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He grabs my wrist, spins me around on my own momentum before I can chase after it. He pins my arm behind my back and hauls me to my feet.
“Enough,” he snaps. “You’ve fought me more for your fucking nudes than you have for your life.”
He takes me by the hair, pulling me back until I am held captive against his chest. He walks us to the full-length mirror propped against one wall. My body stretches out under his rough hold; the position thrusts my breasts forward, making the slope of my belly taut and arched.
“Which part of this are you ashamed of?” he asks, as we stare into our own reflections.
He makes me look at myself like that, utterly naked and raw, a porcelain contrast against his midnight suit. Even our statures are opposite—his tall, powerful build making me look dainty in his grip. The fight bleeds out of me. Salvatore’s free hand slides along my flat belly, following the V-shape of my hips. I suck on my lower lip, trying to bite down on the whimper rising in my throat as I watch him touch me. I can see my own hunger in my treacherous eyes.
All my rage and wanting play out across my face.
I close them so I don’t have to see it, but I still feel it all as he leans into my neck and refreshes the angry mark he left beneath my ear. I shudder against him, convincing myself that it’s the same thing as fighting.
I did gymnastics through high school. I’ve had access to personal trainers from the time I was young. I’ve spent long afternoons on beaches in nothing but a bikini, and I’ve skinny dipped at private hot springs. I’m not uncomfortable with my body.
But my sexuality—my sensuality—that chokes me with shame. I don’t want anyone to see that, much less my own father. I also have zero desire to admit this to someone as equally gorgeous and menacing as Salvatore.
“Pretty sure it’s still normal to not want your nudes leaked to your dad,” I say tersely. The grip on my hair tightens. My scalp aches, and my breaths grow short and dire as he pulls my head back. He clicks his tongue against his teeth as he rejects my totally logical explanation.
He won’t let me go until he gets a real answer, until I give him something that’s painful to admit. It’s like he’s not satisfied with just having me physically. He wants everything—inside and out.
My will crumbles.
“I don’t do this! I’ve never been with anyone. I’ve never taken nudes. I…”
The truth wavers on my lips, refusing to fall, but Salvatore’s gaze has already darkened with realization.
“You’re a virgin.”
“…Yes,” I gasp.
I expect him to let me go, but his grip tightens instead. I yelp as I’m pulled to my tiptoes, dancing in his powerful grip.
“So, you were going to spread your legs, throw your virginity at some stranger in the back of a nightclub tonight? You’re that desperate to get rid of it?”
“No! I…”
In hindsight, I realize how it seems.
“My father kept tabs on my virginity like he could auction it off for sale. So what if I don’t care about it anymore? So what if I want to get rid of it? It’s my choice.”
“Is it?”
Salvatore drags me to the bed, throwing me back against it where I am sprawled beneath him. He pins my hands above my head, the weight of his hips putting delicious pressure on mine.
My naked pussy clenches around nothing, hips aching to roll up into his powerful presence.
Oh, fuck.
“Does it feel like your choice?”
My legs wrap around his waist as if they were made for it.
“You’ve been giving me that look all fucking night, like you’re begging me, so don’t give me your bullshit. You act like you want to call the shots, but deep down—you wanted a man who’d come along and take charge. Look at you.”
My fingers curl so tightly, my nails bite into my palms.
“It’s a nice loophole for all that Catholic school girl guilt you can’t shake off, isn’t it? It’s not your fault if the big bad man makes you feel it. Bet you never thought someone would call that pretty little bluff, did you?”
