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He did look remarkably like them, with the olive skin, the dark hair, the hint of Italian heritage. But the boy in the photograph had jade eyes whereas Cristian had caramel espresso eyes. I wondered who the boy in the photograph was and why he wasn’t the head of the family now that his father was retired. Was that handsome, melancholy boy the reason for the sadness in Sofia’s eyes?

Before I got to ponder that any longer, explore the other photographs, I felt a presence in the room. My body tensed up, the hairs on the back of my neck prickling.

Cristian was staring at me when I turned, stark hunger in his eyes. He’d been looking me like that the entire night, not bothering to hide it from the two people at the table who were most likely his parents. They’d both seemed amused by it.

I was uncomfortable and turned on, refusing to meet his eyes. I told myself I hated it. The unhealthy obsession we seemed to have with each other. That I didn’t like the weight of his stare on me. Disliked that every inch of my skin was owned by Cristian. I found myself looking to my left hand much too often, something I knew Cristian noted with satisfaction.

And now I was pent up with need, anger and hatred.

My eyes met Cristian’s, and I wished I had the strength to storm from this room.

“Do you remember what I promised you earlier?” Cristian asked, moving around the table.

I stayed where I was, although my instincts were telling me to move.

“Was that before or after you railroaded me with this dinner? Or this engagement?” I spat.

Cristian didn’t reply, he just continued to advance.

Still, I didn’t retreat. Didn’t run.

He grasped the back of my neck when he reached me, making it impossible to pull away, even if I’d wanted to.

“Sofia and Vincentius were impressed,” he murmured softly. “And that is not an easy feat.”

“They were impressed by the quality of your captive?” I returned, venom in my voice. “Color me flattered.”

Cristian grinned wickedly, showing straight, white teeth. “I hope that your smart mouth remains throughout our marriage, no matter how often I try to fuck it out of you.”

My body responded to his words as I kept the glare fastened on my face.

“There isn’t going to be a marriage,” I snarled at him.

His grip tightened on my neck, and his eyes burned into me. “Keep telling yourself that, Sienna.” Then, before I could argue, his mouth fastened on mine.

I didn’t fight him on the kiss, but we were doing battle, nonetheless. Our lips, tongues and teeth clashed with passion, with fury.

His hands moved from my neck to the front of my dress, where he clutched the silk fabric and ripped it down the middle.

Tore the fucking dress from me.

I was too desperate, too mad with need to even register how insane that was. The violence of it caused my skin to burn even hotter.

Cristian let out a low hiss as his eyes ran over my naked body. “Silk and nothing underneath this whole fucking dinner. You’re lucky I didn’t know that, or I would’ve fucked you on the table in the middle of our meal.”

He kissed me once more, hands going to my naked hips, lifting me so he could place me on the dining table. Cristian’s hands went to my inner thighs, spreading them apart, exposing me completely to him. He ate me first with his eyes, exposing an intense, unyielding, hunger. I wanted to writhe against the table in frustration, in pleasure, ready to explode just from him staring at my pussy like it held the fucking secrets of the universe.

I quivered, actually fucking quivered under the weight of it. I was glad when his mouth found my clit, not just because I needed release more than anything, but because I couldn’t bear him staring at me like that.

I pressed up on my elbows, my legs thrown over Cristian’s shoulders, the world blurring around me. He worked at me expertly, knowing every inch of my body already. He understood every part of me—down there, at least—he knew how to drive me crazy. How to bring me to the edge and pull me back. Torture me with my own pleasure.

Something caught my eye as Cristian feasted on me. Someone, lingering by the door.

Felix.

Standing in the doorway leading to the hallway, illuminated by the light behind him.

He was watching. And when I caught his eye, he didn’t flinch, didn’t move. No, his brows raised ever so slightly, waiting, daring. Waiting for me to stop Cristian, to alert him to his presence.

What would Cristian do if he knew that Felix was watching this? Watching me?

He’d hurt him, surely. Cristian was a dangerous alpha male. Though I hadn’t experienced it yet, I got the feeling he’d be a possessive one.


Tags: Anne Malcom Erotic