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Her eyes search mine, but I don’t know that she found what she was looking for before she drops her head back to my chest.
I know she has a lot to say. I know there are some very serious, very complicated conversations we have to have. Normally, I’d avoid them at all costs, but Madelene Lombardi isn’t the type of woman you ignore. Even if she weren’t right on top of me, my thoughts would be on her.
But then instead of opening her mouth and holding a conversation, she backs away, standing at the edge of the bed.
I watch, not supplying any help when she looks around the room. She has nothing to change into but the bloody clothes she stripped out of. I didn’t offer to have anything sent up for her, despite this expensive-ass hoity-toity hotel probably having some sort of boutique downstairs.
I hadn’t planned on letting her out of bed for a month, honestly.
She scoops up the towel she dropped during her taunting and teasing earlier and wraps it around her body. If it’s what she needs right now to put up a barrier, a faux protection for her safety, I won’t argue about it.
“What?” I ask when she huffs, my eyes locking at the hem of the towel where it barely covers her thighs.
The blood there, just the faintest of smears, draws my eyes.
“You’re fucking crazy,” she snaps, noticing what I’m staring at.
I’m slow to raise my eyes to hers. Everything about this woman gets me riled up. Even with empty balls, I still feel like a fucking animal, needing to rut into her and mark her as mine. The men who harmed her, the ones that could’ve compromised her future are dead, but there’s still this insistent need inside of me to curl around her and growl at anyone that comes within ten feet of her.
“That’s not changing either,” I assure her because those thoughts aren’t exactly sane.
“What are you thinking?” Her voice is low as if she can either read my mind or her thoughts are taking her to some weird possessive place as well.
My cock threatens to thicken once again at the idea that she may want to own me as much as I do her.
“What are your expectations?”
I stare at the mounds her tits are making just above the towel she has wrapped around her body.
“Expectations?” I bite my lip as I think. “I expect you’ll eventually be able to take my cock down your throat without gagging.”
She huffs.
“I expect you’ll complain that my cock is too big for your ass, but you’ll take me there anyway.”
I know this isn’t what she’s exactly asking about, but since she didn’t specify, I figure now would be a great time to let her into my head a little.
I’m finally able to meet her eyes when she props her hand on her hip, the classic are-you-fucking-kidding-me stance, not enough to make me reconsider what I said.
“You look like you’re about to give me a piece of your mind,” I say, trying not to smile because she’s fucking adorable. I doubt telling her so would go over very well. I hold my hands out to her. “Give me some pussy instead.”
She looks down at my now fully erect cock, chewing on the inside of her cheek as if she’s in serious contemplation about what to do.
“You will really hurt me if we go again so soon.”
There’s no tease in her voice. It’s nothing like it was when she first walked out here and I told her she’d have to pay for every bite of food she took.
Like a bastard, knowing she’s sore from where I was inside of her turns me on. I want her to feel me there. I want her thinking of me with every step she takes.
“Poor little pussy. Let me kiss it better.”
She huffs again, and I don’t know if she’s aware of the way her hips move closer just a fraction of an inch.
“I don’t really have an answer,” I tell her. “I came to Chicago to kill those assholes, so you had a choice. That’s what you said you wanted. You wanted to be able to choose the direction your life took.”
“I did.”
I sit up on the edge of the bed, grinning when she comes right to me when I hold my arms out. I pull her close, making sure she’s looking me in the eye.
“I can’t give you a choice. I’m no better than Alessio in that regard. You’re fucking mine, Mads. There can’t be any other way. When we get back to Texas, we can work on figuring out exactly how that looks, but—”
“We?” She swallows. “You want me to go with you?”
I tilt my head. “Have you not listened to a word I said?”
Her cheeks heat, flushing the prettiest pink. “I thought it was hormones and post-sex whatever making you say sweet things.”
