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‘Everything with Amalia can be worked out, though not if you run away from me. I haven’t even had a chance to exin things to you.” Again, he grabs my leg, and I p his hand away again. I can’t think straight while he’s touching me.
“Exin?!” My voice raises, anger raining down on me. “There would be nothing to exin if you would’ve let me decide for myself,” I remind him, closing my legs tight while folding my arms over my chest. Thest thing I want to do is deny him, for it means denying myself. I have to remain strong, however. Especially when I crave him too much. It would be so easy to give in and think it overter.
“To decide what?” he challenges.
“Why should I allow you the opportunity to exin yourself when you didn’t give me the chance to decide if I wanted to be the other <b>woman</b>? You didn’t even tell me you two were still married. Do you have any idea how humiliating it was for her toe in and throw that in my face<b>? </b>And there I <b>was</b>, embarrassed, wishing the floor would swallow me up.”
“Amalia is no one. Just a conniving bitch trying to break down everyone around her. Don’t let her get inside your head.”
“She didn’t. You did.” This time, when I reach for the door handle, he takes my hand and engulfs <b>it </b>in his. A silent reminder that he <b>is </b>much bigger than me and that I don’t stand a chance if I try to fight back. “What happened, it reminded me of everything I went through…” I can’t even say his name.
“You did nothing wrong. Neither of us did.” Gianni tries to soothe me, but his words mean shit. If we weren’t doing anything wrong, there wouldn’t have been a need to hide the fact that he was still married to her. Would you <b>have </b>crossed that line <b>knowing </b>that, though? I don’t know the answer to that question. Iwanted Gianni for as long as I could remember except lust grew into something else somewhere along the way.
“Caterina. I’m begging you to understand. The thought of losing you kills me. I can’t breathe or think clearly without you. Let’s talk this out and work through our problems.” His voice is low, almost hypnotic, and already I know he’s reaching the <b>deep </b>depths of my soul. My body is awakened by his voice and the nearness of his body. It’s pitiful how r I desire him. The crotch of my panties is already soaked, and my core tightens, begging me to give in to him. I want to, badly, but I’m reminded of how heartbroken I am by the heavy thump of my beating heart.
“<b>Who’s </b>to say I want to work through anything?”
<b>“</b><b>Oh</b>, little <b>bird</b>” He leans in, looming over me, one hand on the door, the other on the back of the seat. His arms cage me in. I was already caged. My heart and soul are locked away, and he has the only key.
No matter how much I want to push him away and spit in his <b>face</b>, all I can do is tremble as he lowers his head inch by inch, Moving closer like a cobra readying itself to strike. I <b>watch </b>carefully, ready to push him away or turn my face if he attempts to kiss me, but like always, he surprises me. He swerves at thest second, brushing his lips <b>against </b>my neck instead of my mouth. “It’s fine if you want to pretend you don’t want me,” he whispers, and icy tendrils wrap around my heart. “Pretend all you want. The truth is evident to both of us.”
“What truth?” I whisper, closing my eyes, bracing myself like that will <b>do </b>anything to help. I’m already breaking down, melting, all that resolve disappearing in favor of the absolute inferno zing between my thighs. Thinking with my pussy will only get my heart broken, but Gianni has a way of making me forget that as he <b>rearranges </b>my organs.
“Love me or hate me, it doesn’t matter. We belong together.” He Lifts his head enough to look me in the eyes<b>, </b>and I want to give in God, I need to. I was never <b>going </b>to win, so what’s the point in fighting anymore<b>? </b>
“No.” My voice is <b>weak</b>, faint, like what’s left of my resolve at this point. I have to at least tell myself I tried.
make
His liquid gaze <b>hardens</b>, going cold all at once. “Maybe I need to remind you of what we have, and the only way I <b>know </b>I can
you feel. I’m not sure what’s happened in that head of yours <b>over </b>thest two days, but I already warned you that <b>there </b>was no going back once we crossed that bridge. You’re mine, and will do anything I have to do to keep you.” His deration might have been <b>romantic</b>, it it wasn’t filled with references that make me appear to be an object rather than a person.
