“God, no.” He feels good, so good. But he’s huge, way bigger than any of my toys. “You’re just big. So big.” I wiggle my hips and he hisses out a breath, grabbing my waist.
“Don’t say that shit when I’m inside of you,” he groans, dropping his forehead to mine.
“I have to tell you something, but please don’t be mad.”
“Christ, what now?” He pulls back, gritting his teeth.
“Stop being a jerk and let me talk.” I smack his shoulder and he looks down at me, thrusting in another inch.
“Never mind. I don’t want to know.”
“What?” I moan, wrapping my legs around his hips as he slides in a little more.
“If it’s going to piss me off, I don’t want to know.” He slides out then back in, and my back arches off the bed as his thick cock fills every inch of me.
“You’re such a dick!” I cry out as he tosses my leg over his shoulder, changing the angle of his thrust.
“I don’t give a fuck about that either.” He drops his mouth, covering mine and stealing my reply—not that I have time to think about that as his mouth leisurely travels down my neck to my breast, which he pulls and sucks until I’m once again shouting his name and hearing mine groaned from his lips as we both come.
“Ash, we need to get up. We’ve already missed the conference this morning, and I have to speak in two hours at the next one.”
“You have to speak, not me.” I pull the pillow over my head in an attempt to drown him out, along with the fact I married and slept with him then spent the last two hours cuddled into his chest like a damn puppy.
“You’re coming with.”
“I’m not.” I roll to my stomach.
“You are.” He tugs the pillow away then rolls me to my back, looming over me. “What do you want for breakfast? I’ll order up, and we’ll eat before we go down.”
Okay, this is getting really weird, and I wonder if he didn’t get a concussion at some point last night. “I think we need to talk about what happened, about what we’re going to do.”
“Not this again.” He sighs, looking over my head.
“It’s kinda a big deal!” I cry, and his hand slides between my legs, cupping me.
“We got married, consummated that marriage, and now we need to get to work. If we didn’t have to deal with work shit, we would spend the rest of the weekend in this bed.”
Feeling my eyes grow wide, I breathe, “You’ve lost it, totally lost it.”
“Tell me that you haven’t been feeling this pull between us. Tell me that I’m the only one who feels this, and I’ll get up and walk away. I’ll even call a lawyer myself and have our marriage dissolved by tomorrow.”
Oh, God, I want to tell him that I haven’t felt it, that I don’t know what he’s talking about, but I do. I’ve felt it since the moment we met. A pull toward him, like the universe had tied a string between us, linking us together. But I never knew he felt it. “You can’t. I know you can’t, because it’s been there since the beginning.”
“We got married. Married. That’s more than us just dating and seeing how things go, Dillon.”
“Yep, and now it will take a lot more than you just walking away to get rid of me.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” I frown.
“You date all the damn time, baby. I’ve seen you run men off for not wearing the proper socks or for parting their hair the wrong way.”
“Excuse me?” I have never done that, not once. Okay, yes, I’m a little picky, but what woman isn’t?
“Just saying, it will be a lot harder for you to drop me, now that you have my last name.”
“You’re crazy,” I breathe, and his face moves close enough that his lips brush mine.
“No, I’ve finally got you where I want you.” He grins, and my heart rate speeds up.
“Fine, if you want to see how this goes, I’m going to pretend like we didn’t get married and that we are just dating.”
“We are married.”
“Not in my head we’re not,” I grouch, and his nostrils flare. “I’d like to remind you that you think I’m crazy and don’t even really like me.” I know I drive him nuts, and that he thinks I’m off my rocker most days, so I don’t understand why he wants to stay married, or why he even married me to begin with. That memory is still fuzzy, but I swear he is the one who insisted we tie the knot after I made a joke about us getting married.
“Oh, I definitely like you.” His finger flicks my clit as his mouth touches mine. “Now, what do you want for breakfast?”
Rubbing my hands down my face in frustration, I mutter, “Pancakes, bacon, and eggs. And coffee, the largest pot they have.”
