His fingers find my clit again, rubbing fast and rough. The pressure snaps something inside me. Heat explodes through my body. I come hard, clenching around him in violent pulses, a raw scream tearing from my throat.
My nails rake down his back, and he hisses, thrusts turning erratic. He buries himself deep and follows me over the edge.Hot spurts flood me. I feel every pulse, every throb as he empties inside. His groan is low and broken against my neck.
We stay locked together for long seconds, breathing ragged. His weight pins me to the desk. My legs shake around his shoulders. Sweat slicks our skin.
Then reality crashes in.
I push against his chest. “Get off me.”
He pulls out slowly. Wetness follows, dripping down my thighs. He steps back. I slide off the desk on unsteady legs and yank my dress down. My underwear is shredded somewhere on the floor. I don’t look for it.
“Anna—”
“Don’t.”
“We need to talk about this.”
I turn to face him. He’s tucking his shirt back in, but his hair is a mess, and there are scratches on his neck from my nails.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” I say. “This doesn’t change anything.”
“Doesn’t it?”
“No. You’re still the man who forced me into this marriage. I still hate you. This was just…” I gesture vaguely between us. “Physical.”
“Just physical.”
“Yes.”
He studies me for a long moment. Then he crosses the space between us in two strides and grips my jaw, forcing me to look at him. “You’re my wife,” he says, voice low and hard. “You live in my house. You sleep in my bed when I tell you to. You will stop treating me like a stranger you’re forced to tolerate. This is your life now. The sooner you accept that, the easier it will be for everyone.”
I yank my face out of his grip. “Go to hell.”
“Already there. You’re coming with me.”
I grab my shoes from where they ended up near the door and leave without looking back.
My legs are shaking as I walk down the hallway. I can still feel him between my thighs. Still taste him on my lips.
I hate him.
I hate that I wanted that.
I hate that I already know it’s going to happen again.
When I reach my room, I lock the door and lean against it. My phone buzzes with a text from Lina asking how married life is treating me.
I don’t respond.
Instead, I go to the bathroom and stare at myself in the mirror. My lips are swollen. My hair is a mess. There’s a mark on my neck that will definitely bruise.
I look exactly like what I am.
8
LUCA
Anna isin the garden with the twins when I find her.
