By His Vow: A Billionaire Arranged Marriage Romance

The second Cory disappears, I mourn the loss of his body heat against mine.

It’s stupid. I’m hot and sweaty; the last thing I need is another person pressed up against me. But while he’s—anyone’s—touching me, reality is pushed to the edge of my peripheral. Nice and blurry, thanks to the tequila.

It’s what I need.

I continue dancing, watching Lori with Matt who turned up only minutes ago. This is the first time I’ve met him, yet I feel like I know him after everything she’s told me. Thankfully, he looks just like his profile picture, and we can only hope that his personality follows suit. My girl’s heart can’t take another knocking.

I’m lost in thoughts of them when a pair of hands grasp my hips and I’m pulled back into a hard, hot body.

I tense for a beat, but when the confident grip on my body doesn’t falter, I relax.

“That was fast,” I say as my head falls back against his shoulder, my eyes closed as I absorb the feeling.

A deep groan rumbles beside my ear and damn if the noise doesn’t trigger something inside me.

A deep, desperate ache makes itself known.

I shouldn’t do it. I know I shouldn’t. Lori’s warning from earlier rings loudly in my ears, as does the knowledge that he’s here.

He was upstairs watching me. I know he was.

Maybe he still is…

Fuck it. I need this.

My hips roll, grinding my ass against his crotch.

He groans again, making heat flood my core.

I can always rely on Cory. Not only is he an incredible person, but he is always willing to do whatever it takes to make me happy, and of course, I do the same in return.

As my movements get more obvious, his hands slip from my hips and slide up the indent of my waist.

Everyone dancing around us fades into the distance as I completely hand myself over to him.

I gasp loudly when his thumbs brush the underside of my breasts. I’m wearing a padded bra beneath my dress—my breasts are too big to go untamed—but his touch is so potent, it’s like no fabric exists.All content is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

“Oh my god,” I whisper, the quiet words getting swallowed by the loud, pounding music surrounding us.

Hot breath rushes over my ear, sending a wave of desire so strong down my body that it’s a miracle I don’t drop to my knees right here and now and get things moving along.

He wants it. I can feel the thickness of his cock pressing against my ass.

“You’re a bad girl, Tatum Warner,” he warns darkly in my ear.

Something flickers deep in my subconscious, but the tequila is strong enough for it to be almost instantly forgotten.

Needing more, I wrap my fingers around his wrists and give him little choice but to take my breasts in his hands.

He groans, and I pant like a whore as he squeezes me with the most dizzying pressure.

“Yes,” I cry. “I need you. I⁠—”

My words are cut off as I’m turned around. The world spins, my vision blurring. But that’s all forgotten when my front is pinned to the hard planes of his.

“Did you want to say that to my face, baby?”

My heart stops.

Sucking in a breath, I force my eyes to focus, and I find a dark gray, designer sweater in front of me.

Cory wasn’t wearing a sweater. He…

My pulse races, my body temperature soaring to dangerous levels as reality rushes through me.

I wasn’t dancing with Cory, and I just told Kingston that I need him.

But not him.

I told him that I needed someone else.

I. Am. So. Fucked.

Swallowing thickly, I refuse to look up, shame burning through me.

How is it that just with a few words and what I’m sure is a dark glare, he can make me feel like a naughty child?

“Look at me, brat,” he demands, and the shock of his words ensures that I do just that.

My breath catches when my eyes lock on his dark and angry green ones.

I stare at him, my mouth running dry.

It’s not fair that he’s so hot. Why couldn’t God gift these looks to someone a little less…asshole-ish.

His eyes crinkle. “Because God knows someone nice wouldn’t make the most of them.”

Oh shit. Fuck.

“I’m going to ask you again, Tatum, and you’re going to give me the right answer.’ The way he says my name makes every muscle south of my waist clench tightly.

He leans in. My heart kicks into overdrive as his breath fans my face as if he’s coming in for a kiss.

I know he’s not, but that doesn’t stop my tongue from sneaking out and wetting my lips in preparation.

He smirks, knowing exactly where my mind went.

“Did you want to say that to my face, baby?”

The words, his voice, hit exactly the same as they did the first time he said them. They shouldn’t. I’m now aware that they’re coming out of his mouth not Cory’s, but fuck.

My nostrils flare with irritation as he holds my stare strong.

“Get fucked,” I hiss, standing up to him.

“We’re leaving,” he states, his hand wrapping around my wrist before tugging me forward.

I wobble on my heels and crash into his hard body, my hand on his lower stomach. His muscles ripple beneath his sweater and I mindlessly slide my hand lower to feel something else equally as hard.

He stares down at me, I’m sure more than aware of my plans, but it’s not until I hit his belt buckle that he stops me.

“You might be willing to embarrass yourself in public, Tatum. But I am not.”

He takes off again, towing me along with him.

“Wait, I need to say goodbye to⁠—”

I glance back to see Lori staring after me, her body still pressed against Matt’s. She smirks before looking back at Kingston.

