her wedding band what must be a thousand times, as though imprinting the engraving of our three names on his sense memory permanently.
I never thought we'd all bind ourselves together in this way. There's a part of me that's angry we can't just be open about it, that society is structured in such a prudish bullshit way. Why should only one of us get to call Livia our wife out in the open? Why should only one of us get to entangle ourselves and our relationship unnecessarily with the state and wear a shiny ring to tell the world of our love?
I'm not sure if we can call it love, not the way we did this. But I would do it again. Exactly. Like. This.
Livia is mine. She is ours. And I don't care what the fuck that says about me. No one says no to me, least of all, Livia Fairchild, our new toy, the girl who played with fire and lost.
Pachelbel's Canon in D begins. The guests stand, and Livia begins to walk down the aisle to lock herself formally into this unholy union with us. She looks like she might bolt at any moment, and I swear if she runs, I will chase her down like a fucking lion, pin her to the ground, and fuck her breathless in the open air in front of anyone who dares to follow us outside. She better hope she doesn't run from me.
The animal inside is close at the surface. Right now she is the most gorgeous creature I've ever seen, and I would move heaven and earth, break every law and rule of polite society to have her, to claim her, to sear her soul to mine in the most permanent and brutal way.
When she reaches me, I see the fear in her eyes and something dark inside me calms in response to it. Anyone else would think this is just wedding day nerves, but I know it's more. She glances over to Griffin and Dayne so briefly no one but me could have possibly noticed. I'm not even sure she realizes she did it.
I take her hand and help her up the two small steps. I hold her gaze in mine, drinking in her fear and uncertainty, imagining all the ways I'm going to break her, ruin her, destroy her, remake her, rebuild her, cherish her, punish her, and worship her.
I stroke the back of her hand, reassuring myself that she is real, she's standing here, she's not going anywhere. Everything has gone exactly to my plan, and I am finally claiming my prize. We're all finally claiming her.
I don't hear a single word the priest says, though I somehow manage to hear Livia's soft voice as she promises to honor and obey me. I swear an audible gasp rises from the assembled witnesses, and I am filled with a visceral, male pride at these words I've somehow managed to get her to say in front of so many people.
There's an exhibitionism in these words, but I don't care. It was in the official traditional vows for hundreds of years, and I wanted it, and Livia submitted to it.
Despite being lost in her, I manage to say the words I'm supposed to say when I'm supposed to say them. We exchange rings. He pronounces us officially legally bound. I grip the back of her neck and pull her in for a possessive kiss, giving her a preview of what's coming in a few short hours. She shudders against me.
When I pull away and look into her eyes, I'm satisfied she's gotten the message that she is mine and there's no going back now.
Welcome to your fucked-up happily-ever-after Livia Fairchild. I hope it's everything you ever dreamed it could be.
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GUILTY PLEASURES:
She was a bored housewife until she was taken and trained for the pleasure of the highest bidder.
Vivian Delaney leads a life of privilege, but behind closed doors she feels isolated and trapped in a gilded cage. Unable to achieve sexual pleasure with her husband, she finds herself in the capable hands of Anton, a massage therapist intent on awakening her to her full sexual potential. By any means necessary.
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Kitty ^.^
Acknowledgments
Thank you to the following people for their help with Proposal:
Charisse Lyn beta reading. Thank you for your eagle eye on this book when I needed it!
Robin Ludwig Design Inc. Cover design. Beautiful cover as always. This may be my favorite one, but I say that about every book.