Shotgun Wedding: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance

by Natasha Tanner

  "What the hell, Gray!"

  "Language, babes."

  "Sorry. What the fuck are you doing?!"

  He turns around and grins, his smile perfect, his gray eyes shining and full of love. "Kidnapping you. Shotgun wedding, take two."

  "I can't believe it!" I shriek.

  Instead of congregating at the bar, everyone from O'Malley's has been packed into St. Ignatius Vasily Catholic Church. And instead of me being trapped in the bathroom for an hour, Elle was waiting for me in a nice basement room, with a beautiful satin maternity dress. Mandy from Giselle's Boutique was there, still drinking champagne straight from the bottle—"You can't have it!" she'd joked—and she hemmed and fitted the dress as I wore it.

  "This was your mother's, right?" Elle said, placing a long, Old-World lace veil on my head.

  And that's when I started crying.

  Bawling.

  Hormones and, let's face it, snot everywhere.

  I pull it together just enough to walk down the aisle with Elle at my side.

  "New suit," I say as I step up to take my place at Gray's side. "How long have you known this was going to happen?"

  Gray leans down to kiss my cheek. "Oh, a couple months. Seven years—and a couple months."

  Then he smiles, tells me I'm beautiful in Russian—he's been giving me lessons, with a really inventive, dirty and delicious grading system—and kisses me again. Right on the lips.

  Father Anthony clears his throat. "Grayson, it's not time for that yet."

  Gray smiles down at me, and my whole world lights up. "That's alright, Father. We've been doing everything backwards, but it's working out so far."

  Epilogue

  Kat

  "That—" Gray thrusts harder, his massive cock stretching me, filling me.

  "Was—" He leans down, suckles my breast, teasing then lightly biting my nipple until I cry out.

  "The second most—" He raises my leg up and over his shoulder, then hammers home right on my G-spot. How the hell does it find it? Every damn time?

  "Delicious meal I've ever had in my life!" Gray's jaw is clenched, his perfect chest and abs covered with a light sheen of sweat. He leans down and takes control of my mouth, rocking me with every hard thrust, making me gasp in pleasure, and then stealing my cries with each kiss.

  He looks like a dirty, dirty sex god.

  "Shh, don't wake the kids," Gray growls against my lips.

  But he doesn't exactly talk like one anymore.

  He talks like any other father of two little girls and one baby boy—in other words, he speaks like a man who values the time his children are asleep.

  I moan and throw my head back, the orgasm building and building.

  "It's your fault," I gasp. "You—keep—making me—come!"

  I shout his name as I explode, his cock driving home faster and faster as I convulse around him. A heartbeat later he follows, shouting—just as loud as me, might I add—and holding me tight.

  I smile and listen to his heart, beating in his chest. It's one of the best sounds in the world.

  Then it hits me.

  "Wait a minute—it was the second most delicious dinner you've ever had?"

  I'd spent hours in the kitchen today, testing out new recipes for my Café. After graduating from culinary school, I'd kind of gotten side-tracked with the birth of Mirabelle.

  And then, because I am married to an irresistible sex god who loves the idea of keeping me barefoot and pregnant, I got knocked up with our adorable daughter number two, Tessie.

  Rowan came next, though Gray insisted on giving him not one, but two multi-syllabic Russian middle names. I told Gray he can help poor Rowan when he has to learn how to write all that down in grade school.

  After that, I told Gray I'd be happy to be barefoot and in the kitchen—just minus the whole “pregnancy” part. He didn't argue, as he was busy birthing his "babies"—his construction company and his recycling company.

  We were a legit family now, with legit business interests. Gray didn't give me too many details, but when he went to work now, he didn't carry a gun.

  Well, most of the time.

  And I'd decided that cooking in a professional kitchen every weekday, weekend night, holiday and Holy Day meant I'd never get to see my kids. Or my Russian sex god.

  So I'd started a very small café. It was next to O'Malley's. It was open for brunch and lunch, and it served an Americanized twist on classic French food…with borsht. In honor of my husband.

  I'd just spent all day creating a new menu, which I'd fed to Gray for our fifth-year anniversary dinner.

  "You cleaned every plate," I protest. "You literally licked every plate clean. How can you say it was the second-best meal you ever ate?"

  Gray props himself up and smiles down at me, adoringly.

  Then he gets a wicked look in his eye.

  "Because this—" he rears back, throws my thighs wide, then nestles between them. "—is the most delicious thing I've ever tasted."

  I bite my lip and fall back on my pillow.

  Who can argue with that?

  About Natasha Tanner

  Natasha Tanner is a hopeless romantic. She loves to write about bad boys, and her stories always wind up with a happy ending…after some steamy moments. She resides in Vermont and hopes you enjoy every one of her books as she strives to become a full-time writer.

