with what she had accomplished. I surmised that she’d had no choice but to grow up fast considering who her uncle was and the role she played in their organization.
The Black Saints, now her organization, wasn’t a run-of-the-mill small-time group. Although they were facing major issues, they had applied strategic techniques and tactics that had made them a force in their respective market.
Mecca’s uncle had left her an empire on the verge of collapse, but based on the strength of her profile alone, I was confident that she would find a way to fix their issues.
Standing before her, I found that there was nothing about her that my gaze didn’t linger on. It was concealed well, but when you were trained, more like tortured, into detecting small details, you see a lot of what others missed.
A large bruise on her arm was concealed under flesh-colored makeup. I found it difficult to believe in any aspect that she was being abused by a lover. I didn’t know her well, but based on the few interactions we shared, she was not the kind of woman that would tolerate a man putting his hand on her in anger. What was happening in her life that left her bruised?
Mecca slid my ring on but hesitated before she glanced up to meet my eyes, watching me as keenly as I was her. Her gaze followed mine to the bruise I spotted, and our eyes lifted at the same time.
Her expression didn’t give anything away, but she knew that I knew what she was hiding. I also noticed the life and death tattoo on her inner left arm, skeletal fingers grasping at a beautiful blue butterfly. I had caught a glimpse of the same tattoo in the same area on Desiree’s arm.
“You may kiss your bride.”
The words lured me from the depth of my exploring as my gaze fell immediately to her tempting lips, slick with a purplish color that highlighted their plushness and caused my tongue to dart across my own lips.
Mecca’s facial expressions battled as she stood stiffly in place, the tension in her forehead indicating she either didn’t want to or hadn’t anticipated kissing me. But, I wanted it. I wanted to see if her lips were as soft as they appeared to be.
“It’s okay. I’m a great kisser,” I whispered, making the crease in her forehead deepen at my arrogant words. The words were a lead off to my hand gliding along the surface of her neck, an action I hadn’t intended to take. I leaned in, excited for a taste of her.
“Kiss me and get it over with, you big nut,” she whispered.
The tension in her body radiated, but it didn’t stop my lips from melting into hers, caressing them between the folds of mine. “So soft.” My whisper escaped and added weight to my reluctance to pull away.
Her scent floated around me while her warmth gripped me as securely as the pull of the connection shared when our lips had touched. One touch wasn’t enough. I leaned in further, trapping her lips between mine, tasting the sweetness she possessed.
The kiss sent a gratifying warmth careening through me, enticing me to go deeper when she pressed her lips into mine, returning the kiss.
“A-humm.” Someone was attempting to get our attention. The light murmurs from the audience sounded before the pastor cleared his throat a second time. Even with the knowledge that I was causing a scene, that we were causing a scene, I was reluctant to back away.
An eruption of applause followed my release, but my eyes were locked on Mecca’s and her lifted right brow. An unreadable glint flashed in her eyes as she scanned me up and down, ignoring the crowd as much as I was. Why was I standing in the middle of my wedding, pondering what she thought of me?
When I took too long to turn us so that we could proceed with the bride and groom walk, Mecca tugged at the tail of my suit jacket to call my attention. There was no doubt in my mind we had shared a connection. Had she sensed that we had chemistry? The realization had stunned me. It had me questioning what I had missed because I was usually not thrown off guard like this.
“Give me your hand,” I suggested, realizing we needed to start our first walk as husband and wife.
Individuals and couples that understood our marriage was an arrangement, made toasts like we were a real couple.