Bound To His Bride Read online

  I close my eyes, my mouth tightening and my gut clenching. Even the thought of being with another man like that, no matter how things ended with Colm, makes me sick. The knock comes again.

  “I have to go.”

  “Better call me later and tell me all the gory detail—”

  “If I ever talk to you again, please feel lucky.”

  Belinda snorts a laugh as I hang up on her, just as the fist pounds on the door a third time, even more aggressively.

  “Give me a second!” I bark. “Jesus.” My eyes are narrowed in a scowl as I head for my bedroom to find pants. The fist pounds once more, and I lose it.

  “You know what, Brett!?” I bark at the door. “Please fuck off. I’m not interested, okay?!”

  There’s silence, and I cross my arms over my chest, arching a brow, waiting for… something. An apology, maybe, or even a “well fuck you too.” But I get nothing. There’s a small sound from the other side of my door, and I’m frowning, trying to figure out what the heck Brett is up to, when suddenly the entire door explodes into the apartment.

  I scream, scurrying backwards and tumbling to the floor as the door smashes into the entryway in a hail of splinters. A dark shape shoves his way in, and the scream lodges in my throat as I kick across the floor away from the man. I whirl, reaching up and yanking the metal bowl that holds my keys in it from the entryway table, brandishing it high as the man kicks away the last splinters of my door and steps inside.

  My heart seizes in my throat.

  That’s not Brett.

  He’s huge, hulking, and evil-looking, dressed in a black suit with a black shirt open at the collar, gold chains across his hairy chest.

  “Abby Jennings?”

  I swallow, my face going white, my pulse racing through me like fire. The man grins wickedly as he reaches into his jacket, and slowly pulls out a gun.

  “You’re comin’ with me, now.”

  I shake my head, trying to find words, or the ability to scream, but I’m failing at both.

  “Get your sweet ass off the floor, bitch,” he snarls, the smile fading quickly. “And let’s go.”

  I stare at him, blinking, my pulse racing and everything spinning.

  “Get—get out!” I scream. But the man just grins wickedly at me a he steps into the apartment.

  “Naw, you’re comin’ with me, baby,” he sneers. His eyes trail down my figure, and something cold and sickly washes over me as his disgusting gaze lingers on my chest and my panties.

  “But…” he drawls, sneering at me as he sets the gun down on the side table by the wrecked door. His hands move for his belt, and a wave of nausea washes over me.

  “But maybe you and me could have a little fun before we—”

  He grunts, his eyes flying wide and his mouth suddenly going slack. I stare, blinking, barely breathing as I watch his eyes roll back in his head, until suddenly, he goes toppling forward. I gasp and shove myself away, yanking my feet away just in time as the guy smashes face-first into the floor.

  My breath comes in hard, jerking gasps, before suddenly, I realize I’m not alone. Slowly, my eyes drag up—up from the creep slumped on the ground, up over the black motorcycle boots and the dark denim jeans standing in my doorway. It’s when I get to the belt buckle that something familiar hits me. Drinking in the black t-shirt pulled tight across rippling abs and a familiar chiseled chest takes my breath away. The ink on his muscled arms is a dead giveaway, and the deep, body-trembling, toe-curlingly masculine growl that catches low in his throat drives the whole thing home.

  I look up in to his face, and my breath stops.

  My pulse skips a beat, and my entire traitorous body aches for him.

  “You—”

  “We need to go,” he growls quietly, his eyes locked on mine, this roaring fire blazing in that gaze as he steps towards me.

  I shake my head, swallowing, blinking up at him.

  Because standing in my doorway, his blue eyes flashing fire, his broad, muscled shoulders heaving, and his gorgeous, chiseled jaw clenched tight, is Colm.

  …Standing right in front of me for the first time in six months is my husband.

  I don’t know if it’s real. I don’t know if I’m dreaming. But then suddenly, faster than my brain or my heart can even process it, he’s closing the distance between us.

  He moves towards me, stepping over the guy slumped on the floor as I gasp and step back until my butt is against the back of my couch.

