CHAPTER 3 #2
That broke the dam. The drugs, the dark, the absolute certainty that I was going to dismantle her piece by piece—it stripped away the aristocratic mask entirely.
Her lower lip started to tremble. Her eyes glazed over with pure, unadulterated panic.
She started shaking so hard the metal legs of her chair rattled against the concrete floor.
She bit down on her lip, a bright bead of blood blooming against her pale skin to match the red of her dress.
"Please..." Her voice cracked, sounding like a little girl's. "You can't do this. Stronzo, let me go!"
She drew in a massive, ragged lungful of air and screamed. It wasn't a cry for help; it was a raw, throat-tearing shriek that bounced violently off the limestone walls and vibrated straight into my fucking teeth. The tendons in her neck stood out like wires. "HELP ME! ALESSIO! SOMEONE!"
She sucked in more air and did it again.
The high-pitched noise drilled into my skull, poking right at the jagged edges of my self-control.
I gripped the back of her metal chair so hard the rusted iron groaned under my hands.
"Puttana, basta! I said quiet! Don't make me do something we'll both regret. "
She ignored me. She geared up for a third scream, trying to use the only weapon she had left to rupture my eardrums. I slammed both my hands down flat onto the arms of her chair, leaning my entire body weight forward.
I caged her in completely. I became a wall of muscle and heat, trapping her between the hard metal backrest and my own chest. The heavy Kevlar plates of my tactical vest pressed right up against her heaving, silk-clad breasts with every breath she took. My face was two inches from hers.
"Look at where you are," I snarled. "There is no one coming. Shut. Your. Mouth."
She stopped screaming just long enough to start spitting pure venom, thrashing her knees wildly against my thighs. "Bastardo! Vaffanculo! Kill me then, you coward!"
My hand snapped up. I tangled my fingers deep into the thick chestnut hair at the base of her skull and yanked her head backward with enough force to make her gasp, a few strands wrapping tightly around my fingers like silk thread.
The physical contact blew right past clinical interrogation and straight into something volatile and dark.
She wanted a fight. She wanted to goad me into killing her right here so she wouldn't have to wait seven days.
I wasn't going to give her the fucking mercy.
To kill the next insult clawing its way up her throat, I crashed my mouth down against hers.
It wasn't a kiss. It was a collision of teeth and a violent tactical maneuver to steal her air.
My nose brushed harshly against hers as I smothered her protests, my lips hard and punishing.
I tasted the salt from the tears tracking down her face and the sharp copper tang from where she'd bitten her own lip.
She fought back instantly. She arched her spine, shoving her chest up against mine, completely unintentionally generating a friction that sent a spike of heavy, unwanted adrenaline straight into my groin.
She tried to bite my tongue. I moved my free hand to her throat, my fingers wrapping around her windpipe to tilt her head even further back, asserting absolute dominance.
It was a messy, frantic wrestling match disguised as a kiss.
She whimpered angrily into my mouth, the sound muffled and vibrating against my lips, while the slick slide of her silk dress ground against the rough canvas of my gear.
I bit down hard on her swollen lower lip, marking her. The metallic taste of her blood flooded my mouth, and I swept my tongue over the wound, a pure predatory reflex that made my own hands shake.
"You're mine to break, Fiorella," I muttered roughly against her mouth, my thumb resting heavy right over her hammering pulse. "Remember that taste."
I abruptly tore my mouth away from hers, ripping the contact before I did something completely unhinged like drag her out of that chair and onto the concrete floor.
We were both gasping, ripping the oxygen out of the small room.
Her lips were red, swollen, and smeared with blood.
Her eyes were huge and dazed, staring at me with a terrifying mix of hatred and a brand new, suffocating awareness.
A single drop of her blood transferred onto my own chin.
"Still want to scream?" I panted, my voice sounding completely wrecked. "I have plenty of ways to keep you quiet."
I wiped the blood off my chin with the back of my hand, never breaking eye contact. I leaned down one last time, my voice dropping to a dangerous, vibrating growl right near her mouth. "One more sound and I come back. And next time, I won't be as gentle. Understood?"
She stared at me, her chest heaving, and gave one jerky, stiff nod.
I immediately stepped backward, breaking the cage of my body heat around her.
I picked up my knife from the tray, folded it shut with a definitive clack, and shoved it into my pocket.
I straightened my vest, yanking the straps to get my head back into the fucking game.
"Enjoy the solitude. Renato will be by with water in the morning. Don't try anything with him."
I turned my back on her, walked out of the room, and slammed the heavy iron door shut. The boom echoed down the mountain corridor. I threw the heavy deadbolt, locking her in the dark.
I turned and leaned my back flat against the freezing, damp stone wall of the hallway.
I ran a shaking hand over my face, my fingers lingering over my mouth where the ghost of her taste was still burned into my skin.
My heart was kicking against my ribs like a jackhammer.
I slammed my fist into the stone wall beside my head, the dull thud doing absolutely nothing to settle the blood rushing south.
"Cazzo," I breathed to the empty hallway.
Ten years of planning, and it took two minutes of her fighting back to realize I had a massive, raging problem I couldn't shoot my way out of. Not her. Anyone but her.