Free MINE 1 by Kristina Weaver

had second thoughts.
    This, though, is just…too fast for comfort.
    “What the heck?” I yell as soon as his over confident ass comes back in the door.
    I’m still slumped at the edge of the bed where I’d fallen when my knees had given out, so when he kneels at my feet, grinning in that same way I’d seen the crazy Cammy do all night, I know my tickets been punched.
    Permanently.
    “Don’t start, love,” he warns, running his hands up my thighs and beneath the silk tap pants I’m wearing.
    “But…but this is, like, a freaking engagement ring!”
    The look he gives me says he’s not sure about my intelligence, and I whack his arm hard, letting him know how much I appreciate his messed up sense of humor.
    “I know what it is, you mook, I just don’t know why you think shoving the thing on my finger without so much as a word is acceptable. Jesus, Lucian, this is too much. I’m not ready for this type of commitment.”
    That sets off that temper of his, and he shoves to his feet to stand over me, his body one hard slab of immovable muscle. When he plants a hand on my chest and shoves me down before pinning me beneath his body, I know I’ve pissed him off beyond the point of return.
    “Ready or not, you will marry me and let me put my name on you and my lad,” he growls, shushing me with a glare. “You should have known the moment you allowed me into your body that I wouldn’t give you up. You made the choice to give yourself to me, and now that I have you I have no intention of letting go. Ever. So wrap your brain around the fact that you’re mine and move the fuck on.”
    My first inclination is to blast his ass to hell and back and tell him he’s a crazy bastard for even thinking he has the right to issue orders. I’m a modern woman; he can’t just throw a ring at me and expect to get his way in everything.
    Love or no love.
    But he doesn’t give me the chance to do anything more than moan when he seals his mouth over mine and kisses me into a writhing heap of instant need.
    An hour later my mouth is too busy screaming his name as he powers into me with a determination that leaves me blissed out and too addicted to care about his controlling ways.
    “Jesus, you’re perfect,” he groans, falling into me after an orgasm that left my toes curling. “You have to marry me, love.”
    The grin I get from him when he pulls his face out of my neck is so evil I shudder and lick my lips nervously.
    “Why?”
    “Because, my love, I’m pretty sure I just put my son inside you.”
    ***
    The next two weeks are everything I never knew I could want. Lucian is attentive and caring, and short of telling me he loves me, I almost feel like maybe he could.
    I’ve made strides with Ben, and he’s gone so far as to tell me a few things about why he turned into Rocky and wailed on the kids at his old school.
    So yeah, I feel great, and you know what? I look it. My skin’s not gray from fatigue anymore, thanks to Lucian’s insistence that I sleep in and take a nap like a five-year-old in the afternoons.
    My hair is shining because of that expensive shampoo he buys, and I’ve picked up a pound or two, making me look nicely curved instead of like a cracked out model wannabe.
    And yes, I am so married. Now, don’t get weird and all girly on my ass about not mentioning the wedding. There wasn’t one. I got hitched at the courthouse four days after he put his ring on my finger.
    With him it’s important to know that actions speak louder than words and that despite his ‘kindness’ the last few days—once again, his words, not mine—he really isn’t into wasting time.
    Why did I acquiesce and get married? Because the guy is right. We hadn’t used protection once since he’d taken me, and I’m not stupid enough to get knocked up without a ring on my finger.
    My mom raised me right.
    We haven’t had a honeymoon, though, because Lucian says that leaving Ben right now isn’t a good idea, that we need to make him