I groan with excitement, tasting her sweetness on my lips, my mouth rough and greedy for more. I slam us both against the door, kissing her so hard I nearly forget how to behave like an actual gentleman.
She shouldn’t have said that. She shouldn’t have uttered those words. Because I know I can’t stop myself any longer.
My hands slide down her neck, desperate to get closer, desperate to feel more of this fire burning between us, threatening to set us ablaze. My fingertips roll down her clavicles, reaching for the fabric of her shawl that covers her shoulders, and I push it all aside. My lips roam freely across her lips, chin, and neck, leaving a trail of saliva and neediness all over. And when she moans, I’m done for.
“Fuck,” I groan, placing sinful kisses all over her neckand shoulder as her head tilts back against the door. Her shawl drops to the floor, and my eyes skid down her arms to the stains on her skin. I stop kissing her entirely.
I stare at the marks on her skin, and she swallows as my fingertips graze past each one of them.
“What are those?”
She clears her throat. “Nothing.”
I frown as I find more and more marks scattered all over both her arms and her chest. Slowly but surely, the fire that threatened to consume me now begins to set me ablaze, not just with fiery passion, but with violent rage.
These aren’t mere marks. They’re bruises.
Fingerprints.
“Who did this to you?” I growl.
Her face contorts, and she shakes her head vigorously. “Please, don’t make me say it out loud.” She doesn’t stop shaking her head as her breathing picks up speed. “Oh God.”
Her eyes skid about the room, as though the walls are slowly caving in on her. Her lungs keep sucking in the air like something’s happening to her, and I don’t understand.
“Hey.” I try to grab her attention, but she’s not even looking at me anymore.
“I can’t breathe,” she murmurs, slowly sinking to her knees.
Her breathing is erratic, uncontrolled, as her body begins to shake vigorously, so I go to my knees with her, refusing to let go despite her being obviously terrified of something thatisn’t even here… Ghosts of the past claiming her mind.
“I can’t … I can’t …”
“Look at me. Focus on my eyes,” I say, looking deep into her eyes as I grab her shoulders tightly. She locks in on me as I open my mouth and show her how to breathe calmly. “Breathe. You’re safe. No one will harm you anymore.”
She keeps her panicked gaze fixated on mine, while I hold on tight and keep her steady in the moment.
“You’re in my house, and I won’t ever let anyone hurt you, I promise,” I say, as her eyes softly go in and out of focus. I lift my hands and cover her mouth. “Breathe into the palm of my hand, Tesoro. That’s it. Take slow, deep breaths.”
She does what I say, refocusing her breathing on my hands instead of inward for a few minutes, which must feel like hours to her as the panic gently begins to subside.
“See? You can do it,” I say.
She takes a few more deep breaths and looks down at her shaking hands for a second. “Thank you.”
I place a hand on the side of her head and gently pet her until the terror that just gripped her heart and refused to let go is finally defused.
That was no ordinary fear … and it’s making my skin crawl.
My teeth grind together so harshly that I chip a tooth.
This ishisdoing.
“I cannot let this slide,” I say.
She swiftly grabs her shawl off the floor and haphazardly puts it back on, as if to hide the shame of the marks on her body. But I already know who put those bruises there, and I will make him fucking pay.
“That motherfucker put his hands on you,” I growl, as I march to my closet and pull out my knives, tucking them into my pocket. Then I grab a gun, loading it right in front of her.
