“What?” she spat, her fingers trembling as she unglued her bloodied nails from my torso. “Are you crazy?”
“For you, I believe so.” I cupped her cheek, drawing her closer. “Please. Tell me what you require for this, and I will do it. Please kiss me so I feel more, again. I do not know what you have done to me, but I require it, so please?—”
Sicily’s lips smashed to mine, though such a word was too strong for how soft and sweet her mouth was. She tasted like synthetic fruity makeup and alcohol, but she smelled like cream, perfume, andmine.
Mine.
Mine.
She moaned low in her throat, and I caught it gently, wrapping my fingers around her slender neck as she moved her mouth against mine. It was slow and tender, and every lick and taste of her made my dick twitch and her pulse flutter.
The feeling of my mind positively responding to an innocent body relying on me for air, for pleasure, forlife,proved that I was my father’s son and the Feras’ brother, but it also proved something foolish: that my wife trusted me despite what I had done to her.
To have control over how she reacted was an addiction, one that had manifested itself as a need to analyze her and keep her close. I could cause her emotion, take it away, heighten it, and that could be extremely detrimental to her being, but powerful to mine.
I would not harm her or her trust again, but I would test her limits, metaphorically dangle her from the edge of a cliff until she believed she would fall.
And then I would catch her.
Every single time.
17
SICILY
“Milan, let’s talk about this!”I cried out as he yanked me into his arms, carrying me out of the car bridal style the minute Adriano parked it atop the tall driveway. “You’re—you’re bleeding!”
His silence was only interrupted with the harsh crunch of his shoes against the pavement and the clink of his keys in the front door’s lock.
“Have a good fuck,” Adrian said with a yawn and a smirk that deserved smacking.
Were we going to fuck? The thought had my legs trembling, and I didn’t know if that was a good thing or because I probably should’ve told Milan a long time ago that just because I painted sex didn’t mean I knew how todo it.
My thighs clenched together as he carried me through the house, past his office, and toward the garden, his fingers tough through the thin fabric of my dress.
I frowned up at the stars. “Where the hell are we going?”
“Be quiet.”
Asshole.
I folded my arms over myself, turning my glare to the man,my husband,who was covered in blood and marching methrough the cold air. He was angry—sad too, it seemed. He just looked like he wasfeeling, and that was dangerous.
“Milan.” I breathed heavily as he walked us toward a secluded spot behind a row of trees at the very end of the yard. There was little light there, no sound except the gentle chirp of crickets, and nobody to hear or seeanything.
Would he hurt me here? Would he feel so much that he couldn’t help it?
There was a man inside of Milan that was kind and wanted to be just like everyone else, to feel pain and love and acceptance, but there was also a beast that hadn’t been tamed, simply leashed, and I’d chosen to forget that when he looked at me the way he had in the car.
“I amnotfunctioning well,” he whispered but it wasn’t soft or quiet. He smoothed the wisps of my hair that had been caught in the wind and brought his face to it, to my neck, my hair, and breathed deeply. “What have you done to me? What are thesefeelingsI cannot contain?”
I laid my cheek against his chest, feeling his throbbing heart through my skull. It was beating erratically, like it didn’t know how to slow. I didn’t care about the blood slicking my fingers, only that he was blaming me for something I didn’t know I’d done.
He set me down gently on a stone pathway that led to a glass room. It was tucked deep between tall trees and full bushes, hidden, but it lit itself up like a star with gentle, flickering golden light. I couldn’t see inside, only us in the glass, only the reflection of his bloodied body and the fear on my face.
“Milan—”
“Why are you still scared of me?” he asked, turning a metal key between his fingers.