“Got it.” His fingers slide away and his mouth touches my shoulder before I feel him exit the bed. Pulling my hands from my face, I watch him move across the room to the phone and place the order for our food before he walks to the dresser and opens it, pulling out a pair of boxers.
“No one is supposed to use those dressers,” I inform him, sitting up and noticing his suitcase is nowhere in sight, while mine is still open on the floor in the middle of the room with items scattered out around it.
“Pardon?” His eyes come to me then drop to my breast. Rolling my eyes, I tuck the sheet under my arms and nod toward the dresser.
“No one folds their clothes and puts them away in those dressers when they are on a vacation or a trip. Everyone lives out of their suitcase.”
“Says who?”
“I don’t know, everyone.”
Grinning, like he thinks I’m cute, he opens another drawer and pulls out a shirt then steps toward the bed. “You wanna shower with me?”
“No.” I shake my head, even though I really do want to. “I told you, from this moment on, we are just dating. So no more naked anything, and definitely no showering together.”
“If you say so.” He walks to the bathroom, the mirror on the wall across the hall from him allowing me to continue watching him until I get annoyed with myself and pull the pillow from the bed next to me, put it to my face, and scream. Swearing I hear him laugh as I do.
Chapter 2
Ashlyn
“Baby, plane’s landing,” Dillon says into my ear, and my eyes slowly open as my head lifts off his shoulder, where it dropped as soon as the plane left the ground. Putting my feet to the floor, I look around the first class section, watching the flight attendant pick up empty glasses and trash.
“I missed the champagne,” I complain, looking at Dillon. “I told you to wake me up for that part.”
“You were tired. You needed sleep. You can have champagne at home.”
My nose scrunches and I make a gross face, gagging, and mutter, “Ewww no, I hate champagne.”
Chuckling, he leans toward me. “Then why’d you want to drink it now?”
“’Cause we’re in first class. I wanted the full experience.” I shrug. I’ve never flown first class, and I’ve always wondered what it would be like. It’s honestly no different, just bigger seats. Well, plus free champagne, which I didn’t have.
“You’re a nut.”
“Stop calling me that,” I say for the billionth time, glaring at him.
“A cute nut.” He leans in, kissing the side of my mouth, then runs his fingers down my cheek and I see his wedding band sitting at the base of his finger, which makes my stomach turn. The weekend went by in a flash. Between conferences and dinners, there wasn’t a lot of time to think about the fact we are now married. Well… there was time to think about it, because he insisted on introducing me as his wife to anyone and everyone, which completely freaked me out.
“Where are we sleeping tonight?” he asks, dragging me out of my head. I pull my eyes from his ring and lean down, picking up my bag from the floor, pretending I didn’t hear his question. “Ashlyn.” His hand moves to my denim-covered thigh, squeezing.
“Hm?” I pull out my compact and flip it open.
“I know you heard my que
stion. Where are we sleeping? Your place or mine?”
“You’re sleeping at your place and I’m sleeping at mine,” I mutter, pulling out my chapstick, only to have it snatched out of my hand. My eyes fly to his and I swallow when I see the look he’s giving me. I tried over the last three days to insist we sleep in different beds. That didn’t happen. He would join me in mine or drag me to his, each and every time. And each and every time, I put up a fight, knowing I would lose.
Okay, so I may not have fought that hard.
There was something about sleeping next to him that made me feel oddly whole—something I liked a little too much, if I was honest with myself.
“Fine, we’re staying at my house.” He sits back, buckling his seatbelt.
“No.” I shake my head. “No way am I staying at a house that you bought for another woman. No freaking way.” I snap my compact closed and toss it in my bag.
“I did not fucking buy that house for her,” he growls, setting my teeth on edge.
“I can’t do this.” I shake my head; even the thought of her makes me mental, makes me want to kill someone, mainly him, because he is the one who was engaged to the woman—a woman I’m almost positive has the devil inside of her.
