Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

“It’s not too late to back out, you know.”

I frowned at my dad. “We’re literally about to walk down the aisle.” The freaking wedding march had just begun to play behind the double doors of the room in front of us.

“Not too late,” he reiterated.

“Dad, you promised me earlier that you wouldn’t again try to change my mind.”

“And I’m not,” he said, widening his eyes in innocence. “I’m just pointing out that the option is there.”

“Well, it’s not an option I want to take.” I smoothed a hand down the side of my floor-length, sleeveless dress—an ivory satin, it boasted a V neck and also a few embellishments in the back straps. It was as elegant as it was stunning. “Let’s get moving.”

My arm linked through his, I urged him toward the doors. Tall with beautiful carvings, they suited the stately building so well. It was like something from a Jane Austen novel. Magnificent, regal, and timeless.

Dane shoved open a door and we walked inside the room where rows upon rows of padded chairs were lined up. The guests stood, but I didn’t glance at them. I immediately fixed my attention on Dax, who stood at the altar looking good enough to goddamn eat in his dark suit complete with a gold cravat and waistcoat.

His lips tipped up on one side as we locked eyes. There was so much in that hint of a smile—pride, satisfaction, male appreciation, a dare to come closer.

My grip flexing on my bouquet of white roses, I walked toward him, my gaze clinging to his. I didn’t want to look at the guests. Didn’t want to chance that I’d catch anyone pulling faces or whatever.

Having practiced walking in them many times over the past week, I didn’t teeter as I strolled down the aisle in my ivory high heels. The diamanté ankle-straps had annoyed me the first time I wore them, but they no longer chafed.

Dane leaned into me. “You look beautiful, by the way,” he said, his voice too low to carry to others. “Way too good for Mercier.”

I felt my eyelid twitch. “Would you consider anyone good enough for me?” I asked just as quietly.

“No,” he grunted. “But you’d be better off with someone who—”

“You promised.”

“I’m not attempting to change your mind, I’m merely making a point.”

“Stick that point up your ass and let. It. Go.”

A few footsteps later, we finally reached Dax. The music stopped, and there seemed to be a boom of silence. I went to stand beside him … but my dad didn’t let go of my arm.

Unimpressed, I widened my eyes at Dane. His mouth set into a harsh slash, and he shot my fiancé a foul glare. I heard a male snicker that I was pretty sure came from Drey.

From her seat in the front row, my mom exchanged an eye roll with me and then cleared her throat loud. At that, Dane let out a displeased grunt, reluctantly released me, and finally stepped back.

A pinch of amusement dancing in Dax’s eyes, he took my hand in his. As one, we turned to face the priest. Rather than release my hand, he tightened his hold—not to the point where it hurt or felt uncomfortable. No, it was a firm grip that screamed “there’s no backing out now.”

He really didn’t need to suspect I would. Because as the officiant began to speak, I realized with a start that I harbored absolutely no doubts or uncertainties about marrying the man beside me.

We might not be loved-up, might not even be an actual couple, but that didn’t seem so important right then. I felt at peace with my decision; felt I’d chosen the right path for me, even if it wasn’t a path that many others would properly understand. I didn’t feel even the slightest bit nervous about this at all.

Maybe it was just because I was finally in control of this aspect of my life. Or maybe someone had slipped me a Xanax or something.

As the priest talked, I snuck the occasional, superfast glance at Dax. Most often, he was looking at the officiant. On other occasions, our gazes momentarily clashed.

When it came time for us to say our vows, he turned to fully face me. It wasn’t his words I latched onto—I knew he couldn’t truthfully mean all of them, more specifically the whole “to love and to cherish” part. I focused on the intensity in his gaze and the seriousness of his tone; mentally heard his promise to stick by all that we had agreed on during our talks.

I recited my own vows in much the same way, conveying that same message to him. He must have received it loud and clear, because a flash of something warm and a little smug washed across his face.

I switched my gaze back to the priest as he once more began to speak. It wasn’t long later that the part arrived where he appealed for anyone who objected to the wedding to speak up. I tensed, not trusting that someone wouldn’t say something.

