Audrey

Audrey Bridgett Collins.

I guess this is another name I have to get used to since that’s my new last name for the next five months.

It’s been two weeks since I became Micheal’s arranged wife. Saying that my nerves are haywire was an understatement. Micheal fucking Collins. Goodness, he knows how to heat up a woman.

When I’m out with him, it's easy. But when we’re inside and alone, that’s what’s hard. Every night made me want to forget about those stupid rules I made and give in to my want for him. It’s wrong. So, so, wrong. I know. I shouldn't want him this badly. I should be able to contain myself. Have some pride. But fuck, he’s intoxicating.

Now we are on our way to his house. After hours of shopping for me, Micheal has decided to return, due to someone needing him. I frown as he turns down the street. “What exactly is the mafia? A gang designed to murder and steal from innocent people? To con and manipulate the police department who saves lives every single day?”

He glances at me for a second before bringing his attention back to the road. After a few seconds, he glances at me again, a sly smile on his face. “That’s what you think it is?”

My frown grows. “Is it not? I mean, have you guys ever thought of the trouble you put police officers through? Take my father, for instance. He has been a police officer since before I existed. He has seen some of the scariest people to walk this earth. You guys can’t give him a break? Can’t you talk to your boss or something, Micheal?"

He doesn’t reply as I sit in confusion. As we arrive at his driveway, my eyebrows narrow. “Micheal?”

Once the car is turned off, he faces me. The smile is erased from his face. Instead, replaced with an unreadable expression. “You’re a highly intelligent woman, Carina. You’re aware of this, correct?"

“Yes."

“Then start acting it like it.” He replies, opening the car door and walking away after he shuts it.

My mouth falls agape.

I open my door and step out of the car hastily. When I shut it, he locks the car with his keys as he continues to walk to the front door in front of me. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I shout, following behind him.

“It means use that pretty head of yours for something other than finding ways to abandon me again. “

I roll my eyes as he unlocks the door and steps inside. Guilt builds up in my stomach. “Micheal, I said I was sorry—"

He finally turns to me. He steps forward, causing my breath to hitch. I lose my track of thought as he stares at me angrily. “Let’s get one thing straight, princess; No one is innocent. I don’t know what fairytale you live in, but here in the real world, no one is fucking innocent. Secondly; Your father is no goddamn saint. In fact, the only thing that son of a bitch is a murderer and coward. Of course he wouldn’t tell you that because you're a judgemental, know-it-all, aren’t you, Carina?

My insides burn with rage. Not because of what he said. But because deep down, hidden underneath all the good things my father has done for me, I knew. I knew how cruel he was. It was the reason Mom left.

“Don’t speak about my father that way, Micheal. That’s not right and you know it.’’

He smirks and nods as he shoves his hands in his pants pockets and begins walking to the living room. “Right." he says. Micheal takes a seat on the sofa as I stand in front of him. His eyes run down my body slowly before he brings his gaze back to mine. He removes a lighter from his pocket and points it at me. “And you ditching your best friend without having the decency to tell him why, is just top notch kindness right? Your father is a fucking coward, baby. I said what I said.”

I want to hit something.

I want to hit someone.

I forgot how nonchalant and rude Micheal could be when someone said something he didn’t like. Right now, I could tell he saw how angry I was. I was infuriated. Mostly at myself.

“Micheal.” I exhale a deep breath. “Stop it. I said I was sorry. I don’t expect for you to forgive me and I don’t even expect you to trust me. But if you’re going to be mad at someone, be mad at me. Not my father.”

He folds his hands. “Why did you leave? Was it because I fucked your friend? Which one? Rachel or Jenny?" He smiles. He was trying to get under my skin. Trying to piss me off. And it was working like hell. “Oh, I know. It was because of Sarah, wasn’t it? She was a tight one, sweetcakes. Fuck, she was good-”

“Joder, Michael, ¿podrías detenerlo?” I place my hands slightly apart, acting as if I am choking him. “¡Cabrón desconsiderado! ¡Podría matarte ahora mismo! ¡Dios, te odio! Dios mío, ¿alguna vez te callas la boca?”

He stares at me with a smile. Micheal only chuckles as a response to my outburst, which only increases my anger. I step forward and fold my arms. “What the hell is so funny?” I ask, my breathing growing heavier.

He shakes his head, shoving his fist halfway into his mouth. I can tell he is trying to hold in the laugh that wants to escape so badly, another vein is forming on his arm. “Nothing.” he manages to say.

I step closer, my fist clenching. “No. Tell me. What’s so funny, Micheal? Does being an ass-hat amuse you?”

This breaks his hold. His fist falls out of his mouth and he wheezes. Micheal slaps his thigh, a deep laugh leaving his lips. “I know this is supposed to be our first fight, but you should see your face.” he stands up and folds his arms. Micheal clenches his fist and smiles. “What the hell is so funny?” he mocks, his voice a horrible impersonation of mine.

