As if our proximity wasn’t enough of a problem for me, she leans in, her breasts bouncing slightly as she moves.
My jaw clenches so hard it aches. She’s hurt...and all I’m thinking about is fucking her when I should be praying she’d be okay.
“Stop,” I rasp, holding her hand on my bicep. My voice sounds wrecked, even to me. “Don’t touch me like that right now, little wife. You don’t know what you’re doing.”
She smiles, then laughs softly. “I like…I like how you’re…scary. Terrifying. You’re dangerous and perfect. So perfect.”
Every ridiculous word makes my cock throb harder. It doesn’t give a shit that she’s half-conscious. A blush appears on her pale cheeks, even as her body trembles from pain and the anesthetic.
“Did it hurt? Mine hurts, too…” she trails off, raising her wounded arm.
I quickly catch it mid-air, pressing it gently against her side. “Don’t do that.”
“I like it when you touch me. It makes me so...” Her voice trails off, exhausted, and she finally closes her eyes.
Benny’s last words drift into my mind like a warning bell.Even the devil has a weakness.
Chapter seventeen
Isabella
The first thing I register is the heat pressed against my spine. The second thing is pain. My arm hurts like someone set my bones on fire, pulling to the surface memories of the gunshot, blood soaking my arm, and Dominic stitching me up like some underground surgeon.
My eyes blink open, and I immediately regret it as a dull headache pounds behind my temples. It takes me a minute to realize I’m not in my room. The sheets here are darker and thicker...and the air is thick with the scent of something undeniably Dominic.
My breath hitches when I realize the weight at my side isn’t just metaphorical. Dominic is lying next to me, his arm hooked tight across my body.
For a man who’s made a career out of keeping his distance, he fits against me like it’s the most natural thing in the world. I pause for a moment; then, when I recover…from the shock, I shift slightly, enough to ogle his face but not enough to wake him.
Even I know that I look like a creep, taking in how his long lashes and perfect brows shape his face. My fingers itch to run along the smooth curves of his jaw and the ridges of his naked chest, but I quickly decide against it.
What am I doing here anyway?
Just as I have the thought, his eyes shoot open. For reasons I don’t know…no, for obvious reasons, heat flares in my cheeks, and I quickly exaggerate the pain in my shoulder to distract him from what I was just doing.
“Ouch!”
He quickly untangles himself from me and pulls back, hands hovering over the stitched wound.
“Fuck. Does it hurt?” His voice is groggy as he runs a hand through his hair. I must admit, though, the look of concern in his eyes tugs something in my stomach.
“Yes,” I answer truthfully, biting down on the groan rising in my throat. “I feel like my arm is on fire.”
His jaw tenses and he eyes me for a moment. Something shifts in his eyes when he stands. No... they. His significant member is also standing gloriously, the heavy outline poking against his grey joggers.
“The doctor will see you in a moment,” he says blankly, turning his back to walk into what I assume to be his closet.
Oh?
I don’t know what bothers me more. That he’s suddenly void of emotions, or that I wanted him to say something reassuring and loving.
Then the real question starts to hit.
“Who attacked us? Is it one of your enemies?”
His steps falter for barely a second before he keeps going. When he disappears into the closet, I decide to follow him, familiar irritation already circling my chest.
Why would he ignore me like I’m not a victim of whatever shit is happening? He’s rummaging through the closet as I stand at the threshold.
