My Dark Romeo: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance(48)

When Shep had told me his daughter was irresistible, I’d wanted to chuckle. Now I was more worried than amused.

“Can’t you see? Me being drunk is the best thing that could happen to us.” She slapped her hands over my chest. “Let’s have sex. I won’t even mind that it’s with you. And I’ve been wanting to lose my V-card for a while.”

Now wasn’t the time to tell her that her V-card would be wasted on my fingers—or my tongue, if I was feeling charitable.

“Evacuate my lap.”

Usually, I got off on being in complete and meticulous control. But with Dallas, for a reason unfathomable to yours truly, it felt like a burden to stay in character.

She dragged her pussy—clothed only with a flimsy thong—along my crotch.

Of course, I was hard.

All she needed was to exist in the same state as me to make my blood migrate to my dick.

She rolled her hips, her slit dragging across the length of my cock again. “Why should I listen to you when you never listen to me?”

My jaw flexed. “Because I’m very close to obtaining an annulment and sending you back to Chapel Falls to be married off to a farm boy.”

She smacked my chest again. “Take advantage of me, goddammit.”

I wanted to grab the back of her neck, and kiss the shit out of her, and fuck her through our clothes until she orgasmed hard enough to scream.

Until she lost her voice.

To then guide her down between my thighs and come on that elegant upturned nose, youthful freckles, and big Disney-animal eyes.

But I didn’t have it in me to do something she might regret later. Though I couldn’t be accused of ever being in the same zip code as chivalry, dubious consent was where I drew the line.

Especially when it was pitifully obvious that I’d have her on my terms sooner rather than later.

I was about to wrestle her to the sofa when she fell face-first into the crook of my neck. “If you’re planning to suck my blood—”

A soft snore broke through my unfinished threat.

Then I felt her drool. On my neck.

Jesus Christ.

She’d fallen asleep on me. With my hard-on still nestled between her legs.

The smart thing to do would be to put her on the couch and get back to my business.

I was going to do it, too.

Stand up and rid myself of her.

Only, I didn’t.

Perhaps because I couldn’t risk her stirring awake and launching into another episode of verbal diarrhea.

Or maybe because it wasn’t the worst thing in the world to feel her pussy radiating warmth straight into my dick.

Whatever the reason, I let her sleep on me.

Reading the Wall Street Journal and thanking my unlucky stars that, at the very least, Zach and Oliver weren’t here to give me shit about how undomesticated my new wife was.

I’d tame her, all right.

After all—I’d already caged her.





Four hours later, the lull of sanity came to an abrupt end.

Shortbread was awake and quite sober, judging by the time it took her to tumble to the carpet in a panic, kicking my shins as she realized she’d slept on top of me.

“Get off me,” she roared from her place on the floor.

I flipped another page of my newspaper. I’d been reading the same article for approximately three months. It was hard to concentrate with her pressed against my cock.

I normally prided myself on being immune to women’s charms. Then again, it had been a while since I spent so much time next to a gorgeous one.

“I was never on top of you.”

And never would be, for that matter.

Shortbread frowned, crossed her ankles, then slapped her forehead. The memories of the last twelve hours must’ve rushed through her system.

I hoped she remembered everything.

That we were now legally married.

That she’d drunk enough to fill a bathtub.

That she’d vomited on everything but the plane’s wings, propositioned me with the finesse of a telemarketer, then passed out on top of me.

“I think I’m going to throw up again just from the memory of rubbing myself against you.” She covered her mouth, visibly shivering. “I hope I didn’t catch an STD from my proximity to you.”

“Say all your prayers tonight, and I might just spare you my genital warts.”

I yawned, though internally, I itched to yell at her that, if she was so worried about sexually transmitted diseases, she should be thankful she didn’t end up with Madison A Pack of Condoms A Night Licht.

The man had enough notches on his belt to make a pasta sieve.

She eyed me with disbelief. “Be serious. Have you checked lately?”

“No. But I haven’t been sexually active recently, either.”

She paused, frowning at me. “You haven’t?”

I shook my head, unsure why I’d chosen to explain myself to this utter hot mess of a human.

“Not even Morgan?”

Especially not Morgan.

I wouldn’t touch Morgan if the world ran out of women and the two of us had to repopulate it. Civilization had a good run, and frankly, it blew it.

“No one.”

The wheels began churning in that pretty head of hers, but I didn’t care enough to wonder what she was thinking. Whatever it was, suffice to say I’d be in complete disagreement with it.