By His Vow: A Billionaire Arranged Marriage Romance

Nothing but the sound of the car’s engine and our increased breathing can be heard as Tatum and I continue to stare at each other.

But while I sit straight up in my seat, she’s slumping lower and lower as her inebriation gets the better of her.

A borderline unbearable level of irritation continues to bubble just beneath my skin.

It’s bad enough that she was dancing with him, that when she told me she needed me, she meant she needed him. Hell, she probably would have said it to anyone who was paying her attention, especially if she knew I was watching.

It’s why she did it, a little voice pipes up in my head.

But it doesn’t matter.

The reason behind it is pointless. She fucking did it.

And what would she have done if I hadn’t stepped in?

Would she have gone home with him?

Day one and she’d have fucked everything up.

If that was her plan, why the hell did she waste our time yesterday by signing up to a year with me?Exclusive content © by Nô(v)el/Dr/ama.Org.

“Why?” I growl, unable to keep my curiosity to myself.

“Why what?” she slurs back, her eyes narrowing in annoyance.

She thinks I’m annoying? That’s fucking rich.

“You were going to fuck him.” It’s not a question. It doesn’t need to be.

She doesn’t respond. Her glare just hardens.

“Don’t ignore me, Tatum.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought that was a statement, not a question. If you’d like an answer, maybe consider rewording your statement.”

My teeth grind and my fists curl on my lap.

This woman.

This fucking woman.

“You agreed to be faithful to me yesterday. For a year, you belong to me.”

Her lips purse in anger, but I struggle to take the look seriously when her eyes are beginning to droop with the effects of the alcohol in her system.

“I am not a thing, Kingston. I do not belong to anyone. And least of all you.”

With every word, she sinks lower in the seat.

“I am my own person. I make my own decisions. If I want to fuck anyone, then I will. The only person I won’t be fucking is you.”

My jaw begins to ache with how tense I am.

“You’re a mess,” I point out as she finally slumps to the side, her head resting on the window.

Her dress is hitched up, showing me her black lace panties beneath, and fuck if the sight of them doesn’t hit me right in the dick.

I shouldn’t be interested in this hot mess before me, but it seems my head and my dick are on two completely different pages.

Unlike her, I can do what I want with my life—and my body—over the next year.

I have free rein, while she has to remain faithful.

I shake my head as her lids lower, finally severing our connection.

“Fuck,” I breathe, lifting my hand to comb my hair back from my face.

“Everything okay. sir?” Lewis asks, his amused eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror.

“Wonderful, Lewis. Fucking wonderful.”

He chuckles to himself as the red taillights of the cars ahead of us illuminate the front of the car.

“You’ve got your work cut out with that one,” he says unhelpfully.

My eyes drop from his in favor of Tatum.

Her eyes are flickering as if she’s dreaming already and her full, red lips are parted as she sleeps.

Even wasted and exhausted she’s beautiful.

“Don’t I fucking know it,” I mutter, rubbing my jaw as I continue to study her. “What’s the news on the traffic?” I ask after a few seconds.

“No change. What do you want to do?”

Spreading my thighs wider, I sink lower in the seat and rest my head back.

I don’t want to spend all fucking night in the car, and we will if I insist on taking her home.

I shouldn’t want her there as much as I do.

“Her place is closer,” Lewis points out.

Yes. And so is her feral fucking cat. There’s no way I’m dealing with that little fucker tonight.

Its owner is enough.

“Can you take us to the Broadway?” I ask, looking out of the window to see how far we’ve already made it.

“Sure thing.”

Pulling my cell from my pocket, I find the contact I need to secure us a room for the night, and then I sit back and alternate between staring out of the window at the city and watching Tatum sleep.

I’m fucking exhausted and ready to crash by the time Lewis finally pulls up outside one of our most luxurious hotels in the city.

“Here you go, sir.”

He pushes his door open ready to help us out, but the doorman is already opening my door.

“Good evening, Mr. Callahan,” he greets. “It’s a pleasure to have you with us tonight. Can I be of assistance with your guest?” he asks politely, glancing very briefly at Tatum.

“That won’t be necessary, but thank you,” I say as I move closer to her.

Slipping my arms beneath her body, I lift her into my chest before attempting to get out of the car without sending us both crashing to the sidewalk.

“Sir, I have a blanket,” Lewis says, rushing to our side the second my feet hit the ground and covering Tatum with it.

“More than she deserves,” I mutter under my breath.

With a brief thank you, I march into the hotel, and, without stopping at reception, I head straight for the elevator.

Tatum barely makes a noise as I carry her inside. She’s dead weight in my arms, her breath tickling over my neck as she continues to sleep.

