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Lashing his hand out, he grips the hem of the t-shirt I’m wearing—his shirt, I’m realizing—and yanks it up, exposing my dress. A few of the ties have loosened, making it sag away from my skin, but it’s still plastered against my chest, pushing my breasts together obscenely.
Elia’s eyes darken, pools of unbidden desire, and he presses the tip of the blade to the middle of my chest, applying the slightest pressure. It’s a pinprick, like getting tested for mono, and it sets an inferno ablaze in my heart.
Something is seriously wrong with me.
He pulls back, the knife ghosting over my skin, and pauses with it poised at the seam of the dress. “Were you going to kill Todd Davis?”
I shake my head, and he pauses, tilting his, studying me. My nostrils flare at the proximity of the knife, an awareness that he quite literally holds my life in his hands flooding through me, scattering goosebumps over my flesh.
Kneeling on the bed, he uses his free hand to tug the t-shirt up and over my head, tossing it to the ground. His palm flattens against my breasts, pressing me back into the mattress.
He hikes his leg over me, straddling my thighs on his knees, and my eyes close against the sensations swarming in me. Hot, heady need flashes through my body, a fever I’m not going to be able to sweat out.
The back of the blade glides across my collarbone, smooth as silk. I swallow over the lump in my throat, hoping he can’t see just how affected I am by this.
Hell, who am I kidding?The stuttered breaths falling from my parted lips are a dead giveaway.
“Do you like this?”
My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth, and my fingertips tingle, but I remain quiet.
“Answer the question,mio amore.” Elia’s tongue joins the fray, licking up the trail of fire the knife leaves behind. He laves around the base of my throat, teeth scraping against spots the blade explores, and my body jerks beneath his. “Keep your eyes closed and answer me.”
“Which one?” I’m hoarse, throat clogged with want.
I feel him shift, feel the knife strain against my dress, and when I peek through hooded lids, I watch as he slices through the material, splitting it down my middle. Pushing it from my breasts, he cups one in his large hand, rubbing the pad of his thumb over my hardened nipple.
“The first one. I can tell by the way you’re squirming beneath me that you fucking love this.”
My back bows, arching away from the mattress, but he moves again, sitting on my stomach, keeping me in place. “No panties,” he growls, a slight quiver in his voice that sends electricity singing through my veins. “Naughty girl.”
Feathering kisses on the inside of my thighs, one hand still massaging my breast, I feel the knife slide along my side, cool against my heated flesh. The whole situation feels dirty, depraved, and I’m starting to see stars.
Elia Montalto isn’t a fucking king; he’s agod.
He licks up my seam, the tip of his tongue delving between my slick folds, and presses the dull edge of the blade into my belly button, dragging his hand down. Metal accompanies his tongue, the juxtaposition of the two temperatures making my thighs quake.
Blowing on my clit, he probes my entrance with the handle, and a soft whimper escapes me at the intrusion. “Answer me.”
“I don’t remember the question.”
“Yes, you do.” My eyes start to open, exasperated, but he tsks. A sharp stab at my pussy wracks a shiver down my spine, fear heating my blood. “Eyes closed,mio amore.”
I clench my jaw. “No, I wasn’t going to kill him.”
“But you wanted him dead. His name was on that list.”
My walls crumble, the barrier between us stretching thin; it snaps as the knife comes up and rounds my ear, nicking the shell. A soft gasp escapes me; I go to open my eyes and retreat, but Elia’s free hand clamps over me, keeping me in darkness.
“I’m not going to hurt you, Caroline.”
I scoff, feeling shaky. “I’ve heard that before.”
“Baby, the difference here is that I actually mean it.”
“You hurt me just by being nice to me.”
I can’t see him, but I feel the moment his body tenses, muscles seizing up. He shifts, pelvis digging into mine, and moves his hand. But I don’t open my eyes.
