Sienna's breath catches. She stares at me for a long beat, processing what I've just admitted. A man who has spent twenty years leading from the front, who has never once delegated the violence he considers his personal responsibility—that man sat in a basement and listened to his brothers fight because he could not bring himself to leave her alone in the dark.
She stands up, her bare feet silent on the heated tile, and walks toward me. She stops a foot away, her head tilted back to look up at me. Her hand comes up slowly, and she presses her palm flat against my chest, right over the strong, steady beat of my heart.
"What happened?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Santi took the docks. Clean. Surgical." I pause, and the next words taste like ash. "Fabio hit the warehouse. He lost two men."
Her hand presses harder against my chest, as if she can feel the grief vibrating beneath my ribs. "I'm sorry."
"They were good men. They followed us from Pine Valley." I reach up and cover her hand with mine, pressing it tighter against my sternum. "I burned their central distribution hub to the ground tonight. I destroyed tens of millions of dollars of their infrastructure. I put a target on my own back that will drag this war into the light of day months before I am ready. And I lost two soldiers who trusted me with their lives."
I look down at her, at the copper curls framing her pale face, at the wide amber-hazel eyes that hold no judgment—only a raw, searching attention that strips me to the marrow.
"I did all of it because they took the only thing in this world that made you smile before I dragged you into my hell," I tell her, myvoice thick and rough with the truth I've spent hours avoiding. "I cannot buy back your grandmother's memory. I am a blunt instrument, Sienna. I only know how to destroy threats and acquire assets. I tried to treat you like an asset to be managed. I was wrong. So I sent my brothers to burn their world down."
Sienna lets out a fractured, broken breath. The wall she built between us hours ago shatters, leaving only the raw, exposed nerves of a woman who realizes just how deeply, terrifyingly obsessed I am with her.
Her small hands come up, framing my jaw. "You are insane," she whispers, her voice thin.
"Only for you," I reply, my hands coming up to grip her waist. "I will burn this entire fucking city to keep you warm, Sienna. Tell me you understand that."
"I understand," she breathes, and then she pulls my mouth down to hers.
The kiss is not like the desperate, angry claiming from earlier. This is a collision. This is the absolute collapse of my remaining restraint. I groan, a deep, guttural sound in the back of my throat, as her tongue sweeps against mine. She tastes like mint and the sweet, dark warmth of sleep. My hands slide up from her waist, gripping the lapels of the black robe, and I shove the silk off her shoulders. It pools at her feet, leaving her naked, flushed, and perfectly soft against the harsh lines of my suit.
I lift her. She gasps against my mouth as I grip her thighs, boosting her up onto the cold marble edge of the double vanity. Her legs instantly wrap around my waist, pulling me tight against her. Through the thick wool of my trousers, I can feel theimmediate heat of her, the slick dampness already gathering at her pussy.
I break the kiss, panting, resting my forehead against hers. "I need to look at you."
She nods, her eyes dark with a heavy, primal lust that mirrors my own. I step back just an inch, my gaze dropping down her body. The pale, flawless skin of her throat, the heavy weight of her breasts, the tight, pink peaks of her nipples pulled taut in the cool air of the bathroom. Down to the soft curve of her stomach, to the apex of her thighs where she is wet and shining, her pussy swollen and slick for me.
The air between us is thick with the scent of her arousal—warm and unmistakably wanting—cutting through the cool marble and bourbon-threaded air of the bathroom. I breathe it in like a man who has been starving.
I reach down, unbuckling my belt with violent efficiency. The heavy leather slides through the loops, hitting the floor with a metallic clatter. I tear open the button of my trousers, pushing the zipper down. I am painfully hard, the thick, heavy length of my erection aching against the constraint of my tailored briefs. I free myself, my cock jutting out, thick and weeping with precum.
Sienna's gaze locks as she looks at me. She reaches out, her small fingers wrapping around my girth.
My vision goes white. My knees nearly buckle. The sensation of her soft, warm hand on the brutal, pulsing heat of my flesh is a sensory overload. "Christ, Sienna," I grit out, my jaw locked. I grab her wrist gently but firmly, pulling her hand away before I lose the last shred of my control. "Let me."
I step into the V of her thighs. I slide my hands under her ass, lifting her slightly on the cold marble to angle her hips perfectly to mine. I lean forward, burying my face in the crook of her neck, breathing in the scent of her skin, the remnants of the shea and lavender cream I bought for her.
I press the broad, blunt head of my cock against her slick, swollen pussy. She whimpers, her nails digging into the broad span of my shoulders through my shirt.
"Look at me," I command softly.
She opens her eyes. They are dilated, heavy with need.
"I am right here," I tell her, holding her gaze. I want her anchored. I want her to know exactly who is claiming her, not as a captive, but as a queen. "I am not hiding anything from you. I am yours."
I push my hips forward.
The slide of her body taking mine is the most exquisite agony I have ever known. She is incredibly tight, her internal walls clenching around me, scalding hot and slick with her own wetness. I groan—a heavy, feral sound—as I sink in, centimeter by centimeter, stretching her, filling her completely. When my hips finally meet the cradle of her thighs, I stop, burying my face in her shoulder as a full-body tremor wrecks me.
"Dominic," she gasps, her back arching, pressing her breasts against my chest.
"I know," I breathe, kissing the sensitive skin beneath her ear. "I know,tesoro."
I begin to move. Slow. Deliberate. I pull back until only the head remains inside her, feeling the exact moment she whines at theloss of friction, and then I drive deep, seating myself fully against her. She cries out, a beautiful, high-pitched sound that goes straight to my marrow.