  “Colm—”

  “Abby,” he groans. He doesn’t stop, only moves closer and closer to me, until I gasp as his huge, rock-hard body presses into mine, pinning me to the piece of furniture.

  “You can’t…” I swallow. “You can’t just—”

  “Yes, I can,” he growls quietly, his eyes blazing. “Just like I can do this.”

  His arms slide around me, he pulls me tight, and my breath catches just before his lips crush to mine.

  And suddenly, I don’t even care what’s real, a dream, or about anything else but his lips on mine.

  3

  Colm

  This wasn’t the plan. But “the plan” can go fuck itself right now. The whole fucking world can go get lost, for all I care. Because for the first time in way, way too long, I’ve got her lips on mine, and the sweetness of her moan melting into me.

  No, the plan was, after taking out the guys on the roof, I saw the other asshole ducking in to the front door of the building—Nino Soperta, a cousin of the Luctretas. To put it bluntly, Nino is who you call when you can’t get me. He’s the B-list version of me, if even that. But one look at him slipping into the front door, and I was running.

  Down the stairwell of the abandoned building, across the street, up four flights of stairs to her building. I saw the van on the way over, too, with the other Lucreta boys lingering outside of it smoking cigarettes. They sent a small fucking army for Abby, which only means they almost expected me to try and stop them.

  They didn’t “expect” enough, though, I can promise that. Not by a damn mile. They didn’t expect the fury of hell from me when Abby was threatened.

  I’ve thought through fifty-thousand conversations with her in the six months I’ve been without her. A hundred-thousand first lines, or apologies. “The plan” was for everything to be set first—all my ducks in a nice clean row. I’d be out of the Lucreta family for good, and settled into the new empire I’ve created. I’d tell her everything—why I left, why I disappeared. Why her being near me was dangerous until I had everything set.

  But life doesn’t stick to your goddamn plans. Tonight is proof of that, and now here we are. No first lines. No conversations. No apologies. Just my lips on hers, the way it was always meant to be.

  The way it’s always going to be.

  I wasn’t prepared to see her. I thought I was. And fuck, I’ve been looking at her for six goddamn months. But always from a distance. Always from the rooftop, or from a block behind her, trailing her to make sure she got home okay.

  The neighborhood she moved to after, well, after us, wasn’t the worst. But it was pretty fucking close. There’ve been two times in the last few months where I’ve spotted the predator after her late at night coming off the subway before she even knew she was prey.

  …Neither of them are predators anymore. Neither of them are breathing anymore, actually.

  But “from a distance” never prepared me for being this close to her.

  Clearly.

  I kiss her slow and deep, swallowing the moan that tumbles from her throat and tasting the sweetness of her lips. My entire body comes alive, my skin blazing with fire, every muscle in my body clenching and coiling with the need to take her, pin her to me.

  To bind her to me, forever this time.

  But suddenly, she’s pulling away. Suddenly, her hands push at me, her mouth slips from mine, and she sidesteps out of my arms. I whirl, but she moves quickly, backing away, her eyes wide and her face bright pink—her hands covering her mou
th as she slowly shakes her head.

  I know I should keep back. I know after what she’s been through the last six months, she needs space. But god-fucking-damnit, I’ve had “space” between us for six fucking months, and I am done with space. My eyes land on her, my senses tingle, craving her, needing her—not even remotely satisfied with the one kiss and the one touch of her body to mine.

  And suddenly, I can feel myself start to lose control. I know we have to go. I know the guys in the van downstairs and probably a lot more are going to come in here guns blazing when none of the guys they sent first respond. I’m not one to run, ever. And I can take a lot, but I can’t fight the whole mob single-handedly. Definitely not while also trying to protect her.

  And yet even with all of that hanging over my head, all I can really concentrate on her, and the roaring, primal, undeniable urge blazing through me to claim her. To kiss her again, and hold her. To make her mine. I feel like some sort of jungle beast—like a goddamn lion who’s seen his mate, with only one primal thought churning through me.

  …To take her.

