Violent Triumphs Read online Jessica Hawkins (White Monarch #3)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Contemporary, Romance Tags Authors: Series: White Monarch Series by Jessica Hawkins
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Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 104157 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
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The rosy flush of her cheeks pleased me. I looked forward to seeing how she’d demur or lash back when she was so clearly trying to be nice to my injured self.

But then she glanced over her shoulder. Leaned into me. Brushed her mouth along the outer shell of my ear. “Okay.”

I nearly choked. “O-kay?” I asked, not bothering to keep the surprise from my voice.

She nodded, running soft fingertips along my hairline, then against my scalp.

My eyes fell shut in pure bliss. My beautiful queen would finally give what I had practically begged for. What I’d trade my kingdom for just then.

My heart thumped, its ba-bump speeding with the machine’s beep-beep.

God, don’t let me die from satisfaction before I even truly taste it.

“I only ask one thing,” Natalia whispered in my ear.

I opened my eyes to look into her sparkling ones. “Anything.”

“If I climb onto your lap and finally take you inside me . . .”

I salivated, my hand on her arm tightening as need coursed through me. “Yes?”

“Do you promise to lie still so you don’t worsen your wounds?”

My hope crushed like a vehicle flattened to a pancake by a compactor. I could’ve cried if I didn’t have the urge to laugh. My temptress knew exactly how I’d answer. God was not merciful.

“Lie still?” I asked. “I vowed to prove that your virginity was still intact by utterly destroying it. How can I do that if I don’t move?”

“Ah. Shame.” She wet her lips, blinking lazily at me. Did she want it that bad, too? Or was she teasing me? “You may be willing to risk your life for one night of sex, but I’m not.” She kissed my cheek—her touch gentle as my body answered with desire’s violent pull. “It won’t be tonight. Or tomorrow night. But it will be,” she said. “Heal, Cristiano—so you can make good on that promise.”

Fuck me. She was ready then? Her admission was the sweetest consolation. She was going to give herself to me. I weighed the idea of delivering on my promise now and dying in the process against having to wait even longer, knowing it would finally happen, and living to enjoy it.

If I thought I could ruin her tonight without ending up on an operating table, I might’ve tried. I’d have to be content knowing there was light now where there had only been darkness before.

But if it meant opening my wife’s eyes to what we could be, I couldn’t help thinking I should’ve gotten myself nearly killed sooner.

5

Natalia

In our dimly lit master bathroom, Cristiano stood directly under a soft, warm bulb that shone on him like he was a statue in a museum. From the doorway, I admired him in the mirror. He brushed his teeth wearing only low-slung, black sweatpants that showed off the muscles rippling all the way down to a defined “V” . . . and beyond. His sculpted definition spanned so far south, I wondered if his size could be the result of some special kind of workout.

I crossed my arms over my nightgown to hide my nipples as they stood at attention. “You should be in bed.”

Gauzy bandages glowed white against his abdomen. His smooth, bronzed skin had been marred and scarred—and not just by this attack. “Doc says I’ve been healing up nice the past few days,” he said.

He put his every effort into hiding a grimace as he bent at the hip to spit in the sink, but I knew better.

“Really?” I asked. “Because I spoke to her this morning, and she wants you off your feet for at least another week.”

He snorted. “A week? No, mami. I’ll go crazy if I’m bedridden more than a few days. And it’s been a few days.”

It wasn’t the first time we’d been over this. I tried to be understanding of the fact that he’d had a traumatic experience, but I’d had one as well. Cristiano wanted to be back in action. And I . . . I didn’t ever want to suffer through the crippling fear of thinking I’d lost him again.

“You can’t recover in days,” I said. “You—”

“I’ve done it before. It’s far more dangerous for me to be off my feet, Natalia. It leaves us vulnerable.” He ran his toothbrush under the faucet. “The best way I know how to heal is to get back to work.”

“I forbid it,” I said. “I forbid you from leaving our bed.”

Cristiano paused, then glanced up at the ceiling. “Ay, Dios mío, I’ve waited a long time to hear you say that. I’m happy to stay in bed for weeks if you join me.”

He’d certainly retained his dirty mind and insatiable hunger to take me to bed. “If you have to go into surgery, you’ll be off your feet for much longer.”

“It would be worth it for a night with you.”



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