I heard slight mutterings coming from Ollie quickly followed by my mother hiss-whispering, “Feel how you want to feel, but hold your fucking peace.”

I bit back a smile and looked at Dax to see a glitter of humor in his eyes. Yeah, he’d heard.

Once the time to exchange rings rolled around, I carefully handed my bouquet to a waiting Sabrina, who beamed at me. She looked stunning in her gold satin gown—it was similar to those worn by my three bridesmaids.

Dax’s best man, Caelan, doubled as our ring bearer. He handed over the white gold wedding bands. Dax and I slid them on each other’s fingers, spouted more ceremonial words, and were soon after pronounced man and wife.

My pulse kicked into high gear when Dax dipped his head and lowered his lips to mine. Warm and soft, they brushed over my mouth … and then claimed it. I felt only the barest flick of his tongue against the tip of mine, but it didn’t matter—that lingering, shallow, slow-motion kiss was woven with such a deep sensuality that my body lit up and I almost did a head-to-toe shiver.

Yes, he was that good.

He pulled back, a gleam of carnal promise in his eyes. And then it was done. Over. I was officially Addison Mercier—a thought that was somewhat surreal.

All that happened next went by in a blur. Paperwork was signed, pictures were taken, confetti was thrown, more pictures were taken. Before I knew it, everyone had poured into the larger room where the reception would take place. Guests found their tables easily and quickly due to the seating chart.

As I took my seat at the head table, Dax put his mouth to my ear and said, “Part of me doubted you’d go through with this.”

Affronted, I frowned as I laid down my bouquet. “I gave you my word,” I said, my voice low.

“And I was certain you intended to stick to it. I simply wasn’t sure if, when the day arrived, you’d find that you couldn’t.”

I sniffed, placing my clutch beneath the table. “Well, you were wrong.”

Leaning forward a little, I glanced past him to check on Sabrina. She sat at the end of the table, gabbing away to Blake—most likely about me, since she’d told me in advance that she meant to “big me up” to my father-in-law so he’d come round to the idea of the marriage.

In between him and Dax sat Kensey, who was gently stroking the white roses woven into the table garland, likely trying to determine if they were real or artificial. They were actually synthetic, as was the rest of the floral décor, but they looked astonishingly real.

Turning my head to check out the other side of the table, I noticed that my parents were having a whispered argument—I made out the word “speech,” so I was guessing Dane was again complaining that I’d wiped the speech-part of the events from the reception. He’d no doubt intended to publicly threaten Dax with bodily harm if he hurt me.

At the far end of the table, Caelan was mouthing something to his younger brother, who sat at the table closest to this. Drey merely stared at him, his expression one of blank incomprehension.

I did a quick scan of the room, noticing that people were casually chatting—some sipping at the champagne that was currently being served. I threw Dax a sideways glance and asked, “When do you want to do the introductions?” I hadn’t before met many of his guests, and vice versa. We’d agreed we’d do it at some point on the wedding day.

He leaned into me. “Some time after we cut the cake.”

So—after we’d downed our meal, had our first dance, performed the parents-dances, cut the cake, and then officially kicked off the party—that was what we did.

Together, we went from table to table where we said our hellos, thanked people for coming, and each introduced the other to unfamiliar guests. Everybody was polite and friendly, even Ollie—though not until Marleigh dug her fingers into his thigh hard enough to make him wince.

Dax and I then separated as I joined my family and friends on the dancefloor. He wasn’t much for dancing. I soon learned his father was like him in that respect. Not his mom, however. Kensey spent a fair amount of time on the dancefloor with Vienna, Hanna, and also Jag’s mom Sarah as the hours went on.

I occasionally attempted to chat with members of my team, but they scampered fast when they saw me coming—likely not trusting that I wouldn’t try to take over.

At a later point, as I exited the restrooms with Harri and Raven, I asked them, “Are you having a good time?”