“I hope you enjoyed your night, Brat. There isn’t going to be a repeat anytime soon,” I warn despite the fact she can’t hear me.

No wife of mine is going to be going out and getting so wasted she has no idea who she’s dancing with, or whose bed she’ll end up sleeping in.

I shake my head, my grip on her tightening. I’m beyond pissed that she’d be so reckless, so careless for her own safety.

Tonight could have gone in a very different direction for her very fast.

And then what?

I let us into the best room I was able to secure at such short notice, carry her over to the bed and lay her out.

“No, Kingston,” she moans, her arms wrapping around my neck and attempting to pull me with her. “Don’t go.”

Reaching behind me, I pull her arms away and let them drop to her sides.

“I don’t think so,” I say before taking a massive step back from the bed.

I stand there for longer than I should, staring at her in a way I shouldn’t.

Her dress is now totally around her waist, letting me see just how tiny her panties are—and just how long her legs are.

I squeeze my eyes closed as I get assaulted by an image of them wrapped around my waist as I⁠—

“Fuck.”

Spinning on my heels, I march toward the bathroom, dragging my sweater off as I go.

Kicking the door closed behind me, I turn the shower on hot and shed the rest of my clothes.

With steam quickly filling the room, I step under the scalding water and tip my head into the powerful stream.

I focus on breathing, on inhaling one deep breath after the other and attempting to talk myself down.

Tatum is passed out in that bed, and it’s all I can do not to think with my dick.

Two weeks ago, it would have been easy to dump her in here on her ass and walk out without a second thought.

But that was two weeks ago.

Before I discovered what our fathers were planning.

Before Dad sat me down and explained what they wanted from me.

Before I agreed to tie myself to her for the next year of our lives.

Before I agreed to make her my wife. To be her husband.

Now…now she’s all I can fucking think about.

Mine…

She is fucking mine, and yet, she’s doing everything she can to piss me off and to prove to me that what we’ve both agreed to was the worst fucking mistake of our lives.

Only, it’s not.

For some ungodly reason, I don’t regret it.

Sure, we might only be a day in. But I already know that I’m not going to.

Life was getting mundane.

Predictable.

I worked, I fucked, I worked some more.

Rinse and repeat.

Well, Tatum has certainly stopped that merry-go-round.

In only a few hours, she fucked up my status quo and dragged me out of monotony and into a whole new world, mostly full of irritation and pent-up frustration. And should we mention desire?

Reaching out, I wrap my hand around my length.

I’m hard. Painfully fucking so. And the second I tighten my grip, a groan spills from my lips.

I stroke myself faster, my entire body locked up with my need for release.

Closing my eyes, I think about her out there in her tempting little dress.

It would be so easy to tuck my fingers under the lace of her panties and slide them down her legs. I could spread her thighs wide and take in what will no doubt be the best part of my wife.

My mouth waters just thinking about tasting her. About running my tongue through her folds and lapping at her juices.

My movements become borderline violent as my balls begin to draw up.

I imagine dropping to my knees at the end of the bed, wrapping my hands around her thighs and dragging her to me.

“Fuck. Fuuuck,” I groan, as my cock jerks in my hand and I come in the shower.

My heart pounds as I find an unfulfilling release delivered by my own hand.

“Shit,” I hiss, reaching out and resting my palm on the cool tiles.

I need more than that. More than I’m able to give myself.

More than some random woman can give me.

Without thinking, I look back over my shoulder.

I need her.

Anger surges through me and I slam my palm down on the wall.

I don’t need her.

I don’t fucking need anyone.

I’m Kingston Callahan. I already have every single thing I need.

I did this to secure Warner Group.

This is about business. Nothing else.

It is not about pleasure, or being driven to the brink of insanity by the woman out there or her fucking pussy.

Reaching for the bottle of branded shower gel before me, I angrily scrub myself, desperately trying to remove her scent from my body.

Killing the shower, I reach for a towel and wrap it around my waist.

I walk up to the sink, staring at myself in the mirror.

Lifting my hand, I push my sopping hair back from my brow and have a serious word with myself. Never before have I been so torn over what I want and what I should do.

It’s Friday night, I should be out finding a woman to warm my bed, not jerking off in the shower like a loser over a woman who drives me to the brink of insanity.

Tatum is just another woman.

Okay, so she might be the only one I’ve ever met who’s point-blank turned me down. But she is still just a woman.

She is no more special than any other.

Feeling a little better and more in control, I scoop my clothes from the floor and march out of the bathroom with my head held high.

Everything is great until I turn the corner and see her.