By His Vow: A Billionaire Arranged Marriage Romance

I wake with my entire body burning up, and it doesn’t take long to discover why.Material © of NôvelDrama.Org.

Kingston is wrapped around me like a fucking koala.

Sure, I’ve fallen asleep wrapped in his arms, but it’s a whole other thing to wake up like it. Like he needed me in his sleep.

The thought makes my head spin.

It was just the incredible sex, I tell myself as I do my best to slide from beneath his arm without waking him. He doesn’t actually want me; it was just the insanity of the day before.

It takes longer than I thought possible, but I finally manage to climb from the bed, leaving him still sleeping behind me as I pad naked across the colossal bedroom.

My steps falter as I round the bed and find my abandoned wedding dress exactly where we left it last night.

I glance back at the giant bed where Kingston continues to sleep in the middle, his arm outstretched as if I’m still there.

My heart clenches, as does my tender pussy.

It’s a reminder I don’t need about everything that happened after he carried me in here last night.

If I thought things were intense between us at the cabin, then I really underestimated the situation.

Last night…

Fuck.

Easily the hottest sex of my life.

It’s probably exactly what every other newly married couple dreams of.

But we’re not every other married couple.

We’re not wildly in love and planning to spend the rest of our lives together.

We barely even like each other.

And yet…

“Tatum.”

My heart seizes in my chest as his deep voice lingers in the air.

I keep my eyes on him, but he doesn’t move.

He’s dreaming about you…

Fuck.

Ripping my gaze from him, I rush across the room and lock myself in the bathroom before freaking out.

My breaths come faster, and the room spins around me.

I’m married to Kingston Callahan.

I’m going to be his wife for the next year.

Lifting my hand, I stare down at my rings, my heart continuing to pound in my chest as reality settles on my shoulders.

It was easy to forget about it all last night after more than a few glasses of champagne and the fog of lust surrounding us.

But now, in the cold light of day…

“Fuck. What have I done?”

Spinning around, I press my palms against the granite countertop and stare at myself in the mirror.

My hair is wild, any hint of the pretty updo Marissa and her team did yesterday long gone—and so is the makeup, other than the smudged black eyeliner and mascara making me look even more tired and stressed than I really am.

Seconds and then minutes tick by as I continue to silently freak out. My thoughts flick erratically between memories of my time with Kingston over the past few weeks, our wedding day, and my time at the cottage with Aunt Lena.

I can remember every room as if it were my own home. The whole place is filled with laughter and happiness. Nothing like the home I grew up in.

A pained sigh spills from my lips.

It’s always been my happy place. A place I’ve retreated to when life got too hard. A place of solace and peace. A place where all my troubles ceased to exist for the days and weeks I was there.

Losing Aunt Lena a few years ago was hard. I hate to admit it, but it was harder than losing my father has been.

She was like a grandmother to me.

She was fifteen years older than my father. My grandfather’s illegitimate child when he was a teenager. She was a huge part of my father’s early years. His nanny, almost. She may have married an English man and moved across the pond, but she never forgot about me and Miles. She was like the grandmother I never had. Okay, sure, I did have grandparents for the first few years of my life, but they weren’t exactly involved.

Aunt Lena, however, never forgot us.

Every month, she’d send us a goodie box of all the incredible things that were only available in England. Chocolates, candy, and so much more.

The days that box was delivered were my favorite. The excitement that bubbled inside me as we unwrapped them was beyond anything else I experienced.

I’m so lost in my memories of years gone by that I don’t hear the door opening, but the second Kingston’s eyes land on me, a violent shiver rips down my spine. My eyes lift.

Instantly, our gazes connect in the mirror, and I swear the world shakes beneath me.

“You ran,” he says, his voice rough with sleep.

“I needed to pee,” I lie.

“So why are you staring at yourself in the mirror like you’re regretting every single one of your life choices?”

Any words I might have shrivel up and die on my tongue, the air turning electric as he continues to move closer.

I can’t see beneath his waist, but I know he’s naked, and that’s only confirmed when he presses himself against me.

His cock is hard, and fuck if my pussy doesn’t flutter with the thought of him pushing inside me again.

It’s wrong.

I shouldn’t want him as fiercely as I do after the night we just had together.

I should have had my fill.

It should have been enough.

But I can’t help but feel like we’ve only scratched the surface of what we could have together.

“What’s wrong?” he demands, his hand sliding from my hip up to my waist, pinning us together.

