Fucked.
Owned.
To hell with him. While he believed I’d underestimated him, he had no idea how strong my resolve was. I would find my answers, a truth that I doubted I wanted, but in the process, I would destroy the man. Somehow. Some way.
So help me God.
As I headed toward the stairs, I realized the real question was why my entire body tingled at the thought of surrendering to a soulless man.
The thought remained heavy in my mind as I walked into the bedroom, staring at the bed that he’d fucked me on, my body instantly quivering given that the memories and images were fresh.
And haunting.
Damn him for making me feel all those dazzling sensations, fueling the fire he’d created with a single phone call. Damn me for wanting him even more.
I moved into the bathroom, my actions perfunctory as I grabbed a towel from the closet, opening the shower door and staring at the faucet for almost thirty seconds before turning it on. Then I turned toward the counter, catching a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror. I’d expected to find haunted eyes, a strained face, and pallid skin. Instead, I was glowing from the aftermath of our sex.
My stomach lurched as I leaned over, hating everything about my body’s reaction even more. How could it have felt so right when everything about the man and his mission was wrong?
Or was it?
Had he deserved to go to prison? I wasn’t entirely certain how to answer that truthfully any longer. I stripped off the dress, tossing it aside. There was no evidence he’d brought anything else for me to wear. What did it matter? For all I knew, he’d keep me naked the entire time of my… prison term. Other than for glorious pictures I assumed he’d take for the press. That’s partially what this was about, his need for revenge including using me to soothe his beast.
I tried to block the horrible thoughts as I stepped inside, determined to wash away my sins, allowing the water to drag every remnant into the bowels of the earth. There was something odd about being in a strange house. It didn’t belong to Alessandro. Not really. He would never live in something so… paltry. It was far too cozy, quaint in a homey way, as if a beautiful family had been raised here, enjoying the highs and lows of life.
I imagined he lived in a stark white and black condo somewhere in Manhattan, several employees at his beck and call to service his every need. I laughed as I rolled my fingers over the pinkish colored tile, the edges adorned with roses. Why were we here? Why hadn’t he whisked me away immediately, locking me in a steel cage instead of one made of wood? Too many questions rolled through my mind and I hated every one of them.
Almost immediately I felt cold air behind me and turned abruptly, throwing out my hands. As I connected with his naked body, my palms pushing against his chest, he seemed amused.
“I never said I would allow you to shower alone.”
He was making good on his requirements without giving me the benefit of determining my answer. I caught a glimpse of his weapon placed on the counter before he closed the door behind him. He slanted his eyes, immediately pushing me against the tile wall.
“Are you still thinking about shooting me, Sierra? Is that what you ultimately long to do? I’ll give you one piece of advice. When you pull that trigger, make certain you kill me, because if you don’t, you will regret your decision.”
Of that I had no doubt.
I continued shivering even as I lifted my head in defiance, my mind refusing to accept his authority. The game was stressful, but I couldn’t seem to erase the words he’d said during the lonely nights, or the feelings I’d been left with after he’d ended the calls.
Unbridled desire.
Insatiable needs.
Intense suffocation.
But from the life I’d chosen to lead, the fears of the unknown. Yet the longer we’d talked, he’d managed to abate my apprehension, replacing the tension with continuous shudders.
A part of me wanted nothing more than to shove him away, but with him standing so close, the electricity burning so brightly, I couldn’t think of anything else but fulfilling our combined desires.
“I don’t want you,” I said in a whispered voice.
“Why lie to yourself,mi dulce gatita? You crave the exact same thing I do. You and I are much more alike than you realize.” Alessandro lowered his head, drinking in my scent, dragging his tongue across his lips.
“We’re nothing alike.”
As he rolled his fingers down the length of my arm, his nostrils flared. “You’re so certain of that?”
“Stop calling me a sweet kitten unless you want to hear me roar.” I slammed my palms against him, but there was no way to budge his larger-than-life body. He evoked desires in me I’d never known existed.