Page 48 of Bound in Ruin

"You don't need to hide in the bathroom, Rosalia," he says, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that vibrates through the quiet room. “I’m sick of it.”

I stop near the edge of the bed, draping the towel over my shoulders. "I'm not hiding. But I'm certainly not going to stand around in front of you when you're radiating enough temper to burn the house down."

"I am not throwing a temper," he growls, stepping closer, his jaw setting into a hard line. "I am establishing what is mine. You're my wife."

"Your wife," I repeat with a dry, bitter edge, looking up at him. "Right. Because that title meant so much the last time I had it."

Dominic's eyes darken instantly. "Do not bring Luciano into this."

"Why not?" I shoot back, crossing my own arms as the residual adrenaline from the casino flares up into pure defiance. "It’s the same dynamic, isn't it? A powerful man asserting control, claiming ownership over me like a piece of land, getting furious the second someone else steps into the perimeter. I’ve lived through one marriage built on possessive dominance, Dominic. Forgive me if I'm not eager to repeat the experience."

"You think this is the same?" The words snap out of him, sharp and dangerous. He closes the distance between us in two long strides, towering over me, his shadow swallowing me whole.

"You think I am like Luciano? I gave you a home. I give you freedom. I let you speak to me the way no one else in this city dares to, and you compare me to a dead coward who hid behind his rank?"

"You're acting just like him tonight!" I snap, refusing to back down, my chest heaving as I look right into his furious gaze. "You didn't care about that man touching my hand—you cared about someone touching your property! It's all about control for you!"

"It isn't about control!" he roars, his breathing heavy, his gaze burning through me with an intensity that makes the room feel suffocatingly small.

"Then what is it, Dominic?" I demand, stepping right into his space. "Because if this isn't about control, and it isn't about your pride, then maybe it's about what actually happens in this room. Or what doesn't happen."

The air between us snaps tight, thick with a sudden, suffocating heat.

Dominic’s eyes drop to my lips before rising back to mine, dark and completely feral. "Careful, Rosalia."

"Why should I be careful?" I push, my heart hammering against my ribs, driven by a strange mix of anger and nerve. "You treat me like I’m yours out in public, laying hands on anyone who looks at me, acting like the possessive husband. But in this bed, you keep your distance. So which is it? Am I your wife, or am I just another piece of territory you like to guard?"

I know I’m not being fair. I was the one who drew the lines. I was the one who made the rule.

But…he’s also never attempted to erase those lines! It’s like he’s comfortable without intimacy. Without touching me. Kissing me. How can he look at me with so much heat and stay away? How can he attack a man for touching me when he won’t do the fucking same?!

"You want to know what this bed is about?" Dominic steps so close I can feel the heat radiating off his skin, his hand reaching out to wrap firmly around the back of my neck, tilting my head up to force me to meet his burning gaze.

"You think I keep my distance because I don't want you? You have no idea how much effort it takes not to tear those clothes off you the second you walk into this room."

"Then why won’t you?" I breathe out, the words laced with a dangerous mix of defiance and desperate craving.

His grip on my neck tightens, his jaw locking so hard a muscle twitches in his cheek. "You don’t know what you’re asking for, Rosalia."

"Tear my clothes off, Dominic," I challenge, leaning into his touch, my heart pounding wild against my ribs. "Prove to me that you’re a man."

A voice in the back of my mind screams that I'm crossing a line I can't uncross. I know I’ll regret this. The moment these clothes come off, he’ll see everything—the jagged silver scars left behind by my past, the marks I keep hidden under layers of silk and lies.

But right now, the anger, the alcohol, and the suffocating tension in this room have me entirely in their grip. I’m way too strung out, too hot, too consumed by him to care. I’ve never wanted anyone so badly in my life. I want him. Right now.

His eyes flare with a sudden, dark fury that makes my breath catch in my throat. He crowds my space, trapping me against his chest as he raises his hand.

For a split second, I think he’s going to gently trace the side of my face, to break the rage with a stroke of his thumb.

Instead, I hear the sharp, violent sound of fabric giving way.

A loud, brutal tear echoes through the room as he rips my shirt down the center, the buttons scattering across the hardwood floor like hail. The cool bedroom air hits my bare skin, but the heat radiating off Dominic burns hot enough to scorch.

He steps in closer, his frame pressing me back until the edge of the mattress catches the back of my knees. His dark orbs devour me, burning through the anger, through the scars, straight into the core of me.

“Look at me, Rosalia, and you better listen to me well,” he growls, his voice a low rumble against my jaw. “Remember you asked for this, because I’ll show you no mercy. I’m going to fuck you as hard as I’ve been dying to since the moment I first saw you.”

Before the last word even clears his throat, he crashes his lips to mine, taking my mouth with a fierce, punishing hunger that completely wipes out the rest of the world.