Every time I open my mouth, I swear I’m channelling my grandma. I have no filter. I didn’t mean to just blurt my secret out. Not for everyone to hear.

Regret burns a hole in my gut the size of Russia when I see the disgust on his handsome face. He smiled when I grabbed his hand, but after that little declaration, it disappeared faster than the Roadrunner after watching that stupid coyote blow himself up. In its place is a hardness I’ve only ever seen on my father. Cold dread fills me as he drops my hand like I somehow burned his skin.

That’d be my cue to leave.

“Right, then,” I whisper. A suspicious knot catches in my throat at being rejected by this beautiful specimen of a man. “Mom, Dad, I’ll be off. You won’t hear from me again. I’ll no longer be your disappointment.”

Walking out of the church, I hear my father cursing, my mother pretending to cry, and an old man giving someone shit. I don’t care, though. I can’t care.

For the first time in my twenty-two years, I’m free of obligation and appearances.

“Megan!” I cringe at my mother’s voice while walking down the sidewalk in this ridiculous, idiotic dress. “Megan!” she screams again. I wonder if I dart into traffic, will she follow me? A bruising grip on my arm halts me from my forward moment as I’m turned around.

“What?” I snap, gritting my teeth and holding on to my temper by a damn thread.

“Get your sorry, no-good, slutty ass back into that church and marry that man. Now!” With so much spit flying from her mouth, she yells the last word so loud, as if that will compel me to listen.

Licking my lips, I pretend to think about it. The steam coming from her empty airhead almost makes me chuckle. “No.” She’s taken aback by my refusal.

“What did you say to me?” The most feral growl I’ve ever heard rattles her skinny chest as she takes a step closer to me.

“Sunshine.” Have mercy. I look up to the voice that has shivers racing down my spine and see my groom advancing on me with wicked intent in his chocolaty gaze.

My mother is mouthing off still, and I’m at a point with this man that I don’t even hear her. He’s stolen 100% of my attention.

His long stride with those thick thighs covered in all that sinful fabric has captured every brain cell I have left. His walk is with purpose and strength. Poised and intent. I’m intimidated and fascinated all at the same time.

When the scrumptious delight is standing right in front of me, he takes another step closer, invading my personal bubble. One hand grazes down my cheek while the other plays with my fingers. “Still there,” he murmurs, right before our lips meet with sparks flying everywhere.

My entire body tenses and lights up by his tentative touch. I hear my mother huff a breath of annoyance at the same time my groom-to-be deepens the kiss. Pushing his tongue into my mouth, his hands wrap around my back. I can feel his fingers dig into my shoulders as he melds our bodies together.

“Like sweet sunshine.” I can feel his breath on my lips as he whispers to me. “Tell me your name,” he commands. No questions with this man.

“Megan.” I breathe, barely above a whisper. I don’t even know if he heard me.

His intense gaze closes, and he inhales deeply before saying, “Megan,” like a prayer.

Not another word is spoken as he grips my hand again and pulls me along behind him, back to the dreaded church.

“Now wait just a minute.” I attempt to protest. Just because our chemistry is off the charts hot, that doesn’t mean I want to marry him any more than I did an hour ago.

I might want to climb him like a tree, but I still don’t know his damn name!

After my shock wears off, and I glimpse the young woman running out the doors, her mother hot on her heels, I’m in motion. She may be pregnant, but the damn electric current zapping between us isn’t to be ignored.

My parents have always told me that one day, I’d feel it, and I’d know. This anonymous bride is most certainly mine. I’ll raise her child as my own, and we’ll have as many as I can plant inside her.

“Go on, son, get her back here.” My father smirks as I walk past him.

Hearing the way the mother talked to my girl burns me. I’ll bury her parents soon enough. First, she needs to accept that she’s mine, completely.

The sound of her name as she spoke it, feeling her lips under mine, her lithe body fitting perfectly into me, I’m ready for the honeymoon phase of this gong show, now.

Her protestations behind me as I pull her back into the church, mean nothing. There isn’t a damn thing she’ll be able to do to get out of this “no longer a sham” marriage now. She sealed her fate when her little fists gripped my shirt so tightly that I felt a button pop off.

Standing in front of the minister once again, he shakes his head at her struggles, so I do the only reasonable thing I can. I tug her hand so she falls into my body, our mouths meshing together like a brand to cattle. When I feel her relaxing into my hold, I pull away slowly. A nod to the minister has him continuing with the ceremony. This sassy woman is going to give me a run for my money, but she’ll bear my last name.

She stares in a daze as we recite our vows, pledge our lives to each other, and finally, it’s announced, “I now pronounce you Mr. and Mrs. Jordan Maxwell. You may kiss the bride.” Her gaze darkens and narrows at the use of my name, and I wonder if it’s because she knows who I am and how much money I have, or if she hates me now that she’s mine.

I don’t give her long to ponder the answer. Grasping her mesmerizing frame in my embrace, I step into her and seal our lives with a kiss.

Hot.

Hard.

Deep.

Searing.

I’m bonding myself to her. Imprinting my mark on her soul. “Dammit,” I feel her mutter as I nip her lip and sweep my tongue inside her mouth.

“You’re mine now, Mag-pie.” Picking her up in my arms, I don’t wait around for either of our parents to say a word. We quickly stop to sign our names to the marriage license, and I’m taking her out of the church and into the waiting limo.

As the door closes behind us, I have her straddling my lap and silence surrounds us.

Her arms crossing, followed by, “This could be considered kidnapping,” has me smiling because I can feel her struggling to remain angry at whatever has her pissed off.