Massimo’s jaw tightened, his fingers curling slightly on the bedspread. “It’s my room,” he replied, voice low and edged with warning.
“I don’t give a damn.” My words came out clipped, defiant, as I slammed another drawer shut.
“We need to talk.” His voice cut through the stifling quiet, but I could see the muscle pulsing in his jaw—he wasn’t as collected as he wanted me to believe.
“You’ve already said enough. Now get out.” My throat was tight, but I forced the words out before my resolve could crack.I couldn’t let him see how unsettled I felt—how his presence twisted fear and anger inside me.
Massimo rose to his full height, the floor creaking under his weight as he strode toward me. He smirked, a flash of cool indifference slicing through the tension. “No.”
I squared my shoulders and met his glare, refusing to let him see just how much I was still unraveling inside. The silence between us stretched, brittle and taut, as if the smallest word could shatter it. Whatever came next, I wouldn’t back down—not tonight.
His hand shot out and gripped my neck as he slowly dragged me toward him. My hand held tight to the towel, my only barrier between me and him. He leaned close, his breath a whisper against my skin as goosebumps erupted all over my body. My heart pounded with fear as I struggled to keep my composure, uncertain of what he would do next. He stared into my eyes with a mix of anger and desperation, searching for something I couldn’t give when his mouth slammed down on mine.
His kiss, fierce and unyielding, mirrored the way he tried to command every space he entered. The world seemed to contract until all that remained was the heat of his body pressed against mine and the frantic exchange of our breath—our gasps harsh and loud, momentarily drowning out the steady hum of the air conditioner. For a heartbeat, anger flared in my chest, a desperate urge to break free. But beneath the initial shock, longing surged up—unwanted, undeniable—until I was caught between the urge to shove him away and the ache that begged me to stay. I was painfully aware of the tension twisting inside me, each emotion clawing for dominance, and the confusion tasted sharp on my tongue as I hovered on the edge of surrender and resistance.
When I finally tore myself away, his grasp loosened just enough for me to slip free. The towel, cool and soft beneath mytrembling fingers, unknowingly slid from my hands and landed on the carpet between us with a hushed thud—an unspoken invitation, lingering in the charged air.
Before I could react—before I could even form a coherent thought—he pressed me hard against the wall, his mouth searing a path along my throat. Each nip, each heated kiss, sent sparks racing under my skin, and I gasped at the shocking intensity of his touch. His hands swept possessively over my body, making me shiver with anticipation and confusion. When his mouth claimed mine, his tongue tangled with mine and stole my breath, while desire warred with uncertainty inside me.
I should have pushed him away, should have broken free, but a part of me ached for the raw connection, for the wild, dizzying rush that only he seemed able to ignite. My mind spun, torn between yielding and resisting—caught in the storm of everything I felt for him, whether I wanted to or not.
His touch seared into me—a brand of fire both terrifying and magnetic. Fear pulsed beneath my skin, yet somewhere deeper, a reckless ember smoldered, refusing to be extinguished. I couldn’t understand why the same fire that fueled my earlier defiance, the same raw charge that had torn a scream from my throat, now tangled with something dangerously close to desire.
Why did his touch ignite something in me when every instinct screamed to run? Was it longing, or just the twisted comfort of danger?
The attraction I felt was jagged, dark—a reflection of the peril that surrounded me, and I was powerless against its pull, a moth circling a flame that threatened to incinerate me entirely. As his lips brushed the tender pulse of my neck, panic clawed at my chest.
I squeezed my eyes shut, desperately conjuring the memory of Oliver’s steady gaze, his gentle hands, the safety he promised with every word. But even that memory felt fragile now, stainedby the present—a faint beacon flickering in the encroaching darkness, a cruel reminder of what protection once felt like compared to the brutal reality of Massimo’s grasp.