Blowing out a breath, her eyes lit with a smile, Harri nodded hard. “Yes. Your husband is a dish. Really.”

Raven chuckled. “I could say the same about your brother—I’m kind of bummed that he’s taken.”

If he hadn’t been taken, he would have for sure looked twice at Raven. The girl was so beautiful she could stop traffic. Tall and willowy, she had the same mismatched eyes and dark hair as her mom and oldest brother.

I gave Harri a playful nudge. “You seem to be getting along well with Drey.” I’d noticed them talking often. Not flirting, but jabbering away like old friends.

“I thought I’d be nervous talking to him, but he’s so easy to chat to,” said my sister.

“Kind of like you, then.” Harri made everyone feel immediately comfortable with her.

The three of us went back into the room where the reception was being held. The music was still blaring, and everybody appeared to be enjoying themselves.

A guy I recognized as Maverick’s younger brother—Jameson was his name, if I remembered rightly—appeared in front of us, his attention on Raven. “How about a dance?” he asked.

I expected her to snap up his offer—he was super good-looking. But her smile faltered, and she slid her eyes to her left. I tracked her gaze, noting it had landed on Rafael … who was not only staring right at her but gave her a minute shake of the head.

Well, now.

Raven swiftly resettled her eyes on Jameson. “Thanks, but these shoes are hurting my feet. Ask Harri. She loves to dance.” The girl practically shoved my sister toward him. Harri happily went off with him, having missed the byplay.

I inched closer to Raven. “Is something going on between you and Rafael?”

She tensed, her eyes widening. “No, of course not.”

“I noticed the look you two just exchanged—he didn’t want you dancing with that guy, and you obliged him when he basically told you not to.”

She sighed, her cheeks reddening. “Nothing is going on, I swear. He’s one of my brother’s best friends. And thirty-three. A little old for me, right?”

“I don’t know. That’s like, what, a thirteen-year age gap? It’s not terribly bad. But the fact that he’s deep in illegal crap? Well, that’s different.”

She let out an amused snort. “You do realize my brother is no saint in that respect, right?”

“Oh, I do. But he doesn’t run a crime syndicate.”

Just then, Sabrina and Tamara materialized … and Raven made a quick escape while I was distracted. My lips thinning, I resolved that I’d speak to her about Rafael again at a later point.

“I love this dress so much,” Sabrina practically cooed as she stared at my gown. “I knew as soon as I saw you slip it on at the bridal shop that this was the one.”

“I know. You yelled it.”

Tamara’s mouth curved. “That does not surprise me.”

“I’ll tell you what is surprising,” I said. “That your brother brought a female guest—I thought he was single.”

“So did we,” said Sabrina, pouting. “I was going to set him up with Alicia.”

“I don’t think you’d have been very successful at it. She’s too busy giving the stink-eye to every male that looks in Harri’s general direction. That’s when she’s not eyeing up Jag.”

Tamara hummed. “I noticed that. He is eyeing her up right back. Or he does when she is not looking.”

I nodded. It was strange to be at a wedding I wasn’t organizing. It meant I saw things I might have otherwise missed. Juicy stuff. Like how one of Dax’s cousins kept mooning over an oblivious Maverick. Like how waitresses kept slipping bits of paper into Drey’s pocket. Like how one of Rafael’s bodyguards watched Raven with a protective eye—I’d initially thought he was interested in her, but now I was thinking that maybe Rafael had asked him to keep watch over her.

As Caelan walked past us—giving me a brief tip of his chin—Tamara leaned into me and said, “Now he is a fine specimen. They all are, really. Objectively speaking.”

“Gossiping?” asked Ollie, sidling up to me.

“Nope,” I said. “Perving. In my case, anyway.”

He arched a brow. “I would think your new husband won’t like that.”

I felt my brow crease. “Why do you say the H word with sarcasm?”

Ollie sipped at his drink. “Because he isn’t your real husband, is he?”

“I intend to fuck him every which way to consummate the marriage tonight so, yeah, he will be my real husband.”

