He’s a mobster, a killer, a monster.
I can feel his breath. “Is this what it takes to keep you from running away from me?”
My eyes burst open and connect with his through the mirror in an attempt to curtail my arousal, but the dirty grin spreading on his cheeks fills me with rage.
Goddammit, he nearly got me to say yes.
“You’re going to have to try harder than that,” I growl back.
He pulls away, and I force myself to ignore the rampant disappointment coursing through my veins at the thought of his lips grazing my skin.
He chuckles. “Don’t say that to a man like me … you know I’d never back down from a challenge like that.”
Fuck.
“Pfft. You’re not going to win,” I retort, folding my arms. “I will always hate you for locking me away.”
I spin around on my heels. Big mistake, because seeing him right in front of me is even harder than through the mirror. And for some reason, that one image of him jerking off on his bed suddenly crosses my mind for just one second. But that one second is enough to completely throw me off my resolve to despise him.
“If you behave from now on …” He pauses for a second. “I’ll allow you to roam about the house freely.”
“What about going outside?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Small steps, Stella.”
“But I don’t want to be a prisoner,” I say.
He slides his hand across my hair and tucks it aside until he can cup my face, his coarse hand so gentle with me that it nearly makes me falter right there and then.
“You’re not my prisoner. You’re my wife.”
“Then let. Me. Out,” I hiss.
“Not until I’m certain you’ll return to me.”
His thumb brushes across my lips as his eyes desperately search for answers to questions I can’t give him, and he leans in, closing the gap between us.
Don’t give in. Don’t let him worm his way into your heart.
“You only want me to exact revenge on Lucio,” I say through gritted teeth.
“I do crave revenge … desperately. But I also can’t help but think …”
What if?
What if we just gave in?
His lips graze mine, and I can nearly taste the desire on his mouth, while his fingers graze my shoulders, pushing aside the fabric of my dress that keeps my rampant lust contained.
Suddenly, he pulls away and runs his fingers through his hair. “Sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”
He backpedals his way out of the room, almost like he regrets ever coming in … Like it’s becoming harder and harder to resist.
But as the door shuts behind him and he leaves me to myself again without locking the door, a smirk still forms on my face.
And I can’t help but wonder … What if I can use this attraction to my advantage?
MATTEO
