Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Gloria steps out, cutting our unpleasant exchange short, and comes back to the bed. When she starts fitting a new pair of surgical gloves, I shoot upright.
Angelo stops her with a hand on her arm. “I’ve got it from here. You can go.”
Offering me a warm greeting, she packs up the rest of her equipment, minus the tubes of cream, and leaves.
“What are you doing?” I ask, leaning on my elbows as Angelo uncaps a tube.
“Stop fussing.” He squirts a blob on his finger. “It’s an antiseptic lotion to prevent infection.”
“I can do that.”
“Be still.”
I jerk when he rubs the lotion over the top of my pelvis, outlining his mark before tracing a line to the seam of my inner thigh.
“I’m already doing it,” he continues.
I relax only marginally. I don’t want him to touch me, especially not like this. It’s too intimate. Too caring. And he doesn’t care about me. The only thing that matters to him is the business deal our marriage sealed.
The light brush of his fingertips over the sensitive areas between my legs makes my stomach contract with a flutter. It’s an involuntary reaction, but it’s no less potent. His touch is like poison, a very sweet poison that’s both deadly and alluring. I can’t help but feel it where it matters, all the way to my core and deeper, right in the bruise that grows in my heart.
The most disturbing fact is that the reaction isn’t only physical. A part of me needs the meticulous gentleness he administers. I need it to compensate for the brutality of his intentions, yet I can’t allow myself to derive comfort from him. That would be a mistake. He’s a hardened murderer, a selfish criminal only interested in furthering his own agenda.
A voice in the back of my head says my silence made me an accomplice to murder, that we’re cut from the same cloth, but I don’t allow that thought to linger.
Steeling myself, I push his hand away. “That’s enough. You covered everything.”
He grins. “Not by a long shot. Turn over.”
My fake show of confidence slips. “What?”
He caps the tube and opens the second. Arnica. “Turn on your stomach.”
“I don’t need arnica.”
“Don’t tell me my belt hasn’t left welts.”
“Whose fault is that?”
“Come on, wisecrack. Don’t test me.” He lifts the towel from my breasts. “I’m not in the mood to repeat the lesson of earlier.”
Gritting my teeth, I do as he says while watching him from over my shoulder.
He warms the lotion in his palms before massaging it into my globes. He’s careful to keep his touch light.
When he’s done, he instructs me to stay while he washes his hands. Bending my elbows and resting my cheek on my forearm, I watch him through the open door of the bathroom as he dries his hands and folds back his sleeves. He flicks off the light before returning, only leaving the dim ceiling lights in the cabin on.
“Gloria was supposed to give you a massage,” he says, stopping at the side of the bed. “I decided it would be more fun to do it myself.”
I tense all over again. “I don’t need a massage.”
“It’ll help you relax.”
“I don’t need to relax.”
He chuckles. “Stop being so obstinate. You’ll make things easier for yourself if you learn to cooperate.”
“If I obey, you mean.”
He takes a bottle from the nightstand and pours oil into his palm. “That’s what you promised. Must I remind you? I can have your vow framed and hung above our bed.”
“Fuck you,” I say, making to get up, but he pushes me down with a hand on my lower back.
“Keep still. You’ll get oil on the sheets.”
“Not my problem.”
“That mouth of yours.” He shakes his head. “It is very pretty. Can’t say the same for the words coming out of it. I can always find a better use for those luscious lips.”
I bite my tongue to prevent myself from replying.
“However,” he says, “I’m glad you recovered your spirit.”
The reference to my earlier meltdown makes my spine goes rigid. I don’t relax when he brushes my hair aside and rubs the oil over my shoulders. The oriental fragrance of ylang ylang fills my nostrils. It’s strange that he chose an oil known for its aphrodisiac properties when his goal is to relax me.
I remain on edge even as he kneads my muscles with firm but gentle pressure. He’s thorough, covering every inch of my skin as he works his way down to my lower back. I groan when he presses on sensitive points at the base of my spine. Skipping my globes, he pays attention to my thighs and calves and finally to my feet. When he gets to my toes, it feels so good I close my eyes.
He slaps my ass playfully. “On your hands and knees.”
“Why?” I ask, quickly opening my eyes again.