Page 94 of Unchained

She bites my lip, hard enough for me to start tasting copper.

“I was hoping you’d say that; that’s why I already told my brother to leave my stuff in your house,” she whispers.

I growl, pulling her onto my lap. She played me… again. And I’m not even mad.

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

Gianna

The next day…

It sucked leaving Greece. I’d vote to stay there longer. But we have new issues to deal with. Like a stupid ass biker gang.

“So… which one is my room?” I ask as I follow Colten up the stairs.

He ignores me and turns to face me when he reaches the top.

“My wife sleeps beside me in my bed,” he says, pointing to the room on the far left.

I breeze past him and strut down the hallway. I’m already in love with his house. It’s ten times the size of the one he put Dom and me in. The high wooden ceilings, the cobbled stone. It’s very rancher, but also homely. I was too murderous after the wedding night to pay attention to architecture.

I pause when I reach for the handle.

“Wait… So our wedding night, you didn’t even fuck me in your bed?”

He glances away, and I cackle. “You’re a dick, Colten Sterling.”

“I know,” he admits.

And I appreciate that more than he’ll know.

“Am I about to walk into some kind of sex dungeon?” I ask.

He stops right behind me, my back against his chest, and says, “I don’t know, viper. Open it and find out.”

Holding my breath, I do as he says, only to find a normal-looking bedroom. A four-poster bed in the middle. Views of the the mountains. A TV on the wall. Behind that, a bathroom that’s the same size as the bedroom, with a hot tub bath and a walk-in rainfall shower.

“Okay. I like this,” I mutter.

“Good.”

“What does your place look like in LA?” he asks.

I spin to face him, resting my back against the wall. “Like a gothic paradise.”

He arches an eyebrow. “Let me guess: gold-framed art, skeleton hands on the walls. Black paint everywhere?”

I bite back a grin. “Kinda. I did throw in a splash of emerald green for ambiance.”

He takes a step forward. “Candles?”

I nod.

“So… it sounds like you’re more likely to have a sex dungeon?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

I scoff. “Yes. It’s called the virgins of hell.”

He chuckles. “Has a ring to it. A very, very exclusive membership, right?”