I’d pushed her, taken her to places she hadn’t expected to go, hadn’t wanted to admit she could go. And now, as I watched her, utterly spent, I couldn’t ignore the surge of protectiveness that swelled in my chest.
She didn’t deserve this chaos I’d pulled her into.
“You okay?” The words left my lips before I could second-guess them.
Her eyes fluttered open, those piercing orbs of hers hazy and dazed. She looked at me for a moment, as though trying to decide if my question was genuine. “I’m fine,” she muttered hoarsely.
I wasn’t convinced. I could feel the undercurrent of exhaustion in her, the vulnerability she was trying so hard tohide. Sitting up, I grabbed the blanket tangled at the bottom of the bed and pulled it over her, tucking it gently around her shoulders.
“You’re shaking,” I said softly, running a hand over her arm. Her skin was cool to the touch, and the way her body trembled only deepened the guilt gnawing at my chest.
“I’m not cold,” she said even as she curled into the blanket. Her voice held its usual bite, but there was a softness to it, a crack in the wall she always kept between us.
“Humor me,” I murmured, shifting closer. “Let me take care of you.”
She blinked, clearly startled by the words, and I hated how foreign they sounded even to me. It wasn’t in my nature to take care of someone. It wasn’t in my blood. But with her, everything was different. She made me want things I shouldn’t want, feel things I couldn’t afford to feel.
I rose from the bed, ignoring the ache in my limbs as I crossed to the bathroom. The light was dim, just enough to see by as I dampened a washcloth with warm water. I returned to the bed, kneeling beside her as she watched me with wary eyes.
“What are you doing?”
“Cleaning you up. Just relax.”
She didn’t protest, though the tension in her body told me she wanted to. I started with her face, wiping away the sheen of sweat from her forehead and cheeks, trying to offer her something I rarely gave anyone—gentleness.
Her eyes fluttered closed, and I couldn’t help but notice the way her features softened when her defiance faded. I moved lower, running the cloth over her neck and shoulders, careful not to linger too long.
“You don’t have to do this,” she murmured.
“I know.”
I continued down her arms, then her torso, being mindful of every movement. When I reached her thighs, she stiffened slightly, her eyes snapping open to meet mine.
“Raffaele,” she said in warning.
“I’ll be careful,” I promised, holding her gaze. “Trust me.”
She nodded hesitantly, her body relaxing by degrees. I worked slowly, the warm cloth gliding over her skin as I cleaned away the evidence of our passion. She shivered beneath my touch, and I couldn’t tell if she was simply sensitive from orgasming, or if it was deeper than that.
When I was finished, I tossed the cloth aside and pulled the blanket back over her, tucking it around her body. Her expression was unreadable, but I could feel the flicker of gratitude through the bond.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she said again, softer this time.
“I know.” I brushed a lock of hair from her face. My fingers lingered for a moment too long, tracing the curve of her cheek before I pulled back. “But you’re mine, Vivian. That means I take care of you.”
She looked like she wanted to argue, then thought better of it. Instead, she let out a soft sigh, her eyes drifting closed. For once, she didn’t fight me, didn’t push me away.
I stayed beside her, sitting on the edge of the bed as I watched her breathing even out, the tension melting from her body. She looked so small like this, so fragile, and it twisted something deep inside me.
I climbed into bed next to her, my body curling protectively around hers. I couldn’t have fought the instinct even if I’d wanted to. As I pulled her close, our breaths synchronized, the rise and fall of our chests matching, and I felt the steady rhythm of her heartbeat align with mine.
24
RAFFAELE
The morning light filtered through the heavy drapes of my office, illuminating nothing but my ever-growing frustration. I sat behind my desk, the tension radiating off me like heat from an open flame. My thoughts were a knotted mess full of Vivian. Her lips. Her taste. The heat of her around me. Those sexy fucking sounds I’d drawn out of her.
I clenched my fists, willing the memories away. It wasn’t the first time I’d taken control, broken someone’s defenses. But it was different when I could feel her emotions as if they were my own. The bond we shared hummed with every fleeting thought of her. And gods help me, what I felt went deeper than desire and was more dangerous than anger.
