Shotgun Wedding: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (8 page)

It probably has its own zip code.

There are
four
shower heads jutting out of the walls.

"What the hell," I say to all the gleaming appliances. Suddenly nothing sounds better than a blazing hot, overly excessive shower. Except, of course, for the enormous, blindingly white, freestanding bathtub that has
its
own alcove.

The tub is huge. Big enough for even Gray to spread out in. The image of a naked, wet Grayson messes with my head more than the remnants of last night's shots.

I'll decide to take a quick shower and
not
think about Gray standing in this tiled room, soaping up his gargantuan chest or arms…or other gargantuan body parts.

I pull my tee off and drop it on the floor, kick my panties against the wall, and make a face at myself in the mirror: I
look
like I've been kidnapped by the mob, for sure.

And then (after, admittedly, taking two minutes to figure out how to turn on the dang water), I am in heaven. I'm not saying this shower is a reason to stay married to Grayson, but good grief, it's tempting.

"Flipping rich people," I whisper, opening and sniffing one of Gray's bottles of shampoo. It smells
divine
, like bathing in mint and manliness all at once. I lather up and hum
I'm Every Woman
and step directly under one of the showerheads. There's hot water above me, on my back, steam filling the room. I can feel yesterday's stress being washed away.

"Oh, I could get used to this," I mutter, my eyes closed, throwing my head back and letting my hair stream down my naked back.

"Good," a deep voice says behind me.

K
at lets
out a yelp and whirls around to face me. If I thought her ass looked great wet and naked, well, holy shit. For one second I see paradise—her full breasts, the gentle curve of her stomach and hips, the dark patch of hair between her legs. All of it wet and gleaming and waiting for me.

She stares at me in shock for one second, then whirls around, pressing her front side to the shower wall.

"Gray! What are you
doing
here?"

I can't help but smile. I also can't help but take a step forward, until I'm right behind her luscious, full body.

"Well," I say, running my hands over her shoulders. "I live here."

"No, I mean, what are you doing
in the shower
.
With me
."

Her skin is so soft and so hot. I can't tell if she's on fire from the water flowing all around us, or if it's just me, reacting to her touch.

I can't stop myself. I trace the fine line of her shoulder, down her arm. She's pressed both hands up against the tiled wall, like she's trying to hide her breasts.

"I went out to get you coffee." I put my face into the crook of her shoulder, breathing in her clean, sweet scent mixed with my shampoo. She shivers. It's taking everything in me not to let myself taste her, see what her skin tastes like when it's wet and overheated.

Fuck it. I kiss her, once, slowly, in the sweet spot where her neck meets her shoulder. I open my mouth and suck, just slightly. She tastes fucking delicious.

"That's…nice," Kat says. Her body was locked and rigid, but at my touch she's loosening up. For a moment her head lolls slightly to the side, to give me more access. Then she remembers herself and straightens again. "The—the coffee is nice, I mean. But I think I'll save it for after my shower."

"Mmm." I don't say anything, just move my hands down her arms, then up to meet her hands where they're still locked against the wall. I slide my hands over hers; damn, she's so small, so fragile.

I press against her, finally letting my hard-on nestle into the sweet curve of her ass.

"Gray," Kat says. Her voice is slow, smoky. Steam swirls all around us, making the rest of the room—the rest of the world—fucking disappear.

"Yeah, babes?"

"What are you doing?"

She still hasn't moved. She's standing there, locked and quivering.

"Kissing my wife good morning." I curl my fingers so they lock with hers, then pull her back and away from the wall. Back and into my arms. Now her ass is right where I want it, tight against me. I wrap my arms down and around her, her breasts resting on my forearm, her head leaning back against my chest. From this angle, I can just see the side of her flushed face, her cheeks rosy and her long, dark hair curling in tendrils all over her body. And my body. One wet, black curl lands on my tattoo. I suddenly realize the ink matches her hair, exactly.

Kat swallows. She's breathing fast, and I can feel her heartbeat against my forearm. It's beating like she's just run a marathon.

I didn't think it was possible for me to get any fucking harder, but here I am. I could hammer nails with this shit.

"Gray, I don't think this is a good idea."

I freeze, though I can't quite bring myself to stop touching her, holding her.

"Why not?" I finally ask. My voice is thick with need.

Of course, I'd told myself the same thing, not five minutes before.

"I woke up in your bed, Gray. What the hell was that about?"

Last night, I'd discovered my sweet little wife, passed out next to a nearly empty bottle of vodka. She'd been wearing nothing but her little white T-shirt and simple white panties, a look which would now figure prominently in all my masturbatory fantasies for the rest of my life.

She'd left all the lights on.

I'd carefully tucked her in to the guest bed, turned off all the lights, and passed out around 4 a.m.

And then I'd heard the blood-curdling scream.

