The Biker King's Bride

Vivienne's POV

I already knew this was a mistake even before he forced the words down my throat, but what did I do? I went ahead with it.

Did I regret it? Yes

Was this going to be the end of such horrible decisions? Not at all.

I was screwed.

Really.

My eyes landed on the dress still sprawled on the bed. For the next couple of seconds, I deliberated my options.

One, actually wear the dress before Ronan's ten minutes were up, or two, shred it into pieces till it was completely unwearable for the party.

While the second option sounded plausible, it didn't take me more than a second to figure out the downside. Ronan was unpredictable, and no matter how much I thought I knew about him, which was little by the way, I just knew I would never be able to outsmart him, or play him from underneath his nose.

If I tore up the dress, I wouldn't put it past him to make me go in my underwear or anything more revealing. Yes, he was crazy that way, and for some strange reason, I found it exhilarating.

I already had one leg in the blood red dress when the door creaked open beside me.

Ronan.

How had ten minutes gone by so quickly?

Shit.

I gulped, not knowing what else to do or how to react. He'd given me ten minutes, and I was nowhere near done. What was he going to do?

Drag me out like this? Give me a little more time, or was he really going to dress me up like he said?

A shudder raced down my spine at the thought, but thankfully, I didn't have to dwell on it for a second longer.

Ronan's shadow spilled into the room first, followed by the man himself. Leather and danger clung to him like a second skin, and I wouldn't be exaggerating when I said he looked untouchable. He had his signature smirk on his face, the one he always wore as a crown, and hell, it suited him really well.

His gaze locked on me in the mirror, and I couldn't bring myself to avert my gaze, no matter how hard I tried. I was half dressed and a flustered mess, with my heaving chest giving it all away.

He was having a darn good time and he didn't even bother to hide it. Like that wasn't enough, I watched his eyes darken, slow and deliberate, as he dragged them over my body.

Get a grip on yourself, woman.

"Well, well, well." He drawled. "When I said ten minutes, I wasn't expecting a show in return"

A scowl made its way to my face, and I found myself pulling up the dress faster than I intended. His eyes lit up in amusement, and I fought the urge to slap it right out of his eyes. It was a little too late for modesty, but the least he could do was to rub it in my face.

"You said ten minutes." I huffed. "You're early. Why?"

"And you're still not ready." I hated the way there was a hint to his voice, one I just couldn't place my finger on, no matter how hard I tried.

Was it anger? Irritation, or something else? Did he mean it, or was he only trying to get a rise from me as always?

Without waiting for so much as a response from me, he crossed the room like he owned it, like he owned me., before coming to stand behind me at the vanity.

Our eyes met in the mirror, and in a flash, it felt like a repeat of what had just happened some minutes ago.

I hated how my breath hitched in my throat and how breathless I felt. I hated how the heat between us refused to die down. Hated how.....

Ronan reached for the zipper at the back of my dress without asking, and that was all it took to pull me out of my thoughts.

"I can do it myself." The goal was to sound confident and show him how much I didn't need his help, but my voice betrayed me last minute.

"I know." He murmured, his voice a low whisper. "But I want to."

His words stirred something in me, something I didn't like.

His fingers brushed my bare spine as he slowly, and deliberately pulled the zipper up.

The brush of his knuckles made goosebumps erupt across my arms, and I bit my lip, refusing to give him any satisfaction of another win.

"You're shaking." He breathed against my neck. "And I wonder why."

"I'm cold." The lie tumbled past my lips in an instant.

"Liar."

I swallowed.

"You look like war in that dress, Vivienne." he leaned in, his lips ghosting over the nape of my neck. "All sharp lines and red warnings. You're definitely going to ruin lives tonight, mine included."

My knees nearly buckled, but he was quick to catch me either way. He caught my waist, fingers biting into my hips long enough to steady me, and to remind me that no matter what I told myself , he had an effect on me I couldn't fight.

Way to go, Vivienne. Way to go.

"I don't want to go." I blurted out, quieter this time. I'd been approaching the matter head on, and Ronan had been outrightly refusing.

What if I tried a different approach instead? What if all Ronan was to be submitted to? If I could get my way tonight, then maybe I would be able to work something out later in the future.

Heavy on the maybe.

"You're not going for them, princess." he turned me around to face him, his voice surprisingly soft. "You're going for me, and If anyone touches you tonight, they'll lose the hand they used."

For some strange reason, there wasn't a hint of a false promise in his voice. I knew he meant it, and it made my skin hum.

Without warning, he reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear. I had no idea why it happened, but for a brief second, I imagined his huge hands fisting my hair from behind while he rammed into me and.....

Vivienne, stop.

"Finish getting ready." he nodded toward the lipstick on the vanity. I'll be waiting by the bike."

He turned to leave, and had already gotten as far as the door before coming back again.

I had no idea what he had up his sleeve, but it definitely wasn't what he did next.

In two strides he was in front of me again, one hand cupping my jaw, and tilting my head up.

His lips brushed mine and I shuddered. It was barely a kiss, nothing sweet about it, It was all heat and intent, with the hint of a promise of more.

So why the hell did it make my toes curl?

"Don't keep me waiting." When he pulled back his breath was rough.

And without warning, he was gone, leaving behind the scent of leather, sin and something unspoken.

My pulse raced as I walked back to the vanity. I was dazed, but still steadied myself just enough to grab my lipstick. I reached to the dresser for a hairpin and I'd barely gotten it out when something clinked in the clutter.

I paused.

Tucked beneath a pile of bandanas and coins was a small black handgun.

My breath hitched in my throat, and I fought the urge to pass out right there and then.

It obviously wasn't mine, and I didn't want to believe that Ronan had left it there. Why would he leave a gun in my dresser?

I stared at it for a second, heart thumping like a wild drum, then slowly and almost without thinking, I closed the drawer again.

I already had too many problems on my plate, and I'd be damned if I added a fucking gun to the list.