Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 46926 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46926 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
“Yes,” I manage, but my body betrays me as his hands grip my waist. The jets pulse against my back while steam rises around us, wrapping us in our private little world. Damien’s thumbs trace circles on my hips, making me shiver despite the heat.
“Let me make it better,” he commands rather than asks, typical Damien. His fingers dig into my flesh. “Show me you’re still mine. Even when you’re angry.”
I want to resist, to prove I’m not so easily controlled, but when he enters me, I can’t help the moan that escapes. The water makes everything slick as I take him deeper, my anger morphing into desperate need. The champagne has gone straight to my head, making everything feel dreamlike and intense.
“That’s it,” he growls, one hand fisting in my hair while the other grips my hip. “Look at me while you fuck me, Francesca. Show me who you belong to.” His eyes lock onto mine, filled with an undeniable possessiveness and something dark.
And flat out delicious.
“Damien…” I gasp as he hits that perfect spot. My hands brace against his broad shoulders, feeling the muscles flex beneath my fingers. He controls our pace, slower than I want, making me feel every inch.
“Say it,” he demands, holding me still when I try to move faster. “Tell me you’re mine. Only mine.”
“Please,” I whimper, trying to grind against him, but his grip is iron.
“Say. It.” His voice brooks no argument. Water laps at my breasts as I tremble in his grasp.
“I’m yours,” I say, and he rewards me by letting me move again. God help me, I love how he takes control, even as part of me rebels against it. My mind flashes to his earlier disappearance, but his touch drowns out my doubts.
The water churns around us as we chase orgasms together. His possessive touches, his commanding tone should frighten me by how much power he has over me. But it doesn’t. It actually drives me wild. Every brush of his fingers, every demanding kiss makes me forget why I was angry.
“Come for me, pet,” he orders, and my body obeys instantly, pleasure crashing through me as I cry out his name.
As we catch our breath, he brushes my lips with his thumb, his other hand still tangled in my hair. “You belong with me,” he says, and I shiver at the darkness in his tone. “No matter what happens, you’re mine, Francesca. Do you understand me?”
I should be terrified by how completely he owns me, by the possessive glint in his eyes. Instead, I melt into him, pushing away the warning bells in my head. Questions about where he goes, what he does can wait.
At least for tonight.
He reaches for the champagne, refilling our glasses. “To us,” he says, but it sounds more like a claim than a toast. I clink my glass against his, trying to ignore his earlier words.
No matter what happens.
What exactly does he think is going to happen?
And that’s when it dawns on me. This is all a game to him, the whole damn thing. Damien’s a master of seduction, and he uses it like a weapon to keep me on my toes.
Is he playing me?
Does he even love me?
I want to believe he does, but now I have a nagging thought there’s something darker at play.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Damien
Frankie wants answers and my plan was to wait a few more weeks, but now my plans have to change.
I can adapt as necessary. I’ve been doing it for years.
I step outside, the crisp mountain air invigorating me. The sun barely peeks over the treetops, and I take off at a jog, enjoying the rhythm of my feet against the earth and the quiet solitude of the mountains.
I need to tell her about my time at Hope House. It wasn’t just difficult; it was hell. A place meant for healing turned into a nightmare where Olivia and I met our demons. That’s why I lost control. Olivia paid the price for choices of evil men, and I can’t ever let that go.
I pause to catch my breath and drop into a set of squats, feeling the burn in my legs. With each squat, I try to push away the memories, but they remind me of that night when we were just children.
After finishing my squats, I stretch my legs, bending to touch my toes and then reaching for the sky. It helps clear my mind, if only for a moment.
I know it’s time to let Frankie in on my past. She’s my wife now and technically, they can’t make her testify against me if she doesn’t want to. But I think she deserves to know the truth about who I am and what I’ve done.
I never planned on falling in love. And now I must use that love to protect myself.