I didn't think I could move so fast, but I was in Kat's bedroom before I was fully awake, ready to fucking rip whatever was hurting her apart.

And then I realized it was all in her head. She was still half-asleep, having a night terror, screaming bloody murder. Dacko had come racing in to find me holding her shoulders and shouting her name. Her eyes were open but she wasn't awake.

She let me touch her, but would then look behind me and scream her head off.

I'd shouted at her to wake up, but Dacko, superstitious as fuck, had said, "Bad luck to wake a dreamer,
pakhan
."

So he'd gone back outside and I'd scooped her up, taken her into my bed. She'd finally calmed down, my arms wrapped around her, my heart aching because as much as I wanted to protect her from everything in this goddamn world…I was completely helpless at that moment.

"You had a bad dream," I say slowly. "A real bad one."

Kat bites that lush lower lip of hers. "Did I scream?"

I bury my face in her neck. She smells like my body wash, but the best part is just the sweet scent of
her
, underneath. "Yeah, babes. I couldn't get you to stop."

And then, she fucking pats my arm. She comforts
me
.

"Don't worry," she whispers. "It happens sometimes."

I squeeze tight until she groans and slaps me.

"Sorry," I say. "I don't like…not being able to make you happy."

"Oh, Gray." She finally leans back against me, the water beating down on us, a cloud of steam surrounding us.

I can't believe I'm holding her, finally fucking touching her. She's more beautiful than I'd imagined.

I'd watched her for hours last night.

A gentleman would have slept on the couch.

But I'm no gentleman.

Not that I touched her once I took her to my bed. But I did look. Listen to her slow, steady breathing. When she rolled into me in the middle of the night, I'd put my arm around her. I'd held her close.

I was hard as bricks the entire night. Around seven this morning, I'd gone out for a morning run along the Hudson, then picked up three kinds of coffee because I realized I didn't know how she took hers.

I'd come back into the silent apartment, and for a moment I'd panicked. Where was she? I went straight to the bedroom, but all I saw were rumpled sheets and an empty room.

Had she left me? Slipped past Dacko somehow?

Was she in danger?

Then I'd heard the shower. The utter relief, that she was still here. The sense of me being able to
breathe
again. It was terrifying. It was exhilarating.

It was undeniable.

I told myself she was fine, that I didn't need to check on her.

But still, I opened the bathroom door, the room full of steam, her, gorgeous curved, naked body appearing like a nymph out of the ether.

This isn't a good idea
, I'd thought. And taken a step forward.

No, it's a great idea. It's the best idea I've ever had.

My big head warred with my little one. For a second. Then I'd stripped, leaving my workout clothes on the floor where Kat had tossed her t-shirt and little black panties.

God, she was a little messy thing.

I'd watched as she'd thrown her head back, her pink lips open, her cheeks tinged a beautiful shade of rose. I'd found myself walking toward her.

And now I could finally touch her. Feel her soft, wet skin.

See if I could make her even wetter.

"Why isn't this a good idea?" I ask again.

"Because we're not really married," she says. "And because—because this is all temporary. I don't even know where you've
been
. I don't know what you do. You show up, you beat people up, you walk me down the aisle…"

Kat turns in my arms, and suddenly I'm face-to-face with her beautiful green eyes. She's frowning.

It takes all I have not to look down at her tits.

"We know each other. We care about each other."
Do not look at her breasts, do not look at her heaving chest
. "And we
are
really fucking married."

Kat growls and puts her hands on her hips. Goddamn, the woman has curves for miles.

"We do
not
know each other! I mean, I can't believe you even
said
that. You don't know shit about me."

"We grew up together, don't give me that shit. And I know I want you," I growl. Okay, fuck, I look down. Her nipples are pink, pert, upright. And it isn't from the damn cold, because the room is blazing-hot.

So is she.

So am I.

"And I know you want me." I take a chance, take a step toward her.

She shivers, but meets my eyes. Licks her lips.

Fuck.

"So what?" Kat says. "Fine, I admit it. You're hot. You're covered in—" She waves her hand up and down my body, clearly avoiding looking at my raging hard-on. "Tattoos. And muscles. And you have more abs than are probably legal. But I'm not having sex with you. I don't just sleep around."

"Good," I say, and I can't hold back any longer. My vows of keeping her at arm's length are fading into the mist. I can't even remember why I thought that was a good idea—how I even thought that would be
possible
. "Because if I found out you have a boyfriend, I'd have to kill him."

"Don't say shit like that, Gray." Kat shakes her head at me. "I can't tell if you're serious or not."

I take one more step, and we're pressed against each other.

"I'm dead serious," I tease. She must hear the smile in my voice, because she smiles up at me. "And aren't
sleeping
right now, sweetheart."

I press against her, our wet skin sticking, then sliding, then sticking together.