“La, la, la, I don’t want to hear about it.” Draping an arm over my shoulders, he pressed a kiss to my cheek. “Love you. Sorry I’ve been a dick.”

I smiled. “Love you, too. I’ll let it lie if you be nice to Dax from now on.”

A pained look fell over his face, and he tugged at his tuxedo bow. “I’ll give it my best shot.”

Simon sidled up to him. “What’s with that look on your face?” he asked him in a soft, lilting voice, his air warm and effeminate. Maggie.

Ollie rubbed at his shoulder. “Addie wants me to be nice to Dax.”

“Hmm.” Maggie slid her gaze to me. “I said hi to Dax just now. I must admit, he was very courteous.” Her eyes filled with worry, she gave me a very motherly look. “I hope you know what you’re doing, young lady.”

“I do,” I told her.

She exhaled heavily. “Well, he’s certainly handsome; I’ll grant him that much. Love those peepers of his.” She sighed. “Deacon likes him.”

“Deacon would,” Ollie muttered teasingly. “He likes anyone with an edge of danger about him.”

Maggie smiled. “That is true.”

A short while later, more food was served. People ate and drank and danced and laughed. I couldn’t include my dad or Blake in the latter, but their glowers melted away and they started to enjoy themselves eventually.

It was when I was draining my flute of champagne—I had a nice buzz going on at this point—that Dax appeared at my side and spoke into my ear. “It’s time for us to leave.”

My stomach clenched. His words were practically coated in liquid sex. I met his gaze, finding his own dark with want. Setting down my glass, I swallowed. “All right.”

We said private goodbyes to our nearest and dearest, made our grand exit, and hopped into a waiting limo. The venue had plenty of bedrooms, including a honeymoon suite, but he’d said no to using the latter with no explanation why. Since I wasn’t too bothered and he hadn’t made many demands, I’d respected his wish.

The moment the car doors were shut, closing us in a confined space, the air began to thicken with tension. Neither of us spoke. Or touched. Or even looked at each other.

I rubbed at my thigh, my free hand gripping my clutch tight. It was probably weird that I was nervous, right? It wasn’t as if I was a virgin. Plus, we’d had sex before. Lots of it. We weren’t strangers to each other’s bodies.

And yet, my central nervous system was hyper.

Maybe it was due to the knowledge that the next step would solidify everything. There had been a surreal quality to the day’s events; to the concept of us now being man and wife. Consummating the marriage would make it real.

Or maybe my system was so hyper because he had such a powerful impact on my body. Too powerful an impact. He had more control over it than I did, and that was an unsettling fact.

The closer we got to his home, the more taut the air in the vehicle became. Until my skin prickled and my muscles went tight. Excitement was a fever in my blood, and it took everything I had not to tap my heel restlessly.

Eventually, we reached his home. Exiting the car, I subtly drew in a steadying breath. We entered the villa in relative silence.

“Bedroom,” he said, his voice low and deep, his eyes glittering with intent. It wasn’t an order; it was a declaration that held a taunting pinch of challenge.

Remembering the way, I walked past him and headed for the staircase, conscious of him trailing behind. Fisting my dress, I lifted it slightly so I wouldn’t trip as I ascended the stairs. Even as my pulse went nuts and my stomach kept clenching and unclenching, I went straight into the master bedroom. There, I dropped my clutch on a shelf, moved to the foot of the bed, and then turned to fully face him.

Halting a few feet away, Dax gave me a lazy eye-bang, the glow of possession in his eyes. He tugged off his cravat and dropped it on a nearby chair. “Did I tell you that you look fucking breathtaking in that dress?”

No, but he hadn’t needed to. Dax could communicate so much with a single look. When he felt like it, that was. Other times he’d wear an inscrutable expression that kept you guessing.

He shrugged off his jacket, tossed it on the chair, and then deftly unbuttoned his waistcoat—each movement smooth, fluid, unrushed, ramping up the tension still humming between us.

“Don’t,” he said when I went to lower the side zipper of my dress. “I’ll take it off myself when I’m ready.”

