He fucked me hard. Head cradled in his hands, I took it because I knew it was what he needed even if he would never admit it aloud. His grip tightened and he swore as he came, his body shuddering. Jaw clenched and eyes shut like he was in pain.
“Peregrine,” I whispered.
His eyes snapped open. “Goddamn it, we’re going to be late.”
He sat up, lifting me off him, and deposited me back into the passenger seat. Then he ran a hand over his face and closed the front of his pants. I sat there in shock as he pulled back onto the street. He was still breathing hard as if he couldn’t calm himself down.
“Why are you hiding something from me?” I said.
“I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. You used to be warmer with me, but now you’re so fucking cold,” I snapped. “What did I do? Why are you doing this to me?”
He kept his eyes on the road.
“Merrick agreed to your terms,” he said. “Tonight after dinner I have a private room at the restaurant booked. And tomorrow I get to bring the alliance to Lucien. Signed and sealed. That was the agreement.”
I stared ahead into the dark, hot and cold.
“You’re jealous.”
“No.”
“Yes, you are.”
“I’m not fucking jealous, Lia.”
“Yes. You. Are.”
“Swear to God, I will pull this car over if you don’t have some respect.”
“And do what?” I said, at the end of my patience. “What the hell are you going to do to me?”
I found my answer in his refusal to respond. His jaw clenched and there was a long silence that stretched on forever and ever into the dark road. I sat there, miserable and hunched against the door as we pulled up in front of the restaurant. He cut the engine and we sat in silence.
“I don’t love you, Lia,” he said, his voice fragile like ice. “And I don’t care if he touches you. I don’t care that you want him to touch you. I don’t fucking care, Lia.”
“Then why are you so fucking angry?”
I hadn’t meant to shout at him, but it came rushing out of me loud enough my ears rang. We both stared at each other in shock. He’d never truly lost control with me before, but suddenly I realized I’d overstepped my bounds. And my stomach turned over as I gazed up into his eyes. I’d forgotten he was more than just my husband, that he was a powerful man who had killed before, who didn’t mind getting his hands dirty.
He took a deep breath and released it.
“Rosalia Mariana Antonucci Calo,” he said. “You will not speak to me that way ever again.”
“Yes, sir,” I whispered.
He got out of the car, circling it, and helping me onto the sidewalk. I swallowed and looked up at him in the harshness of the city lights. His mouth thinned in a vaguely disappointed expression.
“I need you to be a good girl for me tonight, Lia,” he said.
I nodded, dropping my chin. He took my jaw and dragged my face up. There was a faint flush at the base of his throat, but otherwise he was deadly calm.
“If you do as I say tonight you can come so many times I’ll have to carry you out to this car,” he said.
He didn’t even give me time to recover because he took my hand and led me into the restaurant. The space between my thighs throbbed as we sat down in a circular booth in the far corner. There was a tall, dark haired man with gray around his ears and his beautiful, younger wife with long, flowing blonde hair seated opposite us.
Merrick was seated to their left. As Peregrine helped me to sit down and slid in beside me, Merrick’s gaze lifted slowly and fixated on me, studying me intently. The corner of his mouth twitched and I blushed and turned away.