Chapter 6 #3
I snap my head around, scowling at him with all the ferocity I can muster. "Don't touch me!"
He’s completely bare except for a dark pair of briefs, and my goodness—as much as I hate to admit it—he really is a stunningly good-looking man. Every line of his chest and shoulders looks carved out of dark marble under the dim lamp light.
Dominic chuckles, running a hand through his dark hair as he settles against his pillows. His eyes gleam with dangerous amusement.
"You know, just because my leg touched yours doesn't mean you're going to get pregnant, right?" he drawls, his voice low and smooth.
"I don't care!" I snap, clutching the comforter to my chest like a shield. “Don’t touch me.”
Dominic lets out a low, dark laugh, leaning back into his pillows and folding his arms behind his head. The movement causes the thick muscles of his chest and shoulders to flex in the dim light, pulling my eyes right to them before I force myself to look back up at his face.
A slow, teasing smirk spreads across his lips, his eyes glinting with pure provocation.
"What's the matter, Rosalia?" he drawls, his voice smooth and laced with heavy amusement. "Are you confused about how this works? Do I need to sit you down and give you a lesson on what happens between a man and a woman... or did your first husband already cover that for you?"
"Dominic!" I growl, my hands gripping the sheet so tightly my knuckles turn white.
He only smirks deeper, completely unbothered by my rage. "Though I doubt a man like Luciano—who could barely carry himself—was ever capable of properly satisfying a beautiful young woman such as yourself."
"Flattery will get you nowhere," I snap, my voice sharp enough to slice glass.
Dominic scoffs, a low, smooth sound that vibrates in the quiet room. "It’s not flattery, Rosalia. It’s the truth. And I’m not trying to get you to do anything. All I’m saying is that you need to be knocked down a peg or two."
I gasp, my jaw dropping in disbelief. "Me? You’re the one who needs to be knocked down a peg or two!"
"Look at you," he says, shaking his head slowly, his dark eyes locking onto mine with terrifying intensity. "You act like you’re better than everyone else. Like you’re sitting up on some moral high throne while the rest of the world is ruined.
You need a man to put you in your place and make you beg. "
My body heats up like fire instantly. A restless, heavy sensation coils deep in my gut, forcing me to squeeze my thighs together under the silk sheets just to keep from squirming. My heart thumps frantically against my ribs.
"Beg for what?" I choke out, forcing myself to glare back at him.
"Beg to be taken," he murmurs, his voice dropping an octave, low and thick with absolute certainty. "Beg to be fucked until you're delirious and completely out of your mind. Fucked until you finally let go of that rigid control of yours and come apart."
He stares at me intently, his gaze heavy enough to melt through my skin. My face warms to a scorching, humiliating shade of crimson.
"I don't want to talk about this," I whisper, trying to keep my voice steady despite the chaotic storm raging in my chest. "And I will never have sex with you—unless you force me."
He chuckles, a low, confident sound that makes my skin prickle. "I won't force you, Rosalia. You'll come to me."
I huff loudly, turning onto my side with my back to him.
I pull the heavy comforter tight around my shoulders, my body rigid as I wait for the inevitable.
Part of me—the damaged, battle-worn part of me—half expects him to reach out, to wrap a heavy hand around my waist and force my obedience and submission the way Luciano always did.
But he doesn't. He stays firmly on his side of the mattress, leaving a vast, safe expanse of space between us.
I lie there in the dim room, staring at the far wall, but my body remains completely restless. He won't touch me. I'm safe. I should be happy about that—I am happy about that. So why is my blood still racing? Why does my skin feel like it's vibrating with this maddening, electric friction?
"Rosalia?" he calls softly into the quiet.
"Yes?" I hold my breath, my entire body locking up.
"Did Luciano treat you right?"
My heart skips a beat before slamming brutally against my ribs. My throat constricts, and I grip the sheets so hard my knuckles turn white and my hands ache. Dark memories I’ve spent months trying to bury threaten to claw their way to the surface.
"We agreed," I say, my voice tight, laced with a sharp warning as I stare into the dark. "No personal questions. We don't talk about the past."
He doesn't push. He doesn't demand an answer or use his authority to force the truth out of me.
"Goodnight, Rosalia," he says simply.
The click of the bedside lamp echoes through the room, plunging us into total darkness. Seconds later, the quiet, steady rhythm of his breathing fills the space as he goes to sleep, leaving me awake in the dark, staring into the shadows with a heart that refuses to slow down.