Chapter 8 #4
I barely had time to recover before he stepped into my space.
His piercing green eyes swept over me, lingering on the torn fabric hanging from my shoulders before settling on my chest.
My bra was now fully exposed, the shredded remains of my top offering little protection.
Heat flooded my face as I realized exactly what he was looking at.
This wasn’t the first time I’d caught him staring.
After I had pushed him out of the path of the bullet the night before...
At the altar, when he sliced his hand with his blade...
There had been fleeting moments when his gaze had lingered.
But this was different.
Now there was nowhere for me to hide.
Every inch of me felt painfully vulnerable beneath the weight of his attention.
Then his gaze drifted lower.
It stopped on my stomach.
My entire body stiffened.
The jagged scars stretched across my abdomen—raised, uneven lines that had faded with time but would never disappear completely. They were ugly. Permanent. A map of the night I’d nearly died pulling him from that lake all those years ago.
Before I could think, instinct took over.
I crossed my arms over my stomach, desperately trying to hide them.
Heat rushed into my cheeks.
Shame settled heavily in my chest.
I had always hated those scars.
Not because they reminded me of pain...
But because they reminded me that I had sacrificed everything for someone who never even knew it had been me.
Romeo’s eyes narrowed.
Without a word, he reached for my wrists.
“No...” I whispered, trying to pull away.
He caught them effortlessly.
I struggled, twisting against his grip, but it was hopeless.
His strength dwarfed mine.
With one hand, he gathered both of my wrists together and pinned them above my head against the wall.
My pulse thundered in my ears.
The vulnerable position sent another wave of panic through me.
The scars in my stomach now lay exposed.
Romeo simply looked.
His eyes traced every uneven line with unsettling concentration, as though committing them to memory.
For the first time since our forced marriage, there was no anger in his expression.
No contempt.
Only an unreadable stillness.
Then...
Something shifted.
It was so fleeting I almost convinced myself I’d imagined it.
A tightening around his eyes.
A flicker that resembled regret...
...or perhaps recognition.
Hope stirred before I could stop it.
Did he remember?
Did he finally see the truth?
The moment vanished almost as quickly as it had appeared.
His features hardened once more.
The walls came crashing back into place.
Whatever emotion had escaped him disappeared behind the familiar mask of cold indifference.
And I realized, with a quiet ache in my chest...
That even if his heart had recognized something...
His pride never would.
Still holding me captive, Romeo lowered his head and pressed a surprisingly gentle kiss to the valley between my breasts.
I rose onto my tiptoes, a fresh wave of shock rippling through me.
My cheeks burned with humiliation and unwanted heat.
His voice was rough, thick with raw desire. “Your stomach...”
I forced my gaze up to meet his, bracing for an insult, a cruel remark—anything to shatter the unbearable tension.
“Too ugly, I know,” I finished for him, my voice steadier than I felt.
I had always known.
He shook his head slowly, eyes dark with hunger.
“I hate the way you affects me,” he said low, voice rough with open resentment.
The confession struck me harder than another insult would have.
This wasn’t affection.
It was conflict.
A battle he was losing with himself.
My heart pounded so loudly I was certain he could hear it.
The silence stretched until it became almost unbearable.
I glanced down and saw the unmistakable bulge straining against his trousers, the zipper threatening to give way.
Heat flooded my face.
I tried to look away, terrified someone—my mother’s nurse, an aunt, or uncle—might walk in at any moment.
But Romeo grabbed my chin firmly, forcing my gaze back to his.
My mind drifted to the slick wetness dripping down my inner thighs.
I was soaked, aching, and shamefully horny.
Was this because I had loved him for so long? Because I had fantasized about him as my husband even while he was in prison—imagining his hands, his body, the way he might take me? Dreams I never thought could become reality after his life sentence.
I tried to find the words to reject him, especially after he had made his hatred so brutally clear. But instead, I nodded gently, giving him silent permission to proceed despite the insane risk of our location.
His hands moved behind my back with expert speed.
My bra fell away instantly.
How skilled was he? The thought barely registered before he lifted me effortlessly and carried me to the large dining table.
He lowered me onto the table and took one nipple into his mouth, sucking with a raw, almost angry intensity—like a man who despised the craving and still couldn’t stop.
