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But that was the problem.

It wouldn't be a lie.

These words would not be innocent. They would be weaponized against me.

To admit I loved her…

To admit I'd fallen into my own fucking trap would be to admit she had power over me.

No one held power over a Diamanti.

I splayed my hand over her inner thighs, pushing her legs open further. I rubbed my thumb over the faint shadow of a bruise. The mark of our earlier lovemaking. No. Not lovemaking. Fucking.

Three words.

That was all she'd asked for.

Three words to save her.

Three words to doom myself.

Her eyes filled with tears as she waited to hear the one phrase from me that would make all her pain go away. "Sebastian?"

Love was weakness. And I was not weak.

I thrust inside her.

Impaled her.

Violated her.

Her back arched as I forced her to take every thick inch in one stroke, her gasp of shock cutting through the silence.

I pulled back and thrust again, relishing in the clench of her tight muscles around my shaft, the slick heat of her welcoming me even as her mind fought against it.

I didn't lean over her.

There were no kisses or sweet words whispered in her ear.

This was no longer a gentle coupling.

It was a claiming.

She was mine.

And this time I would make sure she never forgot it.

My balls tightened as I thrust faster, the sound of flesh against flesh filling the room. I spread my hand over her stomach, pressing down, then sliding between her legs to tease her already sensitive clit.

She moaned and thrashed beneath me as I forced a second climax from her fragile body, watching her face contort in unwilling pleasure.

My little bird. My dolcezza.

When I knew I was close, I leaned over her body, bracing my forearm by her head.

She reached between us, panic flaring in her eyes. "Not again. It's too risky. You have to pull out."

I kept thrusting. Harder. Faster.