Don't Touch The Bride

Miles was livid. His father had to be joking, right? Marrying a nineteen-year-old girl? Who does that? He was twenty when she was born, for God’s sake. The very idea disgusted him. Not because of what anyone would say—Miles didn’t care about public opinion. Reclusive, cold, rude, and emotionally unavailable, he had no interest in the world’s judgment. But this? This felt wrong. He wasn’t a predator, and he sure as hell wasn’t about to marry someone two decades younger than him. But his father wouldn’t back down, and losing the company wasn’t an option. So, he reluctantly agreed. He would marry the shy, damaged girl who had survived the worst at the hands of her step-family. He made himself a promise: he wouldn’t touch her. He would protect her, not become another perverted man she’d have to fear. What he didn’t expect was how hard that promise would be to keep. She was undeniably beautiful—soft curves in all the right places, her presence igniting desires he thought he could suppress. Suddenly, Miles found himself fighting not just his morals, but his erection. But she was his wife. He could touch her, right? Or at least look? She was going to be his undoing.