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16
Karma
"What…what’s that supposed to mean?" My voice quivers. Hell, I hate that. I so don’t want to appear weak in front of this man. I bite down on my lower lip and his gaze drops there.
"Scared, Beauty?"
"Of course, not."
"You should be." He bends his elbow behind his back, and when he straightens his arm the light catches a flash of silver in his hand. "Wh…what’s that?"
He swoops out his arm and the front of my dress loosens. I glance down to find he’s cut through the straps holding up the dress. "What did you do?"
"What does it look like?"
"Do you have to answer every question with a question?"
He arches an eyebrow, then swoops out his hand again. His movements are so fast, they seem like a blur. I blink. He retreats, then surveys his handiwork. I glance down as the dress falls apart. Oh. He cut enough slashes in the front of the dress for it to literally deflate in on itself. Whoa. I glance up at his face, "Was that supposed to impress?" I murmur, "I mean, all you had to do was ask me to get undressed—"
"What’s the fun in that, hmm?"
He hooks his left forefinger in the neckline of my dress and tugs. With a whisper, the entire front of the dress separates. He throws it aside, as the back of the dress falls away, leaving me clad in my bra and panties. I raise my hands to cover myself, then stop. Damn it, I am not going to act like a shrinking violet. I have seen worse. I survived the foster care system, I survived dropping out of Goldsmiths and forging my own creative path. And look where that got me? Sitting in my underwear on the counter of the bathroom of a Mafia Capo in Sicily. Jeez, at least my life is not boring, I have to admit.
I place my arms in my lap, stare up at me, "What now?"
His lips curl. He reaches out, slides the flat edge of his knife under the strap of my bra, tugs. The thin material snaps. He does the same on the other side, then slides the tip of the blade under the strap between my breasts. He twists the blade and the tense material snaps. My bra falls away and cool air assails my heated flesh. My nipples instantly harden and my breasts swell. He doesn’t look down at my chest; neither do I.
His gaze intensifies; the darkness in those blue eyes swirls, coils in on itself. He seems both relaxed and on edge. Bored and turned on. Intensely focused, as always, and yet also, strangely, disconnected from everything. This mass of contradictions about him is what attracts me and challenges me and makes me want to do everything possible to get a rise out of him; get under his skin, break his control, watch him as he finally shattered. Or maybe that would be me. What will he do when he finally gives into those emotions that writhe and twist under his skin? Will he hurt me? And why does that thought not scare me?
"That all you got?" I allow my lips to curl. "The big, bad, alphahole Capo who loves to keep his men in check... That all you going to do to me?"
"You don’t have any sense of self-preservation, do you?"
I shake my head.
"That makes two of us."
He steps back from the edge of the sink. "On your feet."
I frown and he arches an eyebrow. "Do it," he growls, "now."
I slide down so my feet touch the floor, and my dress and the remnants of my bra fall away. I tip up my chin, hold his gaze. He reaches down, his arm moves, and I don’t need to look down to know that he’s cut through the straps holding up my panties. The fabric falls away, exposing my pussy to the air. I hold my elbows at my sides, not daring to glance down at myself.
He glances down at my core and his breathing grows ragged. "You shaved."
"Like I had a choice?" I scoff.
"You didn't," he agrees. "Part your legs for me,Belleza."
"And if I say no?"
"I’ll do it for you." His grin widens, "And trust me, I’ll enjoy it, too."
"Bastard." I slide my feet apart, and he thrusts his massive thigh between them, forcing my legs further apart.
The thick muscles feel like a column of iron against my most tender place. My core clenches and my lower belly ties itself in knots. I lock my thighs around the muscle, press my core into the rigid pillar.
His breath catches and his dark pupils seem to grow even blacker. One side of his lips twists, as he raises his knife and places the flat edge against my cheek.