‘Enjoy,’ she mouths before spinning around and reaching up on her toes to kiss him again.

Cory is nowhere to be seen, but I’m confident that Lori will let him know I’m safe and he’ll find someone else to spend the night with.

Despite what Lori said in the bathroom, Cory is more than happy to sow his wild oats. It isn’t me he wants. Not really. I’m just easy…in more than one way.

A laugh tumbles from my throat as we emerge at the entrance of the club.

“Do you have a coat?” Kingston demands, bringing us to a stop.

I look up at him, at his hard expression and the irritation dancing in his dark green eyes, and my giggles only get worse.

“Aw KC,” I tease, using the nickname he goes by when he’s with his friends. “Did I embarrass you by rubbing my ass against your dick?”

“Tatum,” he growls darkly, his jaw ticking with anger.

“You enjoyed it though, didn’t you? I felt how hard you⁠—”

“Do you have a coat or not?” he interrupts, cutting me off before the small audience we’re gathering hears the end of that sentence. As if they can’t already guess.

I roll my eyes at him and I’m sure I see a little billow of steam blow from his ears.

I stare up at him, trying to hold steady and appear strong, but I’m pretty sure I’m swaying. If I’m not, then it’s the room.

“I do not have a coat, sir,” I tag on with a smirk.

“Brat,” he mutters under his breath before taking my hand and pulling me toward the exit.

The cool evening hair hits me and the world spins all over again.

I go from drunk to utterly wasted in two seconds flat.

“Oh my god, is that Kingston Callahan?” a woman cries from the line to get into the club.

A powerful shot of jealousy shoots through me, and long before I have a chance to think it through, I spin on my heels and find her in the crowd. I want to say it’s easy, but it seems that every female before me is ogling my man.

My man.

Nope. Kingston Callahan is not my man.

He’s just a man who is going to steal a year of my life when I could be out looking for the one…

“Yep, it is. But I’m sorry, he’s tak—argh,” I shriek when my feet suddenly leave the floor as the man in question throws me over his shoulder and drags me away. “What are you doing?” I cry as he begins marching down the street without a care in the world.

Cool air rushes over my ass and I reach up in a panic, wanting to cover myself up.

People posted innocent photos of him kissing my forehead this afternoon; that was nothing compared to this.

My cheeks heat as I try to imagine what we must look like, and it only gets worse when my fingers discover just how high up my dress is.

“Will you put me down?” I demand. “I’m showing the world my ass.”

“Maybe you should have thought about that before mouthing off and embarrassing yourself,” he snaps, but thankfully stops and lowers me to my feet.

“You’re not worried about me,” I spit. “The only reputation you care about is your own.”

“Get in the fucking car before I throw you in myself.”

I look forward and find Lewis idling in Kingston’s town car.

He rips the door open and none too gently shoves me inside.

I should fall into the seat and be a good girl. But that’s not who I am.

I am a bad girl. Especially when tequila is involved.

Pressing my knees to the seat that sits back-to-back with the driver, I bend over, resting my forearms on the wall that hides the privacy screen.

“Hey, Lewis,” I purr, sticking my ass up in the air as Kingston climbs in behind me. “Are you having a good night?”

He glances at me in the rearview mirror, amusement lighting up his eyes.

“I’m having a wonderful evening, Miss Warner. Are you?”

“It’s Tate,” I slur. “And yes, it’s been fantastic so far. Did you know that Kingston can dance?”

Lewis’s smirk grows.

“I did not know that.” His eyes lift to the man behind me. “Where would you like to go, sir?”

“Home, please.”

The sound of his deep voice sends a shiver down my spine.

“Tatum, sit down,” he demands.

“No can do, sir. I’m catching up with Lewis. Finding out if you’ve been nice to him this evening.”

Lewis chuckles, but I quickly discover that Kingston isn’t anywhere near as amused when a loud crack rips through the air.

Pain explodes before my ass cheek burns red hot.

“You spanked me,” I gasp, spinning around so fast I almost tumble to the floor.

“Sit down.”

In a huff, I drop into the seat I was just kneeling on, cross my arms under my tits, and glare pure death at him.

“If you’re trying to scare me, you’re going to need to do more than give me the stink eye, baby.”

“I hate you,” I seethe, as Lewis pulls away from the curb.

“Doesn’t stop you from wanting me though, does it?” he pants, mimicking my reaction when he cupped my breasts on the dance floor.

“I thought you were someone else,” I point out.

The air around us turns arctic, his eyes hardening and his fists curling at his sides.

He doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t need to.

I shiver, but it’s very different from the last one, which was full of desire.

“What’s wrong? Don’t like the concept that a woman doesn’t want you?”

“It doesn’t matter what you do or don’t want, Tatum. The only man you’re going to be touching over the coming year is me.”

“You wish,” I scoff.

“No, Tatum. I don’t wish. I know.”

Our eye contact holds, the air crackling between us, but neither of us says a word. Not until Lewis curses at the front.

“Sorry, sir. It looks like the city is in gridlock. Getting home is going to take a while.”