Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 54092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
I don't want to be one of many he calls his. I want to be the only one.
I’m acting like a jealous brat because I am a jealous brat. He turned me into one.
"Look at me."
"Go to hell."
"I've been there for twenty years, tesoro."
"Let me go." I kick out with my foot, aiming for his shin. He evades me with embarrassing ease.
"You're asking for it, little girl," he growls.
The hairs on my arms rise at the feral sound. My clit thrums harder, screaming for attention he won't give it. Not unless I give him what he wants. Not unless I submit, and hand over my soul. It's shameful how quickly freedom loses its luster when he's looming over me like a dangerous animal pushed too far.
"Let me go," I whisper again, a wisp of sound that hangs in the air between us.
"Never," Rafe growls, unholy fire and unwavering certainty turning his eyes to molten chocolate. "I will never let you go, Amalia. How many times do I have to tell you? You're mine, mi reinita. Sono debole per te."
I'm weak for you.
"Rafe," I whimper, cracking like Humpty Dumpty falling from his wall. And just like with Humpty Dumpty, I know all the way to my soul that there will be no putting me back together again. This is it for me. Once I fall into his hands, he'll own me, body and soul.
I've never wanted anything more.
Forgive me, Diego. Oh God, forgive me.
Rafe pulls me to my feet, seaming our bodies together—soft on hard. "There are no bedmates, tesoro," he says, tipping my head back until our eyes meet. His blaze with fervent promise. "There's only you. There will only ever be you. Understand?"
I understand. My soul cries out in understanding, shaking me all the way to my foundation. It's profound, the shift that promise sets off inside me. A landslide of sensation threatens to consume me, emotion tangled so tightly together I don't stand a chance of picking them apart now. So I don't try.
I lift up on my toes, pressing my mouth to his. I don't want to talk right now. I don't want to think about this beautiful, complicated man handing me his heart. I don't want to consider how very little I deserve it or what it all means or what happens next. Right now, I don't want to think at all. I just want to feel.
Rafe growls my name, backing me toward the sofa. My knees hit the cushions and I fall backward onto the plush top. He follows me down, his hands tangling in my hair. I cry out in bliss as his body covers mine.
"Ah, tesoro," he groans, wedging one leg roughly between mine. "I've spent three nights in hell, thinking of you alone in my bed. And you question if I was with another? My cock will be your throne, mi reinita. Yours."
"Rafe," I sob.
"I smell you, tesoro. So sweet. So pure." He consumes me all over again, just like he did that first day. Only it's even better this time, even hotter. He kisses me like he doesn't ever plan to stop. His hands in my hair sting and don't sting enough. His tongue works against mine, sending me spiraling into an erotic frenzy that's unlike anything I've ever felt.
No, this man isn't cold and controlled. When he's kissing me, he's the exact opposite. He's burning hot, as desperate and out of control as I am. And yet he controls me with frightful ease. I find myself wanting to submit and cede jurisdiction of my soul to him.
I cry out in loss when he pulls away to kiss a trail down my throat.
"Shh," he whispers, nipping at my collarbone. His tongue dips into the hollow before he moves lower. His teeth close around my nipple in a sharp bite.
My entire body bows off the couch, my mouth open in a silent cry of ecstasy. My clit pulses so hard I feel it everywhere, as if every nerve ending in my body fires with it.
I want to beg him to do it again, but he doesn't give me a chance. He moves lower, his dark head bent over my stomach. He places his lips to my belly, making it quiver and dance beneath his touch. Even through my top, his touch sears me. It's intimate, gentle, almost…worshipful.
"Bellissima," he breathes, he chocolate eyes scorching. I don't doubt he means it. I can't. He finds me and all my flaws beautiful. To him, I'm not fat or a whale or any of the things other men call me. I'm perfect. I think he would hunt down everyone who ever called me names if I'd let him.
He moves lower, dragging my skirt up my hips. He keeps his gaze locked on mine, holding me captive. I don't breathe. I can't. I don't stop him either. I don't want to stop him. Whatever he's about to do to me, I want it. Desperately.