My hands explored his body, feeling the slabs of concrete all over his physique. His pecs were thick like rocks, and his stomach was marked with grooves between his eight pack. His skin was hot like fire, and my fingertips burned as I touched him. My hands moved to his back next, and I felt all the muscles I’d already stared at.
He was so powerful.
The most powerful man I’d ever touched. I felt like I was touching a beast that couldn’t be tamed. He was all man, from head to toe. I’d never been with a man who felt so purely masculine. He even kissed me better than any man ever had. Nothing about this was romantic. It was carnal and instinctual, but it frothed with distinct passion.
How could I enjoy kissing someone I hated?
I moved for his jeans next, ready to tug them down so he could fuck me. My offer of sex must have changed his mind. Something about my words got under his skin, made him rethink what he was losing.
I didn’t regret the offer I made. I was still alive, and right now, that was all that mattered.
But when I moved for his jeans, he ended the kiss. He moved off me abruptly, like our kiss made him even angrier than he was a moment ago. Huffing and puffing, he got off me then stormed away, leaving his shirt behind.
I lay on the plastic covering, naked and smelling like him. I stared at the ceiling, feeling my hard nipples slowly flatten. Perspiration marked my body because so much adrenaline had circulated through my body. I almost died five minutes ago.
The only reason I was still alive was because Bones changed his mind.
I just hoped he didn’t change his mind back.
4
Bones
I sat behind my desk, still shirtless because my temperature had never decreased after I hit my boiling point. I was full of rage, full of ferocity. I stared out the large window to the mountain beyond, looking at the untouched white snow. In the winter, the outskirts of Lake Garda were breathtaking and beautiful. The solitude kept me calm, stopped the bad thoughts from descending.
But right now, they couldn’t be helped.
Flames licked the wood and made popping sounds. My bottle of scotch was untouched on the desk. I’d already had plenty for the day. The sun was setting because I’d been sitting there for hours.
And hours.
Her panties were still in my pocket because I intended to jerk off with them after I got rid of her body.
Because I was a sick fuck like that.
My fingers rested against my temples, and I stared out the window, watching the light fade and no longer reflect the powder of snow.
I had the knife at her throat. I had the blade right against her skin. I could feel her frantic pulse as her heart pumped adrenaline in her veins. I got off on her vulnerability, on her submission. She knew her life was about to end, and there was nothing she could do about it. My revenge was finally in my hands.
But then her little speech turned me cold.
She took all the power away—and she didn’t even realize it.
She viewed her death as a sacrifice, a way to satisfy my need for revenge and to spare her family at the same time. Like a martyr, she wanted her death to mean something—to be the final end to the war that had existed for three generations.
Once again, she made me respect her. I respected her selfless view. I respected her strength. I respected the way she didn’t cry in her last moment or shit her pants. She held on to her dignity even when she was buck naked.
Not just any woman could manage that.
I wanted to kill her because she was a Barsetti.
But I actually liked this woman.
How did you kill someone you liked?
Fuck. Me.
I stayed in my office for a long time, refusing Richard as he tried to serve me lunch and dinner.
I didn’t have an appetite.
Now I didn’t know what to do. If I wasn’t going to kill her, then what? Just let her go? That’d make me look like the biggest pussy on the planet. I’d lose all my self-respect. And she would tell her family what I did, so they would come after me. Not only would I lose my revenge, but I would also lose my life.
Fuck, this was bad.
“Sir?” Richard stepped into my bedroom.
I just got out of the shower, a towel wrapped around my waist. I slept terribly the night before, thinking about her panties in my drawer. I kept wishing I’d killed her, and that led to self-loathing. So I tossed and turned all night. “Call me Bones, Richard.”
“You’ve been telling me that for a long time, but it doesn’t feel right.”
“Well, it doesn’t feel right listening to you address me like that.”