck? They sent several dresses in your size,” I rasp against her ear, adding a nip of my teeth. “I’d love to see you in them before they’re on the floor. But if you’d rather skip to the best part, I’ll hardly complain.”
“God, you’re just…” She trails off, trembling in my arms, overcome with the same desire coursing through my veins. “…I don’t particularly like white. Fair warning.”
“You’re beautiful in any color. And you never finished that thought about me, Dakota Poe. What do you think I am?”
“Bossy. Way too flipping bossy for your own good. One day it’ll give you a bruising,” she whispers.
“As long as it’s you leaving marks,” I say with a shrug.
Then I take her hand and lead her to the upper cabin near my suite, where the two largest cabinets with the clothes are set up.
“Oh, no. Are we doing that thing where you tell me what to wear and I have to do it because girls and weddings and you’re my boss and blah, blah, blah?” She makes a funny face.
“We are. I want a private show with you modeling everything for me. Don’t bother going anywhere between dresses, I want to see you changing.” My tongue flicks across my lips like the fucking serpent I am.
She hesitates, and I smack her delectable ass lightly.
“Everything’s in there. My tuxes, too.” I point to one door and use my thumb to gesture behind me. “Let’s change separately for this first round and I’ll meet you in the room in fifteen minutes?”
“Sounds good.” Her shoulders are high and her spine straight as she marches into the cabin where I had the gowns laid out for her.
I’ll hold off on round one before I see her naked. If it happens too soon, there’s no way we’re getting through this little trial run.
Fuck.
I still hope this isn’t too much for her, like a buried mine detonating and heaving up bad memories.
I put on a black tux and barely manage to tuck my raging cock into my charcoal pants during the impatient fifteen-minute wait before crossing to the main suite.
When I do, I stalk across the corridor like a tiger and knock.
She answers the door immediately. My eyebrows dart up when I notice she’s still in her black sundress.
“Don’t tell me. You’re backing out?”
She scans up and down my body with her mouth slightly open.
“Classic look. I like it a lot! But what else do they have over there?”
“Navy blue and seersucker, I think, but first I want to know why my bride isn’t dressed?” I glare at her.
“Your decoy bride, you mean?” She smiles. “Honestly, I spent all fifteen minutes trying to pick a dress…”
I smile and shake my head.
“You’re not Cinderella getting dolled up for the ball. Try them all. That’s the whole point,” I tell her.
She gives a rigid shrug.
I wonder if it’s so simple. Her reluctance to choose a dress might be connected to her hatred for all things wedding related.
“You’re okay with this, right?” I grab her hand, pushing her thin fingers through mine. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. No money ever minted is worth your tears, Dakota.”
She gives me a slow look, something dark and melancholy spinning in her eyes.
“That’s really sweet but…you don’t need to treat me like a victim. I’m fine, Linc. Everyone has crap to deal with. Go try another tux on and I’ll be dressed in fifteen minutes.”
She gives me a firm look, a promise set on her face.
“All right, I’ll hold you to it.” I lean over and kiss her before I exit.
This time, I choose a cream tux I didn’t notice before.
Fifteen minutes later on the dot, I knock on the door again.
When she doesn’t answer, I nudge it open since it’s unlocked.
My jaw instantly hits the fucking floor.
Dakota stands in front of a full-length mirror in a long white dress. Pale silk flows around her like a foaming waterfall. She’d be beauty incarnate, Aphrodite come down to smack every man ever born with her glory—especially this damn man—except for the fact that her jaw is clenched so tight her temples bulge.
Her reflection in the tall mirror beams back glossy eyes.
My heart crash lands in my gut. I have to do something.
“I thought you hated white? You look like you could be the swan in some Russian ballet. Nice change from the raven schtick, Poe,” I say, playing up the sarcasm.
She whips around at the sound of my voice, turns to face me, and smiles. It doesn’t touch her eyes.
Damn.
“That’s a really nice color for you,” she says softly, her eyes trailing down my body. “Your chest is accented.” She scans further. “Oh, and your legs. They look powerful in those slacks.” She meets my eyes. “That’s the one for sure. Anything less would do the photos a disservice.”
“Glad we settled that.” I brush my hands together like our work is done and close the space between us, wrap my arms around her, and twirl her to face the mirror again. “Do you know how fucking hot you look right now?”
She doesn’t answer, just glances away quickly.
“Sweetheart, why do your eyes look so sad?” I whisper, grabbing her and pulling her into my embrace.
“I just—I don’t know, okay? I’m probably overreacting…”
I thought she might get upset no matter how much she prepared. Seeing herself decked out in a dress when the first time was so traumatic can’t be easy or controllable.
That’s why I arranged this—to help her and help me—but still. I can’t handle seeing Nevermore in tears, and her eyes are only becoming glossier.
“I want you to look at me and listen.” I wait for her eyes, gently urging them to meet mine with two fingers under her chin. “You’re beautiful, Dakota Poe. God himself wouldn’t change a single solitary thing about you.”
Her face screws up. A muffled sob falls out of her.
“I-I’m not sure. But thanks.” She sniffs again, staring up like she’s seeing me for the very first time. “Thank you, Lincoln. That might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said.”
I smile.
“I’m only stating the obvious, woman. I know you can see the effect you have on me,” I growl, pushing into her belly, making her feel my hard-on.
Red excitement fills her face.
“You weren’t thinking about the dress, were you?” she asks.
“Technically, yes, if thinking about ripping the damn dress off counts.”
“That’s my point.”