“You’re very wrong, wife. We’re already doing this.”
“Dillon.” I soften my voice, leaning closer. “We each need some time to think about this, to really think about what it is we’re doing. Maybe having a night apart—”
“Not happening.” He cuts me off with a shake of his head then leans across me, pulling my seatbelt over my lap and locking it.
“Yes it is.” I smack his hands away.
“It most definitely is not.” He tags the back of my neck, pulls me close, and kisses me until my body melts into his. “We’ll stay at your place,” he whispers against my lips, and my eyes flutter open.
“You’re so annoying,” I breathe, seeing him smile before he lets me go and grabs my hand, holding it tight until we’ve landed, and then keeps ahold of it until he’s forced to release me so he can carry our bags.
“A limo, seriously?” I roll my eyes when I realize what car he’s leading me to.
“It’s just a car, baby.”
“No, a car is just a car. This is a limo, there are only two of us. We should have used my Uber. It would have cost a whole lot less,” I mutter to his back as he drags our suitcases behind him toward the driver.
“Maybe they have champagne inside.” He grins at me over his shoulder, and I don’t want to think he’s funny, but I find myself smiling back at him anyway.
“You went to Vegas single and came back married.” Our driver, who apparently knows Dillon, laughs, giving him a handshake and a pat on the back. My breath freezes in my lungs and the sound of their voices fades away.
Yes, we have been married for three days and sixteen hours, but it felt different when we were in Vegas. It felt, almost unreal. But now we’re back in Tennessee. Tennessee… where my family lives. Tennessee… where my dad, who owns a plethora of guns, lives. Tennessee… where no one knows about our marriage, but where my very nosey family all resides and is liable to find out. I know my mom is already wondering what’s going on. Dillon had a phone delivered to me at the hotel the afternoon we woke up married so I have been able to talk to her everyday as promised, and she knows Dillon and I were sharing a room, since Dillon wouldn’t keep his hands off me or mouth closed when I was on the phone her.
“Baby.” Coming out of my daze, I blink as his hand comes to rest against my cheek. “Hey,” his face dips closer and his eyes search mine, “are you okay?”
“How am I going to tell my family about this?” I hold up my hand and point at my ring, which I took off once, only to have it shoved right back on my finger with a growl telling me not to take it off ever again.
His face softens and his hand slides around the back of my neck. “We’ll tell them together.”
“My dad owns guns, lots and lots of guns. This isn’t going to end well for you.”
“It will be okay.”
“I think something happened to you. I’m pretty sure you’ve lost your mind.” I start to panic as visions of him being chased by my dad, wielding a shotgun, flash through my mind.
“Stop worrying. It will work out.”
“It won’t.”
“It will, trust me.”
Snorting, I mutter, “Last time I trusted you, we ended up married.”
“Well, that can’t happen again, now can it?” He smiles smugly, and I let out a huff.
“At least there’s that.” Chuckling, he takes my hand and helps me into the back seat then gets in behind me as I move to sit across from him.
“Come over here.” He pats the seat next to him as the driver shuts the door.
“Why?”
“I want to tell you something.”
“You can tell me from here.”
“Come here,” he repeats, and I raise a brow then squeak when he leans forward, wraps his hands around my waist, and drags me to straddle him.
“Dillon!” I snap, and his hands slide up under my shirt, causing goose bumps to break out across my skin and butterflies to dance in my stomach.
“You’re so damn beautiful,” he mumbles, and I still while one of his hands slides farther up the back of my shirt and the other moves to rest on the underside of my jaw. “Far too perfect to be real. I thought that since the moment I first saw you.”
“You did?” I question, leaning forward, lost in the look in his eyes and his softly spoken words.
“I did,” he confirms, sliding his fingers through the hair at the back of my head, pulling me closer. “I didn’t know all of you then. I had no idea how damn smart you are, how funny you are, how caring and compassionate—”
“You forgot crazy,” I whisper, cutting him off, and he smiles.