Unwillingly, a chuckle escapes my mouth as well. I quickly put a straight face on and roll my eyes. "Te odio.” I mumble.

I turn around and begin walking away as his laugh grows louder, and he follows behind me. “It’s adorable, really.” I reach his bedroom — which is now our bedroom. It’s going to take me a while to get used to this whole arranged marriage thing. “Look at us. We’re already acting like a married couple, Carina.”

I roll my eyes once again and take a seat on the side of his bed. He lifts his wrist up to his eye vision and glances at his watch. Micheal grabs a spot next to me and by the slight smirk that rests on his face I know he’s about to do something stupid.

I bring my gaze to him. "Micheal—”

“Tenth grade. Boys locker room after school. Remember that?”

I shiver as his hand connects against my bare thigh. I was still in my nightgown—which I now regretted deeply. “We were stupid, stupid, children. That’s why it never happened again.”

Back in tenth grade, when life was far less complicated than it is now, Micheal and I had a moment. I guess one could call it that. I call it my first kiss and the first time I felt real butterflies. Of course it wasn’t Micheal’s.

It was after one of his football games and, as I usually did, I met him in the locker room after everyone left. He was shirtless, and I had never seen a shirtless boy before. Hell, the only touch I had felt of the opposite gender was the occasional brushes against my shoulder during passing period. I was mesmerized. He saw me staring and before I knew it, his hand was on the back of my neck and he was kissing me as if his life depended on it.

When it started to grow heavier, I broke away. I left the locker room immediately and for the next week, we avoided each other. During this time apart, I wondered why he didn’t push me away. Why he didn't stop me or even hesitate? One night, he came over to my house and apologized. I apologize as well, and after gagging and insulting each other about the kiss, we dropped it.

I push those memories aside and focus on his hand that was starting to trail up my thigh. All thoughts and remembrance to breathe goes to a halt when he cups my chin in his other hand. ‘’I’m a man now, Carina." His smirk widens, and he lets go of my chin. Only to lean forward and whisper, "And I am capable of a lot of manly things. Especially pleasuring a woman the way she clearly needs so badly.”

The cool mintiness of his breath. The warmth radiating off of his hand onto my thigh that was starting to build a wetness between my legs. His abs—at least a six pack—were visible through the white tank top he wore. The print of his size I glanced at when he wasn’t paying attention through his gray sweatpants. And the two tattoos that rested on his right arm. It was all too much.

I stand up abruptly, trying to control my racing heart. I avoid eye contact with him as I speak. “I’m going to go get dressed. I have to get to work soon.”

“I’d treat it so good, baby. So good.” he says, causing me to pause as I reach the bathroom sink.

When he follows me and stands behind me, I forget to breathe. I forget to push him away. His hands go to my hips, just above my ass. He touches me—almost as if it pains him. I watch him through the mirror as his fingers graze my hips slowly and he stares at me intensely. His hands move up my figure at a slow pace and he stops when he reaches my stomach. He leans closer, bending me over the sink just enough for his dick to graze my ass.

‘’I know you have your rules, Carina. And I respect them.” Micheal pushes the hair that falls from my shoulders to the other side of my neck. When he presses a small kiss on my neck, goosebumps run down my arms. “But fuck, it’s hard to keep my hands off of you.”

He presses another kiss to my neck. His hands move downwards as he mumbles sweet nothings against my skin, kissing it softly as he does so. I place my hands on the sink and lean forward, trying to find my breathing again. But this only adds to his advantage. Within an instant, his hard-on pressed is against me. My mouth falls open. The small touch alone is so good, I can’t stop the whimper that escapes my lips. “Micheal.’’ I say.

He leans closer, his mouth moving up to my ear, “Hmm?" he whispers, causing another shiver to go down my spine.

“We can’t."

‘’Why the hell not? You want me. You and I know both know it.’’ He kisses me behind my ear. “Or are you scared you won’t be able to stop yourself from touching me again?’’ He says and I feel him smile against my skin.

Now that makes me laugh. “Of course not. You don’t scare me. I can do just fine without touching you, Micheal.”

His head lifts and his eyes meet mine in the mirror. A smirk that had bad intentions written all over it rests on his face. “Is that a challenge?"

I match his smirk. “I guess it is.”

He nods and backs away slowly, letting his hand linger on my hip for a second. “Alright then, boss lady. Think you can go two weeks without touching me? Flirting? Thinking of me pleasuring you?"

I smile. “I know I can. What about you? I’m a little worried about you. You seem a little… weak.” I respond, just to get him worked up. The truth was, I was already starting to panic.

“Don’t you worry about me, beautiful.” He turns around and begins walking away. I take a peak of his back as he walks and instantly realize what a horrible idea this is. “Loser has to give the winner a private dance.”

I chuckle at his random reward. “Okay.”

How hard can a little dance be?

He faces me, his smirk wider. “Naked.”