  Please see my Author Central Account on Amazon for a full list of my titles and follow me on Facebook.

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  About Ali Piedmont

  Ali Piedmont has worked as a writer, blogger, editor, book reviewer and mom – but she loves writing romance novels more than anything! Well, okay, her husband and kids rank pretty high up there, too.

  Ali writes the romance novels she loves to read, with smart heroines, sex-god heroes, a little bit of angst and a lot of laughs. (And a lot of sex. Let’s be real.)

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  Also by Natasha Tanner

  Bad Patient

  Is he too good to be true … or is she?

  Jess:

  I’ve spent the last year paralyzed by grief and guilt.

  I need a way out, but there’s nothing I can do.

  The man in my ICU says he’s innocent.

  He says he needs me.

  He even says he’s in love with me.

  They say he's a dangerous man. That he's mix up with the mob.

  I want to believe him.

  But is that only because I want him?

  Brody:

  I do need her … more than she knows.

  Maybe even more than I know.

  I’ve got a job to do, and I can’t tell her everything.

  She wouldn’t like it if I did.

  But she's the only one who can get me out of here. I have to trust her. It's against the rules for me to want her. But it’s way too late for that.

  Excerpt

  In the afternoon I accompanied one of the nurse’s assistants into Brody's room, along with the cop who was on duty, and waited while he changed the sheets and cleaned the room. Then after everybody was gone, I changed Brody’s dressing and looked at his chart.

  “It looks like you’re scheduled for a sponge bath this afternoon,” I said as I cleaned the wound and looked at it for any signs of infection.

  “Sounds refreshing.
Especially if you’re the one that’s going to be giving me the bath,” he said with a big grin on his face.

  I started to feel my face get warm and I was mortified to realize that I was blushing. This was my job and suddenly I wasn’t able to keep my feelings in check. There was just something about him that made me feel giddy.

  I was startled to realize that my heart rate would elevate whenever I came anywhere near his room which wasn’t a very good sign since I was going to be spending twelve hours a day with him every day for the next week. I really needed to keep up a certain level of professionalism.

  "Yes, Mr. Carmichael, I'm the one that's going to be giving you your bath."

  “Oh, we’re back to Mr. Carmichael now are we?" he said as he grabbed his stomach like he had just been punched in the gut. "What happened to Brody?"

  “Alright, Brody," I said with a smile as I taped up the gauze on his rippled stomach.

  Come on, Jess. Hold it together. You’re a professional nurse, I told myself, but I could still feel the color staining my face.

  "Ok, just relax. I'll be back in a second with the water," I said as I grabbed a basin and took it into the bathroom.

  "Is there anything you want me to do to get ready for you?” I heard him say from the other room.

  "No, I think I’ve got this covered."

  I looked at myself in the mirror as I filled up the basin and tried to plan out my strategy.

  Just don't look at his face. You can do this. You don't know this guy at all and you can’t let him get to you. Just go in, wash his body really fast, and leave. Five minutes tops.

  I gripped the sides of the sink and took a few deep breaths, then carried the basin into the other room without looking him in the eyes once.

  “The water should be warm enough, but let me know if you need it hotter or colder. Now, I’m going to start with your chest and your arms so I’m going to pull your gown down. Here’s a blanket to cover yourself with, if you’d like,” I said as I unfolded a blanket and placed it over Brody’s legs.

  “I’m perfectly fine,” he said with a smile still plastered on his face. When I pulled the gown down off his shoulders and freed his left arm he put it behind his head. He looked like he was enjoying himself immensely and for some reason that made it even harder for me to focus.

  I pulled the gown out from under him and brought it down to just below his bandage, and left it there because his cuffed hand prevented me from removing it entirely. When my gaze moved back up from the gown I had a hard time not staring at his beautifully sculpted chest and it took me a second to remember what I was doing. I took a washcloth from the pile on the table and wet it with the soapy water then held it out to him.

  “You can use this on your face, and I’ll put a towel down for you to dry off with.”

  “It would be easier to do this without the handcuffs,” he said as he took the washcloth and wiped his face down.

  “I can ask the cop to remove them, but I’m sure he’d insist on staying in the room.”

  “Yeah, don’t bother. I don’t want him in here watching me get a bath. I’ll suffer through it with the cuffs on,” he said with a smile as he rubbed the wet washcloth all over his face and neck, and I just stood there like an idiot watching him. When he was done he handed it back to me and dried off his face, then put his arm back behind his head, smiling and looking like he couldn’t wait to see what was going to happen next.

  I dipped the washcloth in the water again and pulled his arm down to his side, then ran the soapy water from his well-developed shoulder down his arm to his hand. I was amazed by his arms. They were long and kind of wiry, but they were also very muscular and strong. My face was starting to feel really warm again and I wished that the windows in this hospital opened more than two inches. I dried off Brody’s arm and then ran the warm washcloth along his armpit and down the side of his body.

