“Good girl.” He kisses me deeply, and I taste myself on his tongue. "My good, brave, beautiful, sweet dove.”
He carries me out of the office and down the hallway, kicking open the door to his bedroom and laying me down on the massive bed where I have spent two weeks sleeping in his arms.But this time, he follows me down, covering my body with his own, his weight pressing me into the mattress in a way that feels like safety instead of captivity.
“I am going to make you mine now." His forehead presses against mine, his dark eyes boring into my soul. “Completely. Irrevocably. And when I am done, you will never doubt where you belong again.”
I should be afraid. I should be fighting, resisting, demanding answers to questions I have not even thought to ask.
Instead, I reach up and pull him down for a kiss.
“Then stop talking,” I whisper against his lips, “and show me.” He has my signature. I’ll let him worry about the contract I was already forced to sign with Magnus. Either way, there’s no turning back now.
The smile that spreads across his face is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.
And then he does exactly as I asked.
Twelve
Persia
His mouth claims mine with a hunger that steals the breath from my lungs and replaces it with fire.
The sheets beneath my back are cool cotton, a stark contrast to the blazing heat of Rafael's body as he settles between my thighs. I swallow hard, my body flushed with heat and tingles. He is still fully clothed while I lie bare beneath him, and the imbalance of power should terrify me. Instead, it ignites something primal in my core, a need I have never felt before and do not fully understand.
“You are trembling.” His voice is rough against my lips, his dark eyes searching my face for something I cannot name. “Are you afraid? Of me, or what we are about to do?”
“No.” The word comes out steadier than I expect, because it is the truth. I am not afraid of this man who crashed my wedding and claimed me as his prize. I am not afraid of the pleasure he has already given me or the pain I know will come when he takes what I offered on a scrap of silk three weeks ago. “I am not afraid of you, Rafael.”
Something shifts in his expression, a crack in the armor he wears like a second skin. His thumb traces the curve of my cheekbone with a tenderness that makes my heart stutter in my chest.
“You should be.” The confession sounds like it costs him something precious. “I am not a good man, little dove. I have done terrible things. I will do terrible things again. And now I am going to take something from you that you can never get back.”
I reach up and frame his face in my hands, forcing him to meet my eyes. “I am giving it to you. There is a difference."
The sound he makes is somewhere between a groan and a prayer, and then his mouth is on mine again and his hands are everywhere, mapping the curves of my body like he is committing every inch to memory. He strips off his shirt and I finally get to see what I have only felt in the darkness of our shared bed, the hard planes of his chest covered in ink that tells stories I want to spend a lifetime learning.
The viper on his hand has brothers across his torso, serpents and roses and Latin words that curl around his ribs like secrets waiting to be whispered. I trace the lines with trembling fingers, feeling the raised edges of old scars beneath the artwork, and I understand without being told that this man has survived things that would have destroyed someone weaker.
“You are beautiful,” I breathe, and the surprise that flickers across his face tells me no one has ever said those words to him before.
He captures my wrist and brings my palm to his lips, pressing a kiss to the center that sends electricity sparking through my veins. “Not as beautiful as you.”
His trousers join the pile of discarded clothing on the floor, and then there is nothing between us except anticipation and the thundering of my heart. He is impressive in every way, thick and long and hard with want, and a fresh wave of nervousness washes through me at the sight.
Fire flashes between us. He comes over me and kneels between my spread thighs. He grips his gorgeous cock and works the hard length to the base all the way up to the tip. The heat of his body turns into an all-consuming wave of need.
He lifts my leg with an easy glide of his hand beneath my knee.
“Was tonight the first time a man has touched you?”
His slow, deep voice works through me, relaxing my quivering muscles.
“Yes,” I offer in a whispered sigh.
“I will be the first and also the last. I promise.”
He wraps my legs around his middle and effortlessly lifts me to his lap. I reach for his thick cock. How can I not? It’s big, beautiful, and begging me to touch it. When my fingers wrap around the veined length, a primal rumble of appreciation lets me know he likes my touch as much as I like his.
“Don’t let me enter you, just glide over my cock and let our bodies meet. Let me feel your hot juices cover me.”