“You don’t <b>want </b>a rtionship with me.” I <b>lean </b>back <b>as </b><b>far </b><b>as </b>I can turning my face away. He doesn’t even give me that courtesy as his thick fingers reach out and grasp onto my chin, holding it finly while forcing the to face him.
“Please “I lock my legs behind him, holding him in ce. “Please, fill me up. Give it to me.”
There is no reason for this. It makes no sense. Why do I want this? I only know I do. I do so much. His groaning reaches a feverish pitch, hard and fast like his thrusts, and on the final one he drives deep and stays there. A rush of heat follows his
deafening roar, and I have no idea why it feels so satisfying to know he’s emptying himself inside me. When he pulls me closer, winding his arms around my back and holding me against his chest–where his heart pounds almost shockingly fast–it feels right. Like I was always meant to be here.
At least until Ie back to my senses. The rush of euphoria dies, and I’m left knowing he got to me again. He broke me down against my will. <b>And </b>I loved it.
Disappointment takes root and spreads through me <b>until </b>I can do nothing but push against his chest with both hands. “Let me go,” I grunt, pushing again, until finally he loosens his grip. Maybe it’s surprise. Maybe he already got what he wants, but either way, he lets go so I can sit up.
“What’s wrong
ow?” he <b>demands </b>in a growl, still hovering possessively over me while I try to pull myself together.
“<b>We </b>shouldn’t <b>have </b>done that.”
“<b>ording </b>to whom?” He runs a hand over my hair, clicking his tongue. “Will you ever stop denying yourself what you want? Who cares what the rest of the world thinks, or if it’s right or wrong.”
It isn’t the rest of the world I care about. It’s the fact that I just begged the man who might have killed my mother toe inside <ol><li>me. I don’t know who <b>I </b><b>am </b>anymore. I don’t know <b>how </b>to feel. </li></ol>
Stroking my hair, he murmurs, “Don’t you know you belong to me? I don’t say that lightly. There is no other woman in the world I’d rather be with.”
His hand cups the back of my head, his fingers pressing against my <b>scalp </b>as he turns my face toward his. He narrows his eyes, lifting his lip in something close to a <b>snarl</b>. “Much lesse inside I’m not going to waste time fighting the inevitable. I know
hand over my jaw. you belong to me, Caterina. You are mine, and I am all you’ll ever need.” He trails the fingers of hi When are you going to wake up and realize this<b>, </b><b>as </b>I’m not going to stop until you do.”
The thing is<b>, </b>my traitorous body agrees with him. The slightest touch, and I’m shivering, fighting the urge to melt into his arms. But I can’t. I can’t betray Mom like that–and until I know the truth it will always feel like a betrayal.
I manage to turn my face away, <b>shaking </b>off his touch. “No. We’re wrong for each other. You’re wrong for me. Why don’t I get a say in this?”
“Because I know better, and I’m older and wiser.‘
“You don’t, though.” I feel him dripping from my pussy as I pull my clothes together, trying to show a little dignity, even though dignified is thest word thates to mind whenever we’re together. “This can’t happen again. I don’t want it to happen again.”
“You know <b>you </b>do.”
“Stop telling me what I know!” I snap, and the way he recoils in surprise gives me strength “I know how I feel, and this makes me feel awful. Rotten and wrong. You can’t say you care about <b>me </b><b>or </b>want me if you <b>don’t </b>care that my being with you like this makes me feel terrible about myself. It doesn’t work that <b>way</b>.”
“Fine, then,” he sighs. “Let’s talk about it.”
“There is nothing to talk about,” I insist. “We’re nothing. This was only sex and a mistake at that. I’m finished.”
On the one <b>hand</b>, it feels good saying what’s weighing on my heart On the other, the hurt touching his eyes and tugging the corners of his inouth downward makes me feel small. I don’t <b>want </b>to hurt him, no matter how he’s hurt me with his thoughtlessness and possessiveness.
Then, it’s like somebody flipped a switch. His face goes smooth, ed. Those dark eyes of lus be icy pools of <b>water</b>. “Very well.”
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