“What the fuck is this?”
“It’s part of the dress.” I raised my chin. “You bought this dress for me.”
“It’s fucking lingerie,” he snapped, his jaw tense. “You’re not going out with a lace garter around your bare thigh.”
“Why do you care?” I snapped.
“Because you’re my wife,” he said. His chest heaved and his eyes dragged over my body. “And that’s mine.”
He was jealous and I loved the powerful feeling of it. His grip tensed and I stepped back, stretching the delicate fabric. He refused to relent, refused to let go. There was a sharp, desperate sensation rising between my thighs, stirred by the anger in his face and his fist around my garter. For a moment, I fantasized that he would lose control and push me against the wall. My breath came hard, my breasts struggling against the tight corset built into the dress.
“You’re being a monster,” I whispered.
He drew back like I’d slapped him, his eyes wide.
I yanked away and he let my garter go. Bewildered by his reaction, I whirled, practically running down the hall and descending the staircase. The front hall glittered beneath the candlelight chandelier and everything smelled like roast chicken and vegetables. Outside, it was raining again and the house was sinister and cozy all at once.
My hips ached and my pussy pulsed as I ducked into the kitchen. His jealousy had aroused me so deeply I was burning for him. I squirmed my thighs. God, I just wanted to be fucked. My fingers dug into the kitchen countertop. I just needed to be bent over and pounded until it hurt. A hot shiver of desire moved down my spine and I bit back a desperate whimper.
“Having trouble?”
My eyes snapped open to find my husband leaning in the doorway, his arms crossed. I glared at him and he advanced on me. My whole body stood to attention as he paused behind me. His hot breath washed over the bare nape of my neck with delicious warmth.
“Turn around,” he ordered.
I obeyed, looking up to meet his gaze. He took my upper arm and pushed me against the counter gently, pinning me there with his lean body. His eyes were so close to mine and I felt his chest rise and fall against my breasts.
“Wear that thing,” he murmured. “But if I see any man so much as look at you, I will make you watch while I carve his stomach out.”
Something hot rippled down to the apex between my legs.
“You’re bloodthirsty,” I whispered.
“Only when it comes to you.”
His grip tightened until it hurt. He bent and his mouth brushed mine and then he bit me just hard enough to make me squirm. Pain rippled through my lower lip at the same moment that the kitchen door slammed open. Peregrine pulled back abruptly. I turned to find Mrs. Greene, and Lucien’s right hand, Cosimo Barone, standing there. My heart jumped and a hot flush shot up my neck.
“Mrs. Calo, your guests are here,” Mrs. Greene said, looking embarrassed.
“I think we’ve intruded on dessert before dinner,” Cosimo said, smirking. “Carry on.”
He disappeared through the door and Peregrine’s gaze bored into me as he turned to follow him. Mrs. Greene twisted her hands together, blushing.
“Sorry, dear,” she mumbled.
“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been in the kitchen…doing that,” I said. “I mean, we weren’t doing that. We were fighting over my dress. He wasn’t…you know.”
“It’s really…not my business, dear,” she said. “Let’s just forget about it. Why don’t you go out and see Mrs. Esposito and Mrs. Barone? I’ll handle bringing the food and wine out.”
I snagged a couple bottles of Merlot and headed toward the door. I stopped and turned. “We really weren’t doing anything,” I whispered.
“It’s your kitchen, Mrs. Calo.”
She smiled and bustled away to the cabinet. I pushed through the double doors and clicked down the hall to the dining room. Lucien’s wife, Olivia, stood outside the door with Lorenza, Cosimo’s new wife, at her side. I paused, frowning.
“What’s wrong?”
“Merrick Llwyd is here,” Lorenza whispered. She jerked her head toward the front door. “They’re having a cigarette on the porch.”