It’s suddenly hard to breathe. The water I poured all over Angelo has soaked me too. My shirt sticks to my chest, highlighting my red bra. Angelo looks down. His eyes darken. This is when I should shove him back or knee him in the crotch, but neither of us moves.
The chemistry sizzling between us threatens to explode, burning us both in a raging inferno. It’s a major problem. I shouldn’t find my abusive husband attractive. It must be a trauma response.
“The only reason I’d visit your bedroom at night is to stab you in the dick.”
He smirks. “I guess it’s a large enough target.”
The very hard dick pressing into my belly tells me he’s not lying.
“Really? Feels kind of small to me.”
The bastard grabs my hand and forces it between us, letting me feel exactly how thick and hard he is.
“Does abusing women turn you on?” I ask in a conversational tone. I’m fucking turned on, but I refuse to admit it.
“Fuck,” he snarls, stepping away from me and scrubbing his jaw. I watch, still shaking with adrenaline and lust, as he stalksover to the table and grabs a towel to wipe his face. Kane observes, his face blank, but I don’t miss the way his gaze lingers on my chest.
“Are we done now?” My head throbs and there are spots floating in front of my eyes. I need to lie down in a dark room for an hour.
“Yes. For now.” Like that doesn’t sound at all ominous.
Not wanting to endure any more of his bullshit, I step toward the door.
“Chiara.” My shoulders droop with exhaustion as the pain squeezes my head in a vise. Part of me wants to go to bat again, mostly to wind him up, but I’m all out of fucks to give.
“What?” There’s no fire in my voice now. Just resignation.
“Stay away from Luka.” Annoyance flares once again, obliterating some of my tiredness.
“And if I don’t?”
“Then there will be consequences.”
My bedroom is in darkness when I wake. The pain in my head has gone, replaced by nausea caused by a thoroughly empty stomach. When I check the clock, I realize I’ve slept through dinner and it’s now gone nine o’clock.
Fucking Angelo.
When I said he was lucky I’d not castrated him in his sleep, I wasn’t joking.
Deciding I need to eat something or I won’t be able to sleep another wink, I crawl out of bed and pull a robe on. The house is silent when I reach the bottom of the staircase. Even though it’s not that late, there’s no one around.
It’s dawning on me that my husband spends most of his time elsewhere. He must have a place in the city. Hell, for all I know,he has a mistress stashed away somewhere. A sexy pole dancer or, more likely, a high-society girl, much like the women we saw at the gala.
There’s no way my husband is celibate, even if he expects me to be.
I’m surprised by how much the thought of him fucking another woman irks me, even though I almost fucked Luka last night. And definitely would have if Angelo hadn’t interrupted us.
“Hey, sexy girl.” I yelp in surprise at Luka’s husky voice. He’s leaning against the door that leads into the living room, wearing nothing but a pair of faded jeans.
To my annoyance, my cheeks flush as the memory of our heated encounter hits me hard and fast.
He steps toward me, but I hurry away, heading for the kitchen before I do something dumb and climb that man like a tree. He’s much too attractive for a woman with zero self-control and an overactive libido.
“Are you avoiding me, Chiara?” His amusement warms me from the inside out as he follows me into the kitchen.
“Yes,” I admit. “Angelo said he’d murder you if I didn’t stay away.”
He laughs long and hard. “Of course he did.”