It was probably for the best, since my hands were trembling—knowing my luck, the zipper would get stuck.

After adding his waistcoat to the pile, he began tackling his shirt buttons. “Do you know why I didn’t want to use the manor’s honeymoon suite?”

No, I didn’t. Nor did I particularly care at that moment. Because he was baring inches of sleek, tanned, inked muscle that I really wanted to lick.His body was a masterpiece. Screamed strength and power.

“Because”—he threw the shirt on the pile—“I only intend to fuck my wife for the first time in our bed.”

My heart slammed against my ribs. I licked my lips. “We’ve had sex before.”

He dropped his hands to his belt and undid the buckle. “Not while you were wearing my rings on your finger.” He whipped off the belt and placed it on top of the clothes he’d shed. “This is different.”

My pulse did a little skip as he slowly came toward me. The rush of exquisite excitement that swept over me left goosebumps in its wake. I felt my breathing speed up as the tension in the air snapped taut.

He stopped directly in front of me, so close our bodies touched and I could feel his hard cock pressing against my stomach. “Don’t move unless I tell you,” he said. Didn’t order, no, just said. And yet, the pull to comply—more, to please him—was right there.

While I’d often bristled when other males tried dominating me in the bedroom, I’d never reacted that way with Dax—he was just so different. He didn’t boss me. Didn’t dish out orders. Didn’t voice his directives with an expectance of obedience.

He asserted himself, owned his personal power, with such ease and calm. The ease and calm of a man for whom being so authoritative was just a basic part of his personality. All that strength and self-possession made me feel safe ratherthan disrespected; made following his directives feel natural and even a little compelling.

Dax lightly rested his hands on the sides of my face, letting his gaze roam over it, stroking his thumb along the corner of my mouth. “Beautiful.” He dipped his head, touching the tip of his nose to mine for the merest moment before drawing back. “And now all mine again.”

He skimmed his hands upward, brushing them over my ears, gently thumbing the lobes and skimming over the shells—the fluid move woke up so many nerve-endings it was crazy.

He started carefully removing the pins from my hair, his face so excruciatingly close I felt every soft pulse of air he exhaled. His dark, spicy scent seemed to slink its way into my system and root itself in my lungs. Like it imprinted itself on me.

I remained still, drinking in the delicious energy arcing between us. Flutters of anticipation yo-yoed around my stomach. But I wasn’t experiencing any urge to fidget. I felt too relaxed, too comfortable. Also too needy.

Basically, endorphins and dopamine were having their wicked way with me.

I’d missed this. Missed this combined feeling of supreme safety and hyper-arousal that came from being under the decadent direction and intent care of someone so strong and powerful and implacable. I’d never found it with any other man.

Pulling out yet another clip, Dax brushed his lips lightly along my temple and gently nuzzled me there. My heart jumped at the unexpected touch, like I’d been zapped by static electricity. My facial nerve-endings were just so excruciatingly aware and sensitive right then.

A whisper-soft, butterfly kiss passed over my forehead as my hair tumbled down my back. “That’s what I want.” Breezing a featherlight kiss over my cheekbone, he added the last of the pins to the nearby dresser.

Already damp, I flexed my fingers. “I don’t suppose there’s any point in me asking you to speed things along, is there?” It wasn’t really a question. When Dax got it in his head to take his time, all you could do was enjoy the ride—and you would. Very much so. But the wait was almost painful.

A dark intensity swallowed his pupils. “Oh, this isn’t going to be a quick fuck, Addison. Far from it.” He slithered his hand up the back of my neck, gathered a fistful of my hair, and wrenched my head back.

I gasped, my inner walls contracting.

He softly dragged the tip of his nose down the side of my neck. “Shall I tell you what’s coming?” he asked, his tone low, deep, conversational. “I’m going to explore, use, and defile you. Every inch, Addison. Every fucking inch of you will ache for what I can give you. By the time I’m done here, your body is going to know exactly who it belongs to.” He pulled my head up, his gaze locking on mine. “And it’s never going to forget.”