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My smile widens as the dress covers me, the old me finally creeping out. I roam through the closet some more, opening drawers to find the bras and underwear she got me. When I shift through the last drawer, a presence fills the small space of the closet. An overwhelmingly dark presence that chokes me as soon as I feel it.
“Well, well, playing a little dress-up, are we?” Marco’s ominous voice pours over me like a bucket of ice water.
I stand up straight immediately, my hands knotted in front of me as a deep blush spreads across my face and chest, my eyes aimed to the floor. I can’t bear to look at him right now, I’m too embarrassed. Embarrassed for being excited, how fucked up is that?
“Don’t be shy now, princess. Show me what you’ve tried on,” he hisses menacingly, my spine erupting with chills as I finally lift my head and stare at him.
He is dressed in a dark suit, smelling of bourbon and cologne. He doesn’t have his glasses on, but from what I can tell, his hair is a mess. He is in an even darker mood today than he has been before, which makes my anxiety spike. Mariella can’t protect me after all.
“Are you here to tie me up again?” I whisper, trying to not let my voice crack.
He stares at me for a while, the heat of his gaze burning all over my exposed flesh. I feel it from my toes to my head, the intensity of it lingering on my breasts, which makes my womb clench in response.
“I’m here to tell you that your family is frantic. They’ve torn this city apart for you, Lori. And I almost have them right where I want them,” he boasts, approaching me before his hand grabs my chin roughly, lifting my face up to meet his gaze.
I swallow the lump in my throat, willing the scared tears back that formed when he mentioned my family.
Be strong, Lori. Do it for them.
“What do you want now, Marco?” I whisper, searching his face as his fingers bruise my chin.
“More of my vengeance,” he breathes harshly before his lips descend and crush against mine in a violent kiss.
CHAPTERTWELVE
Lori
His kiss is rough and aggressive, leaving me with no choice but to take it. His hand is still gripping my chin, the skin likely to bruise by morning. I am lost in his kiss, overwhelmed and by shock by the abruptness of it all. His free hand moves behind me, latching onto my bottom roughly before he yanks me forward, plastering me to his solid chest. I hate that he smells so fucking good, like leather and rich cologne. I hate that even though his lips taste like liquor, somehow, they are still sweet. Like a fruit that I’ve never been able to find, but have been craving to try for an eternity. I let out a yelp against his bruising kiss when he swats my bottom, his fingers gripping my skin, causing me to tremble in his hold. I can’t move, I can barely breathe. All I can do isfeel.
He breaks away from the kiss as soon as I begin to fall into it. Without any words or looks, he pulls me by my wrist towards the bedroom before he throws me onto the bed, my free hands now moving to my thighs, clenching my dress so that he doesn’t have a view of my underwear. Not that I wouldn’t want him to, I’m just a little taken aback by all of this. Then again, this is Marco and all he has done since I’ve known him is surprise me. He stalks me on the bed, stopping in between my knees as he peers down at me. I can’t really see his gaze, but dear God, do I feel it. It burns me all over, from head to toe and lingering on my thighs that I self-consciously try to cover with my dress.
“Why are you trying to hide from me, Lori?” he grunts, like the beast that he is.
I shake my head quickly, averting my eyes as they land on the hem of the sundress.
“I’m not,” I croak out, my voice nothing but a scared whisper.
I sound more frightened than I feel. After talking with Mariella about him again, I’ve allowed myself to peer into a softer side of him. I’ve allowed my heart to think that maybe, there is a man behind the angry mask. Perhaps he’s not the ruthless demon that he’s tried so hard to become. Perhaps, there is a human deep inside of him that just needs some coaxing to come out. On the other hand, after the bullshit he’s put me through, I don’t know if I really want to be the person to do the coaxing.
“You fear me, don’t you?” He asks, his hand going to my hair as I remain silent, wrapping around my strands before he yanks my head up with is rough grasp, forcing me to look up at him.
“Answer me,” he orders.
“I don’t fear you. I fear what you make me feel,” I admit and that takes him aback because he falls silent, his hand still gripping my hair as he stares down at me.
“And what do I make you feel?” His voice thick with an emotion that I cannot identify.
I sigh, biting down on my lips as my eyes search his blurry face.
“Confused. Anxious. Lonely,” I say, the last word coming out against my own volition.
He seems intrigued by this, because his hand tightens in my hair, causing a soft whimper to leave my lips.
“I make you feel lonely?” He asks, amusement in his voice, making anger swell inside of my stomach.
“No. This whole situation makes me feel lonely.” Fuck making him feel special.
“I see,” he says quietly, releasing my hair from his tight grasps, but not moving.