  “Is the water warm enough?" I asked, hoping to break the uncomfortable silence.

  "Yeah, that feels really nice, Jess,” he said. I could feel him watching me as I worked but I was terrified of looking up into his eyes. I had given hundreds of sponge baths throughout my career and I didn’t understand why this one was so different. I didn’t understand why he was effecting me the way he was.

  He’s just some guy, Jess. Just a guy that’s handcuffed to the bed for crying out loud. But what if he’s innocent … I thought as I continued to get hotter under my scrubs.

  I barely knew this man that everyone was saying could be a dangerous criminal, and yet whenever I knew I was going to be near him my heart started racing. The minute I opened the door to his room my stomach would jump up into my throat the way it had when I was in high school whenever I saw a boy in the hallway that I had a crush on.

  I had been a long time since I had felt this way. I didn't understand how I could feel like this about someone I knew absolutely nothing about - other than what he had told me about the job at the resort and the story about his parents of course. But there was something about him, something about his stories and the way he talked and listened to me that made me want to trust him. I didn’t care what the cops suspected. I didn’t think Brody was mixed up with the mob.

  I washed one leg then moved to the opposite side the bed and took care of his other arm and leg. Then I rewet the washcloth and ran it down his chest. I watched the water glisten over the ripples of muscle on his chest and partway down his abdomen. When my eyes moved past the bandage to the gown gathered below I stopped. I dreaded having to pull the gown down any further. I knew where my movements were heading and I felt silly but suddenly I became incredibly shy.

  "Seems like you’ve had quite a bit of practice at this," Brody said. I jumped a little when I heard his voice and walked back to the other side of the bed to camouflage my reaction.

  “It’s not usually my job, but yes, I have given quite a few. Mostly when I was doing home health care and in my early months in the ICU,” I said hoping the conversation would continue. The silence and suspense over removing his gown were just about killing me.

  "Well, it feels nice. I think you're doing a really good job," Brody said with a smile, his white teeth showing even though he still looked very weak. I was being ridiculous and I knew I just needed to finish my job. I grabbed the gown and pulled the upper half back up over his chest, then quickly, like pulling off a bandage, I pulled the bottom of the gown up and exposed what appeared to be the most enormous cock I had ever seen in my life.

  I turned back to the basin of water and stood there for a moment while I tried to catch my breath. As hard as I tried I could not turn back around and face Brody.

  “Why don’t you use the railing on the other side of the bed and pull yourself over so I can wash your back.

  “If I didn't know any better, Jess, I'd say your face is turning a little red through that gorgeous caramel colored skin of yours. Are you sure this isn’t your first time?” he asked in an incredibly sexy tone that made me want to disappear under the bed and never come out.

  "Of course not, Mr. Car … er … Brody. I’d like to wash your back now if you think you’ll be able to hold yourself up on your side.” I was so embarrassed I just wanted to get out of his room but I still had a while to go before I was done with the bath.

  “Sure, maybe you could give me a hand …” he said as he started to pull himself over.

  “Yes, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for you to do it yourself. I don’t know what I was thinking,” I said as I pushed his hip over so that he was laying on his side. I was acting like a teenager and I was ashamed of myself.

  I finished washing Brody’s backside, then let him down easy so that he was laying on his back again, but now I was faced with the dreaded area again. And to my complete horror, when I placed the wet washcloth over his penis he started to get hard.

  “Sorry about that. You know what warm water and gentle hands can do to a guy,” he said with a soft laugh and when I looked up into his eyes they were almost
completely black. He was staring at me so intently that I almost couldn’t look away, but I forced myself to. I made myself run the warm washcloth up and down the length of his hard cock and down around his balls without going into cardiac arrest. I didn’t say another word or look back up into his eyes while I dried him off and pulled his gown down. I covered him up with the blankets and dumped the basin in the bathroom, then grabbed the laundry bin and walked out the door.

  It took me almost five minutes to catch my breath once I ducked into the utility closet to dispose of the basin and the laundry bag. I stood there against the wall shaking and holding my chest, trying to figure out why that man had such a strong effect on me.

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  They call me heartless. But that's just because I always get what I want. And now I want her.

  Devlin Masters has spent his entire life in the service of his family's business empire, working his way up from the mailroom to the boardroom of Masters In Style. As C.E.O. and heir to the billion-dollar hair-care company, Devlin's life is consumed by his work. But when a rival orchestrates his downfall, Devlin must rehabilitate his image or lose control of his cherished company.

  Then he meets Ayron. He instantly wants her curvy body. He soon appreciates her mind just as much. But what if she wants his heart?

  His father hired me to help him. He’s not supposed to know about this deal. I can't fall in love with him. I've got to be heartless.