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My pulse is all over the place, the rhythm of my heartbeat erratic now. He allowed me to see him because he chose to. He let it happen when he wanted to. “How long have you been watching me like a creep?”

The insult doesn’t faze him. “Since the beginning.”

“Why didn’t you show yourself earlier?”

He considers the question for a couple of beats. “I enjoyed watching you. I liked seeing the men drool after you even though they couldn’t touch you.”

“How do you know they weren’t going to touch me? Who said I wouldn’t let them?”

“I’d never let that happen.”

“You’re crazy.”

He leans closer, pressing the length of his body against mine. Fixing a heated gaze on my mouth, he asks in a husky voice, “Did you save your first dance for me?”

His proximity does things to me, things I can’t control. My body tightens, and a flame licks my belly.

“Why, Angelo.” My tone is sarcastic. “Are you here to claim another first?”

He presses closer still, letting me feel his weight. His heat. The threat of his mere presence. The hardness growing against my stomach.

“Why, Sabella?” he parrots, studying me with a mocking light in his darker-than-night eyes. “Is that what you’re hoping? That I’m here to take?”

It’s difficult to breathe when he occupies all my space. It’s impossible to think with the silent nuance of that taunt trapped between us and with the truth that spills like liquid heat between my legs.

My weakness angers me. That I still want him after everything he’s done infuriates me. His power over me terrifies me.

It’s the anger and the fear that make me lash out, needling him in turn. It’s the alcohol in my blood that makes me brave. Irresponsible. “Don’t hold your breath.” My laugh is cold. “That first is no longer up for grabs.”

The change in him is instant and terrifying. Fury contorts his features. Calculation hardens the lines of his face. “Do not lie to me. Not about that.”

The thread stretches thinly between us. I sense the snap, but I don’t shut my mouth. “What? Did you really think Roch could be everywhere? In a dirty toilet stall in the mall? On the backseat of a car? In a dark parking lot? Behind the—”

The muscles of his jaw bunch as he strikes faster than I can anticipate, fisting his hand in my hair and tugging my face up. “You don’t want to go there. Not with me.”

“Oh.” I blink, making an innocent face. “I thought you might want the juicy details. Where it happened. How many times we did it.” I’m pushing, not caring that I’m taking us over the edge. “How big his cock was.”

He spits out the words. “You’re lying.”

“Really?” I hold his gaze with a brazen challenge. “Am I?”

He tightens his fingers in my hair. My scalp stings where he’s pulling the roots, but I doubt the discomfort he inflicts is conscious. He’s too consumed with fury to register the strength of his grip.

“Last chance to be honest, bella.”

I hate the invisible chains he put on me. I want to break them so badly I’ll do anything, even let him believe the lie. “It was amazing. Best fuck of my life. There. I’ve confessed. That first wasn’t yours. Do you know what the best part was? It was knowing you wouldn’t get what you wanted. That alone made every second enjoyable.”

The look in his eyes shifts. The chilling expression on his face almost makes me want to retract the untruth I told, but the impulse only lasts for a second before a buildup of frustration and resentment that stretched over months steels my heart again.

“My, you look disappointed. I bet you’re dying to know what you missed out on. Are you sure you don’t want the details, Angelo?”

“There’s only one thing I’m interested in,” he says measuredly, his nostrils flaring. “His name.”

I purse my lips.

“Who?” He shakes me. “Give me his name.”

I meet his cold rage and blazing jealousy head on, taking satisfaction from hitting him where he’s most vulnerable—his ego. “So that you can do what?” I laugh. “Get Roch to throw him in the pool? Beat him up?”

The corners of his eyes crinkle. “Never mind.” His smile is cruel. “I’ll find out.” Wrapping his free hand around my neck, he applies slight pressure. “When I kill him, it won’t matter that he’s been inside you.” He watches me, letting me see the intention in his eyes. “You know why?” He swoops in, inhaling deeply as he drags his nose over my temple before pressing a whisper on my ear. “I’m going to fuck him out of you.”

That’s when I get scared, when the promise turns me on instead of disgusting me. He lifts my hair to his nose and, like he did with my skin, breathes me in like a male animal sniffing a female. Like a predator deciding if the flesh in his claws is prey.

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