When I Flash-Married a Billionaire, My Ex Went on a Hunger Strike novel · Chapter 2 of 24

Chapter 2: Mrs. Greer

They marry in a clerk's office with eleven minutes to spare, and the first kiss in his kitchen turns into her first release in days.

The clerk's office opened at eight.

We were at the counter at seven fifty-one, because Lachlan had called in his favor from the hospital parking lot.

The judge who owed him came out in a cardigan and a coat she hadn't buttoned.

"You operated on my husband for nine hours," she told him. "Whatever this is, you get it."

She waived the waiting period with one signature.

I stood in a borrowed grey hoodie with my wrists wrapped, and Lachlan stood in his scrubs with a stethoscope still around his neck.

No flowers, no ring, no music.

"Do you, Lachlan Greer, take this woman?"

"I do," he said, and he looked at me while he said it.

"Do you, Mina Pemberton, take this man?"

My voice came out hoarse and clear.

"I do."

At eight-ten the clerk stamped a certificate, and my father's hold form was just paper.

My phone, the one I had stolen from the cellar, was dead in my pocket.

I felt almost drunk on being legally my own.

Lachlan drove me home in a ten-year-old Volvo with a cracked dashboard and a coffee cup rolling around the floor.

"It's small," he said, at a red brick building on Chase Street. "Fourth floor. No elevator that works. I'm sorry."

"I spent nineteen days in a cellar."

"Then it's an upgrade."

I laughed.

It hurt my ribs.

I kept laughing anyway, up four flights of stairs, until he unlocked a door and stood back to let me in.

His flat was a long room of books, a worn green couch and a kitchen with a scarred wooden counter.

It smelled like coffee and clean laundry.

I turned around in the middle of the floor and found him very close.

"You didn't have to do that," I said.

"I know."

"Why did you?"

"Because your father was reading a form aloud to a woman who'd been tied up for nineteen days." His voice was low. "And because when I took your pulse, you held on."

My face went hot.

"I didn't know I did."

"You did. It was the best thing that happened to me this month."

I stepped into him.

I put both bandaged hands flat on his chest and felt his heart under the scrub top, hard and fast.

It wasn't steady at all.

"Lachlan," I said.

"Mina."

"Kiss me. Not carefully."

He did.

He lifted my face with one hand and kissed me with his whole mouth, and I opened for him at once.

He tasted like hospital coffee and mint.

My back hit the kitchen counter.

His hands slid under the hoodie, huge and warm against my ribs, and I made a sound I didn't recognize.

"Say it again," he said against my jaw.

"Not carefully."

He pulled the hoodie over my head.

Under it I wore a hospital gown knotted at the back.

He undid the knot with two fingers.

The gown dropped.

His hands stopped at my hips.

"Mina."

"What?"

"You're beautiful," he said, rough. "Don't argue."

I didn't.

I hooked my fingers into the waist of his scrubs and tugged.

He lifted me onto the counter, the wood cold under my thighs.

He knelt on the kitchen floor.

"I'm going to put my mouth on you," he said. "Tell me what you want."

"Everything. Now."

He put his hands under my knees and spread me wide on the counter, and his breath touched me first.

Then his tongue.

One long slow stroke from my entrance to my clit, and I gripped the edge of the counter so hard the gauze creaked.

"Oh God."

"There it is."

He did it again, the flat of his tongue pressing hard, and my hips came off the wood.

He pinned them with one forearm.

He was not gentle and he was not rushed.

He found my clit and circled it, slow and wet, and then sucked it between his lips until my head hit the cabinet behind me.

"Lachlan."

"Good," he said into my skin. "That's it, Mina. Just like that."

His praise went through me.

I tangled both hands in his hair and pulled, and he groaned against me, and the sound shook me all the way up.

Two of his fingers slid inside.

They were thick and they curled up exactly where I needed them, and I heard myself say, "Yes, yes, please."

"Look at me."

I looked down.

His hazel eyes were on mine over the swell of my thigh, dark and steady, his mouth shining.

It was the most erotic thing I had ever seen.

"You're going to come on my mouth," he said. "And then we're going to find out what else you can do."

He licked me again, and his fingers pushed deep, and the pleasure tightened in my belly until it had nowhere to go.

I came with a cry that cracked halfway through.

My thighs shook around his head.

He didn't stop until I'd sagged against the cabinet, loose and gasping, with tears running down my face I hadn't known were there.

He stood up.

He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and looked at me.

"Hey," he said softly. "Hey. I've got you."

I wrapped my legs around his waist and felt him through the thin scrub fabric, hard against my wet thigh.

"I want the rest," I said.

He picked me up off the counter.

"Bed," he said.

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