Page 88 of When She Unravels
“Fed me like a wild animal.”
A smile pulls at my lips. “My little beast.”
“Left me alone until I was so bored out of my mind I started anger-fucking myself to fantasies of you.”
“I’m really never going to get that out of my head,” I mutter as I change my angle.
Her eyes roll back. “I hate you so much,” she pants. “Why did you do all those things to me?”
“Is that really why you hate me?” I move my hand between her thighs and find her clit.
She makes a tortured noise and blinks her eyes open at me. “No.”
My movements become more frantic. I bite at the place where her neck and shoulder connect. “Then why?”
She squeezes me so hard I’m sure I’m about to pass out. She’s so fucking close, I can feel it. I won’t let myself fall over the edge until she’s spent herself all over my cock.
Her heels dig into the backs of my thighs, and she lets out a gasp. “Because I still want you, and I hate it. I hate it so much.”
My chest feels like it’s just fractured. But then I feel her start to come, and I let go of my control. My seed spills inside of her, and I’m fucking levitating.
In that post-orgasm moment of clarity, I realize a very inconvenient thing.
I’ve claimed her as mine.
And I’m never letting her go.
CHAPTER26
VALENTINA
I knowI’ve done a very bad thing. I’ve allowed myself to become confused. The Damiano I want is a man that doesn’t exist. He’s not the smart businessman who seduced me with his dirty words and clever wit.
I reach over and turn off the water. As the last drops fall, it’s as if reality has restarted itself once again.
The mafioso standing in front of me runs a thick towel over my skin. He does it gently, as if he’s afraid I might shatter from too much pressure. He had no qualms about my breakability when he was thrusting into me moments earlier, but maybe his own reality is setting in as well.
His dark eyes meet mine, and I know I’m right. This was a goodbye. He’s going to send me home, and he knows I’ll never forgive him for it. This is all over.
It’s a bitter, painful end to something that was never destined to be a love story.
I dry the soles of my feet on the rug by the shower and walk into the bedroom with him right on my heels. When I climb onto the bed, he follows. Hasn’t he had enough? I don’t think I could have another orgasm. He’s wrung every bit of pleasure out of me, and now I feel empty. I don’t have anything left to give.
When I lie down on my side, he wraps his palm around my shoulder and turns me to my back. He’s propped up on his elbow, peering down at me with furrowed brows.
Here it is. He’s about to tell me I’m going back to New York.
“I’m sorry.”
I shut my eyes. Why should I look at him while he breaks my heart for the second time?
“I shouldn’t have hurt you like I did.” His lips brush lightly against my wrists. “Every time I see these marks on you, I want to throw myself off a cliff.”
An ache appears in the back of my throat. He’s about to hurt me way worse than that.
He leaves my wrists alone and brushes a rough thumb over my lips. Then he sighs. “What would you do if I let you go?”
It takes a moment for me to process his words. When I do, a weird feeling fills my chest. It reminds me of when I opened the cage of a bird I kept as a child and watched it fly away.