  I don’t even just want to kiss her, or touch her. It’s more than that. I want to mate her. I want to crush my mouth to hers, pin her to the wall or to the floor and plunge inside of her. I want to feel her screaming for me as I mark her deep with my cum. I don’t just want to taste her, or claim her again. I want to fucking consume her.

  I blink, barely able to breath, the nearness of her after so long almost like too powerful a drug. A drink strong enough to knock me on my ass.

  “Colm.”

  She breathes my name, and it’s almost my undoing. I know we have to go. But hearing my name on the lips I’ve dreamt about for six fucking months is almost enough for me to say fuck it all, and to have her right here, danger be fucking damned.

  “You—you’re really…” she trails off, my pulse still racing as my eyes drop to the guy slumped unconscious on the floor. “Colm—”

  “We have to go, and we have to go now.”

  I stride towards her, but she shivers, her eyes narrowing at me as she backs away, moving all the way into her kitchen.

  “No,” she hisses, shaking her head, her eyes narrowing at me. “Goddamnit, Colm, you can’t just waltz in here as if—” Abby looks away. “You can’t just…”

  “I can’t what,” I growl, frowning. “I can’t knock the fuck out of some creep threatening my wife after breaking down her goddamn door?”

  My wife.

  I know she hears those words, and I know they sink in deep. Heat flushes through her as the fierceness blazes through me. Goddamn is she enticing. Gorgeous. Perfect. This mix of cock-throbbingly sexy and so damn sassy she could light a fire with that look of hers.

  “You disappeared,” she hisses quietly. “Damnit, Colm! You—”

  “Abby,” I growl lowly. “You wanna be mad at me? Fine. But later. Now, we need to get the fuck out of here.”

  “Yeah?” she sneers. “And why’s that?” she purses her lips and jabs a finger at Nino on the floor. “Is there more of your mob bullshit about to fuck with my life or something?”

  “Yes.”

  She stops short, blinking and swallowing quickly. There’s just a flash of fear on her face, but then it’s gone, replaced by fierceness.

  “Yeah,” I say, quieter this time. “There’s more coming, and they’re not gonna stop. So we need to go, now.”

  “No,” Abby spits, crossing her arms over her soft, full chest. “Uh-uh. I walked away to get away from—”

  “And I made a vow,” I growl, my voice edged, my eyes blazing at her as I move closer. “I made a vow to protect you, angel, and to keep you safe. And right now, to do that, we need to go. Both of us.”

  She chews on her lip, eying me, like she’s deciding. And me? Well, my whole fucking body is waffling between wanting to say fuck it to her little attitude and just drag her on out of here, and wanting to yank her into my arms again and kiss those perfect lips until they’re swollen and sore. Maybe both.

  “And if I refuse?”

  My brow arches, and my lips pull back in a small, smug smile.

  “You planning on refusing?”

  “I haven’t made up mind yet,” she mutters back. “But if I do?”

  I shrug. “Then I throw that pretty ass over my shoulder and carry you out of here.”

  I can’t quite tell if it’s indignation or raw lust, but whatever it is that sears through her and flashes through her eyes at my words leaves her flushed and shivering.

  Abby swallows thickly.

  “I think you should go.”

  “I think I should go too, but you’re coming with me.”

  “Like hell I am.”

  My eyes narrow at her, but fuck does that sass get my blood roaring hot inside. That defiance gets my cock thickening in my jeans, and I groan as I step towards her.

  “Abby—”

  “No,” she huffs, shaking her head. “You can’t just waltz in here and… and kiss me like nothing’s—” She gasps as my hands slide over her waist, fingers brushing the lace edge of her panties as I yank her against me. My blood thunders through my veins, and the last possible shred of me holding back from taking her right here and now and showing her how mine she is begins to unravel.

  “Yeah, angel,” I growl, my lips brushing hers as she gasps quietly.

  “Yeah, I can.”