"I'm not having sex with you," Kat says.

"Fine." I tilt her face up toward me. I want to kiss every freckle on her beautiful face, her body. "I'll just wash your back. Maybe a few other places. Would that be so bad?"

Kat swallows. She wants me, I know it.

"I'm just scared," Kat whispers.

"Of what, babes?" I kiss her lightly on the edge of her lips, first the right side, then the left.

"You," she says.

I stare into her green eyes. "I'd never hurt you, Kat. On my honor, all I've ever wanted was to protect you."

"Right." She bites her lip again. "You always protected me, when we were little. But Gray—it's one thing for you to marry me to protect me. But it's another if we become intimate. I don't think—I'm not the kind of woman who can keep her heart separate from…things."

"Are you saying you don't want to have sex right now?" I pull her closer, her tits sliding against my chest. Her breath catches.

"I don't think it would be a good idea," she says.

"No problem," I say, dropping to my knees. "I'll just make you come. Two or three times."

T
his is not
how I imagined our conversation ending.

But Gray is on his knees, his massive hands grabbing my ass, and he's pressing his face directly into the space between my legs.

How is a girl supposed to argue at a time like this?

"Little Kat, do you know how long I've wanted to do this?"

I moan, because I'm beyond words. I've wanted this
forever
. I've wanted any part of Gray forever—and now he's offering me, if not everything—quite an eyeful.

And it would help him trust you
, some devious little voice inside me says.

But I know that inner voice; she's not being devious because she wants to trick Gray. She'd say
anything
to trick me into falling into bed with him.

He spreads my lips, glances up at me just for one quick second, and I see he's smiling.

And it's getting harder and harder not to listen to my horny, infatuated, and formerly repressed inner sex demon.

And then Gray licks me, just once, one long, slow stroke. And then he smiles again and just leans in and
inhales
.

"Oh God," I say.

He's so beautiful, his dirty blonde hair darker when wet. His chest, sweet Jesus save me, feels as broad as a house, and there's not an ounce of fat on him anywhere.

And I wasn't kidding about his abs. He's got more than a six-pack. He's got an eight-pack. A dozen? And his cock. I mean,
what
. I am pretty sure I blacked out once I saw it, proud and pointing straight up at me, and bigger than anything I'd ever seen outside of the pornos Elle plays on her phone when she gets tipsy and bored at parties.

And his tattoos. I could almost—
almost
—be content to just stand in a shower and examine the black ink that covers the left half of his chest. Over his left pectoral is a tree, and its roots and branches flow and flourish all the way up and onto his neck.

At least, I thought I could be content just looking at him.

And then he'd touched me.

"This isn't happening," I whisper.

"This is
so
fucking happening," Gray says back. At least, I think that's what he says. It's hard to make out, because he parts my lips and suddenly buries his face between my legs.

I cry out. It's a happy animal sound I don't think I've ever made before.

Gray's hands are strong, large, calloused. And they know what the hell they are doing. He slowly peels open my lips, and then his hot, surprisingly strong tongue begins teasing me. Long, slow, greedy licks, tracing and tasting as much of me as he can reach, with this awkward position.

I can't keep my hips still.

"Gray," I moan. He answers with a growl, and then he finds my clit. Oh my God. My head falls back and my own breathing sounds strange and foreign and loud. I've never let a man do this to me.
Why haven't I ever let a man do this to me
?

Because it wasn't Gray.

And, for me, it was Gray all along.

I was kidding myself. I can't hold back from him. And in the heat of the moment, it seems insane to even try.

He begins to work my clit over, sucking it between his teeth, pulling all the blood in my body down to where he is tasting me, pulling all the thoughts from my head.

"That's it, sweetheart. Move your hips for me."

I realize I'm thrusting, slightly but wantonly. Gray looks up for a moment, the hard planes of his face wet in the shower spray, his eyes molten steel.

"Goddamn, Katya, you're so fucking hot." He grabs my ass with one hand, holding me, locked against him. With his other hand he finds my clit, watching my face while he rubs in slow, strong circles. I gasp as I feel a rush of warmth between my legs.

"You taste so fucking good," he says, putting his nose between my legs, then working my over with his tongue
and
his fingers.

"Gray, I can't—I can't stand anymore," I cry out. I can feel the pressure building inside me, my orgasm on the horizon but still elusive.

Gray stands suddenly, grabbing my waist and pulling me to him. His kiss is rough, brutal, and I love it. I grab his hair, pulling him closer to me. Closer still. His tongue is inside me, all over me. I can taste myself on his kiss.

"Fall," Gray order. "I've got you."

He whirls me around, so my back is pressed to his front. One of his arms locks around my middle, not hurting me, just holding me up. His other hand goes to work between my legs, expertly finding my center and rubbing, faster and faster. He bends down and whispers in my ear, his short beard rubbing against my cheek.