“Nevermore, that’s what every man thinks when he sees a wedding dress worth anything. That’s half the reason we agree to get dressed up and march down the aisle.” I search her eyes. “Now you know.”
She laughs, wiping her cheek.
“There must be some good men out there still.”
“Yeah, and they’re all boring as hell.” I lean in and kiss her neck. “Wanting to make love to his wife doesn’t make a man bad.”
I leave a string of kisses down the side of her neck until I’ve reached her clavicle.
“Mmm. Fine. I guess you can be pretty convincing.” She sighs.
She has no goddamned clue, but I aim to enlighten her.
I gently spin her around in my arms, pulling her tighter so her silk-clad bottom rests against the seething bulge she felt a few minutes ago. I kiss the spaghetti strap of the wedding dress.
“A wedding and a marriage aren’t the same thing. Not wanting to stand through a long ceremony on full display doesn’t mean you don’t value the marriage.” I push the strap over with my hand so I can kiss the bare skin under it. “Girls are so weird. If my bride wanted a sixty-second ceremony so she could get me alone, I’d think it was the hottest shit ever.”
Nevermore giggles and her eyes come alive again in green witchfire.
Finally.
I kiss her from her shoulder to the back of her neck, trailing my mouth down her back until I meet the section of dress where the pearl clasps begin.
She wiggles her ass against me, freeing her baser instincts.
I’m so damn ready, bringing my hands over her breasts.
She whimpers.
I smile, knowing that sigh would be a lot louder without this dress in the way.
I’m about to ask if I’m a bad person if I need to destroy it right now, but before I can she turns to face me, closes her arms around my neck, and brings her face to mine.
Her tongue meets mine with a hunger and an urgency and a mad glint in her eye.
I take her then, matching her passion with my own pressure.
She moans against my mouth, pouring sticky heat against my tongue.
I can’t unclasp the pearls fast enough.
Her hands go to my waist. She undoes my pants and they fall down around my ankles.
A second later, her back is free, open for my hands. I shove the dress off her, freeing her in all her snow-white glory tipped with pink.
The way she shivers as the dress falls is so sexy and enticing I almost come in my pants.
Enough.
I’m done wasting time doing anything but making her sweet ass entirely mine.
Placing my hands under her rear, I lift her to me, aligning our bodies perfectly. Warm, molten heat between her legs glides against my skin.
“You’re so fucking wet for me. You make me obsessed, Nevermore,” I whisper.
My body pulses like an armed grenade.
I take a few clumsy steps to the wall with Dakota in my arms and push her against it.
“Dakota, can I—”
“Please?”
It’s all she has to say.
My hand moves down and I grab her panties, shredding them off in one swipe. The noise is loud, feral, a voice for the unhinged desire splitting me in two.
“Spread your legs,” I tell her, already grabbing my cock, shocked at how hot it feels in my hand.
I don’t wait.
Not the fuck today.
A single, powerful thrust pins her to the wall and I groan, only holding my eyes open to watch hers roll.
“Lincoln!” My name comes from deep in her throat, all husky fire.
Her grip around my neck tightens as she gives me those nails like the fuck bunny she is and leans forward to kiss my lips with total greed in her eyes.
Yeah, sweetheart.
Give it up.
I’ll shake you right down.
But she lets go of my neck as the kisses slow, even as I pull at her bottom lip with my teeth, sucking it into my mouth, holding her hostage.
My forehead rests on hers.
Our eyes meet, molten pools drawn together like magnets.
I rear back and thrust into her again, claiming her sweet little cunt.
It’s on.
Each stroke comes faster, harder than the last. I stir her from within, reflecting the storm that’s ripping me apart from the inside out.
“Oh. Oh! Oh, shit,” she whispers, her breathing ragged.
“Dakota,” I whisper, forcing my eyes open as I dive into her again to the hilt.
I have to make myself hold still.
Goddamn, it’s really not like it was with anyone else.
Sex with Dakota Poe is a meditation in lust. It takes more control to hold myself together than it does to send her crashing over the edge.
She holds her hands above her head, pinned against the wall with mine, her whole being vibrating. She’s about to come and I know it, her green eyes huge and gleaming.
“Let go.”
“W-what?” she whispers.
“Let it fucking go. I want to feel your pussy twitch when you blow. Suck me off without using your mouth,” I growl, pushing my head to hers, thrusting again for good measure.
A frustrated whine spills out of her and I know she won’t last long.
“Don’t stop!” she gasps through worn breaths.
Woman, like that’s even an option. You will dismember me if I stop now.
I reposition my arms so they’re between the wall and her head for extra leverage. Then it’s just a frenzied collision of hips, of sweat, of muffled breaths and muted curses and two desperate bodies melting into one.
I mean to fuck her straight through her first O when it hits, to make this last, but she tightens around me. It’s like pure silk squeezing the angry tip of my cock, urging me deeper, faster, harder.
“Dakota—fuck!” I’m roaring for her.
“Don’t stop, please!” she whines again.
I won’t deny her.
Her arms are fused around my neck, bolting me to her flesh. I lunge forward, letting her engulf me, filling her to the brim with a sound that’s less than human tearing from my throat.
There’s barely a second to brace for the fire fountaining up the base of my spine, lashing my brain like a whip.
Her orgasm, her heat, her everything quickens.
Her beautiful body clenches around me, and she lets out all the breath in her lungs with a light squeal.
The silence after is glorious and so intense I’m sure it shames the creation of the universe.
“Never-more.” I push it out of my mouth like two separate words.
Then I release so hard and fast I’m blinded.