His large hand caressed the other breast, barely able to contain its fullness.
I moaned louder than I intended, wrapping my legs around his waist, desperate for more.
He switched to the other nipple, sucking harder, like a man who’d been denying himself and finally stopped caring.
My moans spilled into the room, uncontrolled.
I no longer cared if my sick mother or the nurse could hear.
His hand slid down, tugging my jeans and panties off in one swift motion.
I was completely bare before him—the man who claimed to hate me yet clearly desired me.
Romeo pulled back slightly, staring at me with burning intensity as he slowly removed his belt.
The metallic clink heightened my anticipation.
His trousers dropped, and he freed his hard, throbbing length.
One hand returned to my breast, caressing it possessively, while the other guided his cock to my entrance, teasing my soaked folds.
He leaned over me, one arm supporting my back, and pushed in slowly.
Even though it was my first time, the pain was minimal—just a brief discomfort that quickly dissolved into overwhelming fullness and pleasure as he stretched me.
He stayed buried deep for a moment, his head resting between my breasts, breathing heavily.
Then he took a nipple into his mouth again and began to thrust.
I grabbed his back, nails digging in as he fucked me harder.
“Romeo...” I moaned his name exactly as I had in countless forbidden fantasies.
Each deep stroke built the pleasure higher, pushing me toward the edge.
“Gosh... Romeo...” The more he gave, the more I craved.
The pressure inside me coiled tighter until I couldn’t hold back.
My legs tightened around his waist as he increased his pace.
We reached our peaks almost simultaneously.
He grunted savagely against my skin as I came hard, fingers digging into his back.
His hand locked around my waist in a bruising grip while he spilled deep inside me, the release more claim than surrender.
I had never imagined sex could feel this intense, this consuming—like being claimed and undone at the same time.
Sweaty and panting, I wrapped my arms around him, our bodies still slick and pressed together despite the cool air in the room.
He pulled away gently after a moment, tucking himself back into his trousers.
His eyes lingered on my breasts once more. During the heat of the moment, I had forgotten his hatred.
All that mattered was raw desire.
I had given my virginity to the man I had secretly loved for years—the same man who hated me with a passion that never softened.
And I still didn’t know if I would spend the rest of my life regretting this moment.
Romeo adjusted his clothes with calm, practiced movements.
“Get dressed,” he said, voice still rough but already sealed behind that familiar wall of distance. “You have two hours to be home.”
There was no tenderness. No acknowledgment of what we had shared.
Nothing.
He turned and walked away, leaving me sprawled on the dining table, heart still racing, body still trembling with aftershocks.
The sound of his footsteps echoed through the house until they disappeared entirely.
The silence he left behind felt almost unbearable.
I watched the doorway long after he was gone.
Part of me wanted to call his name.
To ask him whether any of it had meant something.
Anything.
But the words never came.
My legs still felt unsteady, my entire body pleasantly exhausted, while he had walked away with the same composed stride he carried into every room.
As though the most intimate moment of my life had been nothing more than another obligation to cross off a list.
The realization hurt more than I wanted to admit.
A lump formed in my throat.
Anyone could walk in at any moment.
The thought jolted me back to reality.
I quickly gathered the torn remains of my clothes from the floor before hurrying toward my old bedroom, closing the door behind me.
The moment I was alone, another ache settled over my heart.
Raven.
The memory of her hit me with crushing force.
I sank onto the edge of the bed, closing my eyes.
How was I supposed to return to a world where she no longer greeted me at the door?
Where there would be no soft purring in the middle of the night.
No tiny paws following me from room to room.
No warm little body curling against me whenever life became too heavy to bear.
A fresh wave of grief threatened to overwhelm me.
Yarina had taken the one innocent thing I had left.
The ceramic mug I’d thrown at her suddenly seemed pitifully small compared to the fury clawing its way through me.
I wasn’t finished with her.
Not until she felt the same kind of loss she had inflicted on me. Not until she understood what it was like to have something precious ripped away and know there was nothing she could do to bring it back.
Only then would she learn that every action carried a price.
Drawing a slow breath, I crossed to the wardrobe and changed into fresh clothes.
The outfit felt less like clothing and more like armor.
After tying back my hair, I quietly left the bedroom and made my way down the familiar hallway toward my mother’s room.
I eased the door open.