Everything burns so beautifully.

"I missed you, Kat, I missed you so goddamn much."

I whimper and reach an arm up, blindly, to grab his neck. I'm beyond shame now, thrusting and trying to find my release.

"That's it, sweetheart, ride my hand. Ride my fucking hand."

At his dirty words, I can't help it—I do. With a cry I work my hips faster, his fingers slipping around and then, suddenly, inside of me.

I yelp and freeze. Can he tell I'm a virgin?

"Shhh," Gray whispers. And suddenly he's thrusting with one long, strong finger, slowly filling me. "Shit, sweetheart, you're so hot and so tight." He moves his hips behind me, and I can feel his cock pressed so hard against me I bet it'll leave an impression.

I love that idea.

"Oh Gray, oh don’t stop," I say.

And then he…does?

"What?" I gasp. That's when he grabs me, lifts me up in his arms, and carries me out of the bathroom. "What are you doing!"

"The first time my girl comes, I want to see her face," is all he says by way of explanation.

Gray carries me effortlessly into the bedroom, both of us dripping wet. He throws me onto his bed and then crawls over me, wet and naked and gorgeous, so that he's right on top of me.

"Spread your legs," he growls.

"I'm not—I don't want to—"

"I'm not fucking you, Kat. But I want those legs locked around my waist for one minute, so I can imagine what it will feel like when I wake up one day, with you naked next to me, and I roll over on top of you before I slide inside your tight, wet, hot pussy."

"Oh." That didn't sound so bad.

And then he's on me, and I wrap my legs around him. His cock nestles onto my stomach, and Gray somehow holds most of his weight off of me, while at the same time leaning down, cocooning me with his beautiful beast of a body, and kissing me senseless.

I'm just about to say, screw it—no, screw
me
—when he rolls to the side, slides an arm under my neck, and looks at me. He's here, so close to me. I reach up and trace his jawline, the thick stubble grabbing at my fingertips. At my touch, he closes his eyes. For just a moment.

He looks like he's in pain.

Or maybe it's pleasure.

Everything's running together.

Gray opens his eyes and kisses me while his free hand traces my nipples, moving from my left breast to my right, and back again. I'm shivering, and it's not because I'm cold.

He leaves a trail of goosebumps as he moves his hand lower, lower, lower. He finds my clit like it's a beacon, a magnet. He works it perfectly, slowly, until I'm writhing in his arms, breathing heavily, our mouths open, our lips touching. We're not quite kissing; we're just breathing each other in, teasing each other with our hands and our lips and our tongues and our very breath.

I don't know what to do with my hands, or my heart. Thankfully Gray takes the lead. His fingers keep spinning, spinning, keeping me on edge, bringing me closer and closer to orgasm, but just as I'm
almost there
, he draws back. He laughs as I growl, frustrated, then begins slowing pumping one finger in and out of me.

Oh God. I hadn't ever really done much to discover my g-spot. But, but, I think Gray has done some research on the subject.

"Gray," I moan. "Gray, I want—I need—"

"Tell me what you need," he says, before bending down and kissing my breasts, taking one nipple into his mouth and sucking, hard. I gasp and grab at his back, his massive biceps. I'm writhing, mindless.

"Gray. You," I cry. "I need you!"

"I'm going to kiss you and finger you until you come, Kat." Gray's voice is strained, and I reach down between us. His cock is massive, resting on my thigh. It feels so soft on the outside, yet solid, like heated steel.

"You're so hard," I say, wonderingly.

Gray laughs, a short, tense sound. "Sweetheart, I could pound railroad ties with this thing. But right now—for now—all I want is us, face-to-face, when you come. Keep your mouth right like this, right next to mine."

He makes faster, harder movements between my legs. Inside me. I'm so close I can barely keep my eyes open, barely pay attention to his words.

"I'm going to tell you to come, now, sweet Kat. And when you do, I want you to say my name. Call out my name, cling to me. I want that sweet sound all over me, just like your sweet juices are coating my motherfucking hand."

"Oh God," I moan.

And then Gray moves his thumb on my clit, and hits just the right spot inside me, and I fly apart, a wave of heat and pleasure almost blinding me. I can't see, I can't think.

But I cling to the rock that is Gray, and I pant his name, over and over and over again.

"Fuck." I feel Gray's beard against my neck, his lips on me, kissing, sucking. His hips buck wildly against my side. "That was perfect, sweetheart. That was perfect, you're perfect."

I open my eyes and my whole world is right there, in his shining eyes, in his arms. And then Gray smiles, and that's what does it. That's what really takes me breath away.

It's like he's wide-open, he's here, he's not hiding. He's not running.

And neither am I.

I smile back.

"That was perfect, Katya. Now we'll do it again."