  My lips crush to hers, and instantly, the whole world goes numb. Time stops, the Earth stops spinning. The fact that half the mob is probably on their way here right now, or the fact that she’s still supposed to be mad at me just disappears. She whimpers into my mouth, and fuck, all that shit just fades away as I kiss her with everything I have and everything I am. Abby moans into my lips, her body pressing into mine, her fingers finding my t-shirt and holding on tight as I kiss her mouth the way I’ve wanted to for the last six goddamn months.

  But suddenly, with a gasp, she pulls away, and before I even see it coming, her hand flies back and then slaps me hard across my cheek. I grunt, but when I look back, I see her eyes go wide, her hands flying to her mouth.

  “Oh my God, Colm…”

  But I’m not angry. Fuck, maybe I had that coming after the last six months.

  …Maybe that kind of fire in her gets me even harder.

  But either way, we’re out of time. There’s so much more to say, and more to hash out, but this is not the time or place. Because we need to move, now.

  “Well,” I purr, eyeing her as she slowly pulls away from me, her eyes wide. “So much for the easy way.”

  Abby shrieks as my hands suddenly yank her up, tossing her face-down across my shoulder and turning for the door.

  “Damnit, Colm!”

  She screams, pummeling my broad, muscled chest with her fists and squirming against me. But I don’t even budge. I just keep striding right out of the kitchen, through her living room, over Nino on the floor and right out the smashed front door.

  I let her walk away once. I let her slip out of my life, and I’ve spent six months in hell ever since.

  So she wants to be mad? Fine. She wants to hiss swears in my ears from that sweet little mouth as her fists rain down on my back? She can go right ahead.

  Because the only thing that matters, as far as I’m concerned, is that she’s back in my arms.

  …Where she was always meant to be.

  4

  Abby

  Four flights of stairs later, I’ve stopped fighting him. I’ve stopped swearing at him, and kicking him, and squirming against his firm grip. For one, because I know how useless it is with a man as huge and as strong as Colm. But for two?

  My face blushes.

  Reason number two is because writhing against his rock-hard shoulder and arm muscles and trying to squirm my way out of that possessive, firm grip isn’t getting me any freer.

  …It’s getting me wetter.

  Heat blooms through me, my cheeks going crimson as I bite my lip between my teeth.

&
nbsp; No, stop that.

  But my body doesn’t listen. My nipples don’t get any less hard, digging through my cotton tank top into his muscled back. My thighs don’t clench any less tightly together, with my pussy grinding right against his shoulder, heat blooming between my legs. The forbidden fire roaring inside of me doesn’t die down a single bit at my lame attempts at telling myself to stop it. Because mad or not, six months away from Colm? From the most gorgeous, hottest, filthiest absolute sex-god of a man on freaking earth?

  Well, to say I’m “on edge” is the understatement of the century. And with those muscles rippling against me, and those huge, powerful hands gripping me so tight and possessively, it’s everything I can do not to freaking moan as we reach the bottom of the stairwell.

  Colm kicks the back door to the apartment building open and strides into the junky parking lot behind the place. The air is cool, what with me just wearing a tank top and freaking panties, and when he sets me down, I shiver before my eyes focus on what he’s stopped in front of.

  He’s still got it.

  I mean, I don’t know why Colm wouldn’t still have his jet black and chrome 72’ Mustang. But with him disappearing, I guess I sort of wrote the car off too.

  I shiver runs through me as my eyes drink in the sensual black lines, glinting in the dim overhead lights of the parking lot. I have a lot of memories of this car. Of road trips taken, of course. And picnics and cold beer we had laying in each other’s arms on a blanket in its shadow on summer days. But there are other ones that come to mind. Like the feel of that sleek, polished hood against my back, my legs spread and my moans screaming into the night sky as Colm plunges his thick, gorgeous cock in and out of me.

  Like clawing at the trunk, one foot up on the fender and pleasure rippling through me as Colm grips my hip tight and pulls my hair, yanking me back onto every inch of his big cock as the orgasm shatters through me.

  Like riding him for what felt like hours in the backseat.

  Like seeing the smudged print of my own bare foot on the inside of the windshield and blushing at the memory, and wondering which time it was from.