“Crazy, so damn crazy.” He closes the minute distance between us, kissing me gently then pulling back.
“I didn’t know you even liked me,” I tell him, running my fingers through his hair, and his body stiffens. “Dillon.”
“I couldn’t tell you. I needed to take care of a few things before I even attempted to get into your head.”
“What?” I lean back, and his hands move to my waist, holding tight.
“Isla and me, there’s—”
“Nope.” I attempt to struggle free, but his grip tightens. “Let me go.”
“Never,” he growls, pulling me closer.
“Dillon.”
“I won’t talk about her now, but we will be talking about her. You need to understand.”
“I really don’t,” I hiss, grabbing his hands and trying to pry them off of me. “I don’t want to talk about her—not now, not ever. She’s… she’s evil.”
“Calm.”
“You calm! You were engaged to her, were going to marry her,” I taunt, tugging at his hands.
“I wasn’t.”
“Oh, my God,” I growl, leaning as far back as I can go. “Do you know how often she flashed that obnoxious ring in front of my face? How often she reiterated that you were hers to me? Like… like I wanted you!”
“You did want me,” he whispers, and my hands move to his shirt, where I grab on with both fists and lean close until my face is an inch from his.
“Do not do that. Do not even say that. Never in a billion fricking years would I ever approach a man who I knew was married, engaged, or had a girlfriend.” I pull him forward, hissing, “Never. Even if I was attracted to you, I would never ever go there. Not ever.” I let him go then move quickly off his lap. “I’m not a slut, a whore, or a home-wrecker.” I hold his stare. “And until you,” I point at his chest, “I had never even been with a man, so put that in your pipe and fucking smoke it!” I yell, dropping to the seat behind me, feeling my chest heave, completely missing the look of shock and satisfaction on his face.
“Baby.”
“No, do not ‘baby’ me, and do not come near me.” I hold ou
t my hand when he starts to sit forward. “I swear I will take out your eyes if you touch me.” Pressing his lips together, I can tell he’s trying not to laugh and that he thinks I’m funny, but I’m dead serious. “I can’t believe I’m fricking married to you.”
“Believe it,” he barks, pushing up the sleeves of his navy blue Henley up to his elbows. “We’re married, baby, and you better get use to the idea, ’cause that shit is not changing. Ever.”
“You’re not letting me go, blah blah blah… You’ve said it before.” I roll my eyes, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Glad you’re starting to understand.” He leans forward, and I brace myself. “And just so we’re clear and you understand completely, you sealed your fate. You’re mine. That brain of yours is mine. Your body is mine. And,” he growls, leaning closer, “that pussy only I’ve had is fucking mine. You’ve been mine for a long fucking time, baby. You just didn’t know it.”
“And you think I’m the crazy one,” I mutter, turning my head to look out the window.
Feeling his hand on my thigh, my eyes fly to him. “Our pasts do not have one goddamn thing to do with what is going on between us now, and one day, when you’re ready to listen, I’ll explain things.”
“Sure.” I shake my head, pushing his hand away and turning my eyes back to the window.
“Jesus, you’re a pain in the ass.”
“And you’re a dick,” I mumble to the glass, resting my forehead against it, lifting it only to turn and glare at him twenty minutes later when I see where we’re headed.
“I told you I’m not staying at your house,” I hiss as soon as I see the limo turn down the long driveway that leads to his place. I wouldn’t even call his house a house; it’s a mansion, one of the only ones in town. The size of it is ridiculous for just one, or even two people to live in. It has to be over eight thousand square feet with upper and lower balconies, giant pillars in the front, along with a fountain in the circular driveway. Who the hell has a fountain outside their house unless they are the fricking Kardashians or the Fresh Prince of Bellaire?
“We’re getting my car, and I need to get some clothes,” he says while pulling out his cell phone, typing something on the screen that makes the whole house light up, inside and out, as we park out front.