Quiet Chaos - Keta Kendric Page 0,17

sunk into their height, Arjen carried his with confidence. You were going to pay attention to all six-foot-five inches of him because he demanded it. And he had surely invented the term metrosexual as there wasn’t a thing out of place: not a button, a cuff-link, or a loose strain of hair.

He took care of his appearance, and I took my time admiring the presentation. I’d always been of the mindset that there wasn’t anything wrong with admiring something or someone, and today, my new husband hadn’t disappointed my wandering eyes.

However, there was an underlying darkness in his penetrating stare that gave me hints at who Arjen truly was. Desiree may have ended up with ‘the Kannibal,’ but I sensed I had ended up with the physical representation of danger. The sixth sense I cultivated and learned to rely on kicked in when I was approaching a danger I couldn’t see. It had flared up a couple of times already when I couldn’t see him but sensed him near.

He didn’t stop his stalking approach until he had parked his imposing body in my personal space, blocking the light. He leaned in, placing his lips to my right ear and purposely igniting a series of tingles that I fought to suppress.

“It’s time for our wedding dance,” he whispered, making sure his warm fresh breath licked my ear.

Was this all a game to him? I narrowed inquisitive eyes at him before I took the hand he offered and allowed him to escort me onto the dance floor. For the purpose of perception, I realized that we were putting on a performance, but it did nothing to skirt the notion that our wedding kiss had felt real. So real in fact, he’d managed to make me forget I was standing in front of a crowd, participating in an arranged marriage. I don’t believe it had been planned to get a rise from our audience, although it had.

The memory of that kiss had glued itself to the front of my mind. Remnants of the delicious tingle it left on my lips and the zest it sent rippling through me had me recalling every vivid detail.

What was he doing? “Kiss me and get it over with, you big nut,” I whispered. Instead of initiating the kiss, this man stood his big fine ass in front of me, taking his sweet time, admiring me, and making me squirm under the weight of his lengthy observation.

His strong hand slid with the softest caress against my neck as his probing gaze dropped to my lips. The smallest hint of his hot pink tongue slipped across his lips when he fixed his gaze on my own. When he leaned into me, the world began to slow. What was happening? Why was this simple kiss so dramatic? Why did I want it so badly all of a sudden?

The first brush of his lips against mine closed my eyes as the sweet warming zing of elation shot through me. He started to pull away but changed his mind and pressed his lips harder into mine with an assured firmness, possessing my mouth and controlling me at the same time. I inhaled, but it wasn’t air that flowed into me, it was a potent shot of him that breezed through my system.

This was an introduction of a different kind, one I had never before encountered. Our bodies were saying hello in their own special way even as our minds fought to translate the dialogue being exchanged. When my lips slid so sensually between the possessive flow of his, an urgent need for more contact sent my hand to his waist, and I fisted the material of his jacket.

He drew me closer into his body with his strong hand spanning my lower back, the other cradling the side of my neck. Flickers of fire fluttered through my veins at his touch. I attempted to ease back when I felt myself slipping too far into something dangerous, something we weren’t supposed to explore, but he refused to let me get away.

He recaptured my lips, trapping them between the grooves of his, making me feel how well we fit together. His hand slowly slid up my neck. His thumb settled below my ear as his fingertips feathered my hairline, the touch instantly sparking a series of tingles that aligned with the ones pouring in from the kiss.

I believe it was our blazing passion that tightened the rope that now tied us together. When I managed

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