Massimo pulled back just enough, his sapphire eyes blazing with an intensity that mirrored the collision of terror and want inside me. The air between us crackled with everything unsaid, my defenses slipping away inch by agonizing inch. When his thumb grazed my swollen lower lip, the caress sent shivers down my spine—an intimate threat, a challenge I couldn’t ignore.
“Lie to me. Tell me you want this,” he murmured; his words were a low growl that vibrated through my bones, exposing a truth I couldn’t rationalize or deny. Was it really want, or just my shattered psyche seeking comfort in chaos? My mind raced, searching for some anchor, some reason to resist, but everything was muddled, the boundaries between safety and danger dissolving with every breath. In that moment, I was caught between the fierce protection Massimo promised and the suffocating control he wielded. The paradox twisted inside me, leaving me completely undone.
My body betrayed me, responding to him despite the frantic objections of my mind. A soft moan escaped—a sound of surrender I hated myself for, yet couldn’t suppress. Massimo’s eyes flashed, catching that weakness with a predator’s satisfaction. He gripped my arm, a wicked smirk twisting his lips as he hurled me toward the bed.
The sudden jolt of the mattress snapped me partly free of the spell. I twisted, watching his approach—the measured removal of his tie, his shoes kicked aside, jacket shrugged off—the ritualistic shedding of pretense. Every motion was deliberate, a silent declaration of dominance. My heart thudded in my chest, equal parts dread and anticipation, and as he reached for his belt, my thoughts spiraled: What had led me here? Was this the echo of past wounds, the imprint of Oliver’s gentlenessnow warped by my desperation for connection? One question in particular haunted me—was I seeking love, or just the most vivid distraction from my pain?
Stunned, I couldn’t move. My gaze locked on every calculated gesture. Massimo stripped away the last layer of civility, baring a physique carved by power and intent. His possessive stare sent chills down my spine, terror and desire entwining until I no longer knew which ruled me. A trembling voice in the back of my mind pleaded for escape, but my body stilled, rooted by his magnetic control. Somewhere beneath the terror, a part of me wondered if this was all I’d ever know—passion and pain fused together, memory and longing warring for control.
The slow unbuttoning of his shirt tightened the vise of anxiety around my throat. I drew in ragged breaths, paralyzed, a silent scream locked inside my chest. I wanted to fight, to break free, but my limbs felt leaden, haunted by every past moment when fear had eclipsed hope. Oliver’s gentle touch, his whispered promise of safety, were now distant stars—faint and unreachable against the storm that was Massimo. I was truly helpless, and some broken part of me craved the very chaos that threatened to destroy me.
With a flick, his shirt parted, and the hard planes of his chest, inked with tattoos, glistened in the filtered light. He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming, the air thick with the scent of expensive cologne and something wild, animalistic. My heart hammered—a desperate bird in a cage—and I closed my eyes, summoning every scrap of strength I had left.
His command shattered what little resolve remained. “Lay on the bed and spread your legs.”
My eyes flew open, a surge of resistance rising to meet the chaos.
“Excuse me?”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Massimo
She was stunning, embodying every aspect of feminine beauty that captivated my senses. Her body was a masterpiece of curves, each one inviting and irresistible, promising endless pleasure. Her hips were full and tempting, designed to be held and cherished, providing a tangible anchor in the intensity of our connection. Her breasts, perfectly shaped and alluringly firm, moved with a lively bounce that spoke of vitality and youth. The delicate pink of her nipples was striking, reminiscent of the softest shade found in the petals of a freshly bloomed rose, adding an element of innocence to her undeniable appeal.
But it was her defiance that was unmistakable—a raw, unyielding force that set her apart from anyone I had ever encountered. It was more than mere resistance; it was a rebellion that reverberated in her every action and word.
I saw the fighter she truly was, the spirit that refused to be broken or tamed. This wasn’t a passing act of stubbornness. It was a declaration, a promise that what was about to transpire between us would forge a bond she could not escape because I planned on marking her soul and binding her fate to mine forever.
