His entire body tensed. “Don’t fucking say that.”
I flinched.
His eyes bored into mine. “Don’t you ever say that again. That was your fucking virginity. Itisa big fucking big deal.”
I stood there, eyes wide. “I wanted this. I wanted you to be the one.”
His jaw flexed. “You deserved more,” he said, his voice low and bitter. “A bed. Candlelight. A man who worships the ground you walk on—not a bratva thug with blood on his hands and a target on his back. Not a fuck-them-and-leave-them type of man.”
I couldn’t breathe.
“I shouldn’t have touched you,” he growled. “You didn’t know what the hell you were giving away. You think this is some dark little fantasy from one of your books?”
“I didn’t think—”
“No, you didn’t. And I didn’t ask. That’s on me.”
He scowled. “You were valuable. Do you understand? That could’ve been the only thing to keep you alive if Delgado had gotten to you.”
My stomach turned. “So what, I’m merchandise now?”
His head snapped toward me, his eyes burning. “No,” he growled. “Don’t twist my words.” He stepped in closer. “But to men like Delgado? Yeah. Your virginity would’ve put an even higher price on your head. That’s the kind of value they see—cash, control, power.”
His lip curled in disgust.
“But me?” he said, his voice dropping to a rasp. “That’s not what I’m about.”
He looked away for half a second, then back at me—like he hated what he was about to admit.
“I meant that…there’s something sacred about being someone’s first. About knowing no other man has touched you. That no one else has made you cry out his name, left his scent on your skin. It’s not just sex. It’s trust.”
His voice was barely above a whisper now. “And I stole that from you like it was nothing. Like I had the right.”
I couldn’t breathe.
He looked down at the water swirling around our feet and cursed under his breath. “I fucked up. I didn’t even think…not for a goddamn second. I thought you were experienced—well-experienced. After watching the way you moved at the club, the way you danced, I figured—” He cut himself off and shoved a hand through his soaked hair.
“You deserved to have a man who would take his time and make sure you were ready. I’m the last man you should have given that most precious gift to. I don’t do relationships, and I’m not the husband type. My world is much too dangerous.”
With that, he stepped out of the shower. Water streamed off his body in thick rivulets as he reached for a towel and wrapped it low around his hips, the muscles in his back flexing with every movement.
“I’ll find someone to take you off my hands,” he muttered. “Someone decent. Someone who can give you the kind of life you deserve. I can’t do that.”
A hollow pain cracked through my chest. I clutched the bar to steady myself. “Wow. That’s…noble. So what, I’m a mangy mutt now? Need a nice little shelter to take me in?”
He paused at the door, his back still to me.
“Go to hell,” I spat, the heat returning to my voice—my defense mechanism. “You’re right—you’re not the man I deserve. You’re selfish and psycho and completely fucked in the head.”
He turned just enough for me to see the hard line of his jaw.
“You’re right.”
I shivered, despite the heat of the water, from the sudden void between us.
He stepped forward, grasped the door handle firmly, and then said coolly, “Please don’t try to escape again, Lyla. Delgado’s men are everywhere. You’re worth more to him dead than disobedient. Because if he can’t sell you, he’ll fucking kill you to prove a point about loyalty.”
Then he walked out, leaving me alone under the spray of the shower, shaking.
