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“That you’re weak,” I whisper. He warned me. And what feels so wrong is I believed him. I just didn’t think I would be so stupid as to be the cause of a man’s death. Then I remember what else he said—I would pay too. In what way am I going to pay? I wonder as the SUV speeds along the city streets.
Chapter22
Celia
I can’t bringmyself to say another word. When the SUV keeps driving past my house, I know we’re going to Milos’s home. I wonder if it’s safer there then remember how remote his wing of the house felt.
The silence is deafening by the time the SUV stops in front of the house. The front door opens for us before my shaking hand reaches for the door handle.
Milos opens the door, pulling me out. His hand around my arm in a punishing grip. His long legs eat up ground so fast I’m nearly running to keep up with him. At the stairs, I’m over his shoulder again.
From upside down and over his shoulder, I lose all orientation of where we are or even how we’re getting there. All I know is I’m tossed on a bed then the light is on. It’s the room I was in the last time I was here.
His hands are down on the bed. Running my eyes over him, fear prickles up my spine. Milos is clenching the bedsheets tight. “If you wanted my attention, all you needed to do was say something. I’ve been busy but I would have made time for you.”
Damn it, tears are falling all over again. “I don’t feel safe with you enough to tell you what I want.”
He closes his eyes as his head goes back. Yellow shimmers with sadness. Shaking his head, he runs his hand through his hair. “Get some sleep. You aren’t leaving. Your place is here now.”
I’m off the bed, grabbing his arm. “Carlo will lose his shit. I’m sorry, Milos, but please don’t start World War Three because I was—”
An eyebrow goes up at my hand on his arm. I let go. “There will be no war. We’re already married. Between your constant need to push me, and your father pulling bullshit about wanting to renegotiate, which didn’t make any fucking sense but he called Dominic a few nights ago. So all that paperwork you signed, one was a marriage license. The marriage certificate was signed off already. We will still have the wedding ceremony, but now no one can take you away from me.”
Machiavelli has nothing on this man, not a fucking thing.
“Go to bed. I promised myself I would never touch you in anger. I’m not going to start tonight.” Milos begins to walk away.
How could he walk away? Where was my punishment? Why can’t he spend five fucking minutes with me? “Fuck you!”
He stops, slowly he turns to face me. My stomach twists. I’m so fucked up because scalding wet heat hits my panties at the violence flowing from him in waves. I blink and his hand is around my throat. “Every time I touch you it’s difficult for me to control myself; it’s even harder when I’m angry. I’m trying to contain my anger—fight against the way I want to fuck you so violently you never for one second forget you are mine and belong to me. Thatisn’thow the first time should be for any woman.”
“I want you to lose control. I want all of you. I’m tired of you holding back. Fuck me,muzh,” I taunt him.
The wordhusbanddoes something to him, turning those yellow eyes feral. A growl comes out of his chest. He tightens his hand around my throat as he brings me up to his mouth. His hot tongue ravages me, demanding, taking, owning. I give up to him, needing more—all of him.
I’m in his arms then down on the bed. I stare—unwilling to blink as Milos tears his jacket off. Tugging the black tie down, he drops it without care as those yellow eyes promise me everything I asked for. Nimble fingers undo the black diamond cuff links at his wrists. Inch by inch honey skin appears, no undershirt is covering him.
Holy fucking shit, my mouth waters as I take in the way muscle and sinew bunch and move. Tattoos are all over him from below his neck to his stomach. Roman numerals across his heart. Laurel leaves below his neck. A large star in the center of his chest and a large lion tattoo covers his stomach, staring at me proudly. My fingers itch to trace every one of the tattoos, to discover—oh shit. As he pushes both pants and boxers down in one movement, his long, thick cock slaps against his stomach. How the hell could I have forgotten how large he is and how uncomfortable just two fingers were?
Fear sizzles up my spine but isn’t enough to keep my core from clenching tight with need for himthere. I don’t care how much it might hurt. I wonder where the moan echoing in the room comes from, only to realize it’s from me.
Both hands come down on the bed beside me. “Remember when you are aching and in pain tomorrow that this is the way you wanted it.”
I shiver at the smoky words wrapping around me. The shiver isn’t from fear, it’s from anticipation that has me on a knife’s edge. “More than four years, I’ve been waiting for this, Milos. Shut up and fuck me already,” I demand.
Milos
My cock jumps painfullyto be inside her. Far be it from me to deny her. What she wants I will give her. Every damn time.
I tear the sheer facsimile of a blouse in two, glad every fucking button goes flying because she will never wear this again. Anger fires through she dared to wear it in the first place. The black lace bra opens with a flick of my fingers.
The sight of her gorgeous breasts high, round and swollen, only inches from me—at last close enough to touch—is a gut punch. One thousand five hundred and fifty-two days I have waited for this,forher.
“Milos.” She moans low. Her nipples tighten beneath my gaze. The lion within me roars this woman is mine. Mate with her, mark her, not only her body but her heart and soul so she never forgets who is her first, only, and forever.
Grasping the skirt, I yank it with her panties off her. Unlike the first time I saw her delicious body, I take the time to study every inch of her. Awe blooms within me. Celia is stunning in her beauty. I’m going to learn every inch of her silky skin by touch, then by tongue very, very slowly. Next time.
This time I’m giving her what she wants. What I need, to fuck her hard, fast, rough, to satisfy this aching desire four years in the making.
