By the time the priest announces us as Mr. and Mrs. Dean O’Connell, I thought my teeth would shatter from clenching them together.
How my da was able to pull off a full high mass wedding on such short notice is beyond me. But then again, being who he is, he normally gets what he wants when he wants it. He’s a powerful man and everyone around here knows it.
Doesn’t help he filed all the proper documents needed months ago and the priest is the same one who did my baptism. Da always made sure we attended mass every Sunday.
With my hand resting in the crook of Dean’s arm, I let him lead the way out of the church toward the limo waiting for us. The reception is being held at a different location, so I’m thankful for the reprieve in between.
As I go to get in the limo, Dean helps me hold my dress up while I manage to get in without tripping over the damn thing. The dress is beautiful, yes, but I’m not one for long gowns. I never have been. I detested having to wear the elegant evening gowns when I had to attend galas and such with Da.
“Mo chuisle, you are stunning in this dress though I can’t wait to get it off you and see what lies underneath,” Dean murmurs, leaning and brushing his nose along the side of my cheek, his hand cupping the other side of my face. He does this the moment the door closes behind him.
“Just because we’re married now doesn’t mean I’m sleeping with you,” I say sarcastically.
Chuckling, Dean pulls his head back and slides his hand down to grip my chin. “Look at me, Bridget,” he says, tilting my head back enough to meet his gaze. “I will not sink my dick into this beautiful body of yours until you ask, and I promise you, you’ll be begging me to fuck you soon enough. However, when it comes to sleeping, you’ll be in my bed every night where I can hold you to me. To show you that you are mine.”
Leaning in, he brushes his lips to mine again gently. “Open for me,” he demands, releasing my chin to reach behind me gripping my hair I’d left down.
I do as he commands and give him what he wants. Okay, I’ll admit it’s what I want as well. I love the feel of his lips against mine.
The kiss seems to last for a long time before he pulls away, leaving me breathless.
“I don’t think I could go without having your lips against mine. They’re fuckin’ intoxicating, I can easily become drunk on your taste alone,” he murmurs, pressing his lips against mine once more for a brief, chaste kiss. “When we’re done with all of this reception mess, the two of us are staying in the hotel. I even had them switch my room for the honeymoon suite,” he informs me as he sits back in his seat.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I mumble, my head still in what I’m coming to think of as the Dean haze.
“Yes, mo chuisle, I know I didn’t have to, but it’s what I wanted to do. You and I need some time alone together here before we head home. I’ve put my manager in charge at the club for the week and Mitch is handling everything needed for now. He’ll only bother me if it’s something pressing,” he tells me.
I don’t get a chance to respond as the door opens and Dean’s helping me back out of the limo. It’s then I notice where the reception is being held. Narrowing my eyes, I glance at him to find him giving me a shit-eating grin.
Great, just great.
I won’t be able to get out of this one considering the damn reception is being held at none other than where Dean is staying.
As we make our way inside, I notice the room is already filled with people mingling.
“Behave, mo chuisle, and I’ll reward you later,” Dean murmurs against the top of my head the further we walk into the room.
Glancing up, I give him my fake smile that I use for everything.
“Sure, husband, I’ll be good, and you can reward me later by sleeping on the couch,” I say sweetly, causing him to laugh.
Oh God, I don’t know what’s worse, Dean’s grin or his laugh. They’re both panty-dropping worthy.
Shit, I’m so screwed. If Dean has his way, I’ll be underneath him by the end of the night at this rate rather than him being on the couch.
Chapter 9
Dean
This morning when I woke up later than I anticipated to, I didn’t exactly know what to expect. I’d left Tomás’ house sometime around three in the morning after Mitch, he, and I finished up going over what we had on Kean. I’d been exhausted when I got back to the hotel that soon as I showered and fell into bed I passed right out. The jet lag finally caught up to me and I overslept having not heard my alarm go off. I lift my phone off my nightstand and find I have an obscene number of messages. I ignore the majority of them as they could wait for another time.
I scroll through the ones Tomás sent regarding today’s itinerary, seeing I didn’t have much time to get ready for this afternoon and evening’s festivities. Good thing my mother would have my tux at the church. This was told to me in one of the texts from Tomás. I then go through the text messages Kenyon sent. Only to furrow my brows as I read them.
I’d ordered Kenyon to stay behind to watch over Bridget and to make sure she didn’t try anything stupid such as climb out a fucking window again.
