Page 24 of Unchained

Gianna turns back to me, an eyebrow arched, and I can’t work out if she finds it amusing or if his ridiculous nature pisses her off. Could be either.

“Please, carry on,” I tell the Minister.

“Colten Rex Sterling, will you take Gianna Milano to be your wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Will you love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as you both shall live?”

I bite back a grin, tilting my head to look at my wife. “Oh, ‘till death do us part. I do.”

“I’ll wear this dress to your funeral,” she whispers back.

I almost laugh. “Your turn,” I mouth to her with a wink. Purely for my own amusement. All I know about Gianna so far is that she isn’t a fan of nicknames or anything cute in general. I never said I was going to make this easy on her.

In fact, I want to make her regret every choice she's made that led her to this moment.

“Gianna, will you have this man to be your wedded husband, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Will you love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him, so long as you both shall live?"

Her eyes drag down my body, and she takes a step forward. I tilt my head down, our noses almost touching.

“I do,” she breathes out.

Fuck.

I lean down, my lips brushing her ear. “I’m going to make sure you regret this for the rest of your life, wife.”

She pulls back, a fake smile plastered on her face as the minister places the ring in my hand.

“Colten, repeat after me. With this ring, I thee wed, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen."

I repeat word for word as I slide the diamond-encrusted band on her slender, tattooed finger on top of the ginormous black engagement ring she’s gifted herself. We bought our own rings, because we haven’t even had a conversation, let alone talked about ring sizes.

Gianna takes her turn, sliding the black platinum ring on mine. And I swear to god it burns my skin.

The room is silent as I take a deep breath.

“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce that you are husband and wife.” He pauses. “You may kiss your bride.”

I don’t hesitate. She wanted this circus. She can have it. I take a step forward, grip her by the throat, tipping her back so I can lean over.

My lips hover over hers. Her chestnut eyes scalding into mine. Neither of us moves, like we’re suspended in time.

“What are you waiting for? Kiss the bride. Or are you too much of a pussy? ” she mutters.

A growl erupts out of me.

I slam my mouth over hers, and I swear someone in the crowd gasps. One hand is digging into her waist, while the other is choking her. On center stage for God to view, this woman, this devil in red heels, is now my wife.

My tongue dances with hers, her fingers yanking at my hair. And I’m fighting every part of me not to get an erection in church.

“Get a fuckin’ room. Jesus is watching, dickhead,” Jett calls out.

Slowly, I pull back; her hot little breaths beat against my skin, her cheeks flushed. She wipes the lipstick from my face, and I swear her fingers are trembling as I help her stand upright.

I brush down my suit, cross my arms, and take a step away.

Nope. That was nothing. That shooting electric jolt into my chest wasn’t some sort of religious sign that she’s mine.

It’s probably telling me she’s going to give me a heart attack. Or worse, stab me through the heart like she did to her brother.

“You’re a good kisser,” she says under her breath.