Then he lifts a hand, and for a breathless moment, I think he’s going to tug the belt loose.
Instead, he skims his fingertips across the lapel of the robe, tracing the edge where it gapes over my breast.His touch is featherlight, but it burns intensely, making my breath catch.My nipples pebble, pressing against the fabric like traitors.
“You’ll learn to behave as I demand.”
Not a chance in hell, Moretti.
He strokes his thumb just beneath the curve of my breast, and I have to lock my knees to keep from swaying into him.
But I don’t move away.I let him touch me, let the heat of his hand seep through the robe until my skin feels branded.“I’m not your doll to dress, Moretti.”
“Mmm.”The corner of his mouth curves.Again, it’s not quite a smile, more like a predator acknowledging a worthy opponent.“You will be.As of tomorrow.”
God, how I hate his confidence.
He flattens his palm over my chest, against the rapid thud of my heart.“And today?You’re going shopping for a dress and a ring.”
I shake my head.
“Every symbol will be a mark of my possession.”
“I am no one’s possession.Especially a Moretti’s.”
His jaw tightens.
Have I pushed too far?
And too damn bad if I have.
Even though I want to keep the peace, I have my own limits.
He leans in, stealing space that I need to think clearly.“On that contrary, Valentina.”Infuriatingly he wraps a lock of my hair around his index finger, as if he’s toying with me.
My breath catches.
“You’re mine.And I’ll make sure you never forget it.”
His words infuriate me.
And yet…
I hate the way my body responds to him.Hate how I remember every detail of the way his mouth felt on mine—hard and claiming, then softer, coaxing—and the way the taste of him still lingers like a drug in my veins.
“You have two choices.”He drops his hand to the knot at my waist.“You can get dressed.”He shrugs.“Or not.Either way, the car is waiting.And we’re leaving in three minutes.“
Are you serious?
“I really don’t care what you decide.”
I search his gaze, looking for any hint that he’s teasing.But he means it.He’d walk me through a designer boutique in nothing but his own robe just to prove he could.
“Three minutes, Valentina.”
Furious, I step back.Since he’s still got a hand on the belt, the knot slips a little, and so does the neckline.
His breath leaves him in a slow, controlled exhale.For a moment, he just stares, eyes tracing every inch of exposed skin like he’s memorizing it for later.
The silk slides over my skin, the loosened lapel exposing the curve of my shoulder to the cool air of the room—and to his heated, unwavering gaze.
