Don't Touch The Bride

"This is insane," l mutter to myself, "What does he take me for? A predator? A pervert? God, it's sick."
Yes, she's technically an adult, but the twenty-year age gap makes my skin crawl. How does my father expect me to wake up next to someone barely out of high school and call her my wife?
He is unbelievable. No- ridiculous. That's the better word to describe him. What sane person finds a nineteen-year-old bride for their thirty-nine-year-old son?
Miles 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?