We fit perfectly.

Too perfectly.

“Nothing.”

“You’re lying to me,” he states. “Is that really how you want our marriage to begin?”

A weird blend of fury and confusion shoots through my veins and I run my mouth before thinking.

“This isn’t a marriage. It’s nothing but a fucking sham.”

His hand moves faster than I thought possible, and I gasp as it wraps around my throat.

“Kingston,” I moan when his fingers flex in the most delicious way.

He doesn’t cut my air off, but the warning is there, and my body reacts.

“You like that, baby?” he asks when I grind my ass back against him.

I swallow, letting him feel the answer as my pulse continues to race.

“Now, let’s try this again. What’s wrong?”

His eyes bounce between mine as the heat of his body once again sears through me, making my blood boil.

“W-we’re married,” I whisper.

“Right?” His voice is calm, thoughtful, as if this whole thing hasn’t affected him or his life in any way. It’s not true. I know it’s not. I’ve seen his moments of vulnerability. His concern over letting me into his apartment and sharing his life with me. I swear I have.

“Doesn’t this…terrify you?” I ask, hating how open and vulnerable I feel.

“Why should it? It’s just a year, right? We do our time, and then we return to our lives as we know them.”

My brows pinch.

“And you’re okay with that?” I ask.

“Of course. I wouldn’t have agreed otherwise.”

“Right. Yeah,” I mutter, feeling like an idiot.

Of course, none of this really means anything to him.

It’s just a business deal.

“We should probably get ready. They’re expecting us for breakfast. We already ducked out of our reception early.”

“They can wait,” he rasps.

The hand that’s not around my throat drops to my hip once more and he pulls me back from the counter, positioning me exactly as he wants me.

He releases me in favor of rubbing his hardness through my folds, testing to see if I’m ready.

“Tatum,” he groans.

I should be ashamed of how wet I am for him. But I’m not.

We might be the unlikeliest of couples after we’ve spent most of our lives hating each other, but something magical happens when we collide. Something I’m quickly becoming addicted to.

Happy that I’m ready for him, he pushes just slightly inside me.

I gasp at the intrusion. As always, it feels incredible, but it also stings.

We really went for it last night and my body is feeling it. I just hadn’t realized how much until this moment.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear.

“Y-yeah.”

“Liar,” he hisses before biting down on my earlobe and sending a rush of heat to my pussy.

“Isn’t going to stop you though, is it?”

He chuckles as he pushes deeper inside me. “You know me so well.”

He fucks me slowly—so fucking slowly it makes my head spin and my body yearn for more.

Fuck being sore. I need him to unleash on me just like last night.

“Please,” I whimper, my grip on the granite counter so tight my knuckles are white.

“Please what, baby?”

“Fuck me, please. I need more.”

Our eyes hold in the mirror as I silently plead for him to give me what I crave.

His fingers twitch around my throat before he releases me, and disappointment floods through my veins. But then he wraps a hand around one of my wrists and then the other, plucking them from the counter and pulling them behind my back.

My body tenses to stay in position, and Kingston groans as I grip his cock tightly in the process.

“Damn, Tate,” he mutters, holding both of my wrists behind my back in one hand before the other returns to my throat. “Fuck, you just gushed,” he gasps in surprise. “You like that?”

I nod—not that it’s necessary.

“Dirty, dirty girl,” he muses darkly, nothing but unfiltered heat and awe in his eyes.

My lids lower as he circles his hips, hitting me so deeply I feel it in every inch of my body.

“Eyes on me, Brat,” he demands. “Watch as your husband fucks you.”

“Oh god,” I whimper, forcing my eyes open.

His grip on my throat tightens as his powerful thrusts pick up pace.

My release surges forward, my greedy pussy trying to take him deeper.

More.

I need more.

I always need more. And that’s a real fucking problem where Kingston is concerned.

I can’t have it.

All I can have is this.

A year of this, and then he’s going to cut me free.

Send me back out into the world as if the previous twelve months didn’t mean anything.

I stare into the dark green depths of his eyes and my heart seizes in my chest.

It’s been three weeks and already I’m feeling things I told myself I wouldn’t. I’m being swept up by this man and his magnificent cock.

Already, the thought of walking away at the end of this makes my heart race, and not in a good way.

How the hell am I going to do it after a year?

A year of him worming his way under my skin?

I want to say that he’ll annoy me so much that it’ll never happen. But it already is.

It already has.

And I already know I’m not going to survive it.