He won’t find it.
When I don’t flinch or look away, his gaze narrows. I expect it to harden as he comes to terms with what he has to do, but instead, it turns uncertain.
That can’t be right.
This is Rafaele Messero, a man whose dark reputation is a living, breathing companion that follows him everywhere he goes. I have a lot of questions swirling inside my head, but whether or not he’s capable of forcing himself onto me tonight isn’t one of them. That’s a given. We have to consummate this marriage, or his family won’t accept it. They’ll be happy to have an excuse to annul it.
He can’t take that risk. Not when his ability to inherit my father’s empire is on the line.
He pushes off me and stands at the foot of the bed. The fabric of his slacks brushes against my bare knees. Seconds tick by. My heart is a tribal drum inside my chest. He doesn’t move.
“What are you waiting for?”
Is he trying to draw it out? To let me sink deeper into my fear?
My fists clench.
Finally, he starts taking off his jacket.
A ball of dread solidifies inside my belly. Despite my best efforts, my thighs squeeze together and my lips begin to tremble. Adrenaline and fear pump through my veins.
I wait for him to climb on top of me, to take what he believes is owed to him.
I count my breaths, readying myself.
But seconds pass and nothing happens.
CHAPTER 11
RAFAELE
This is all wrong.
What’s even worse is that I can’t figure out how the fuck we ended up here. I rewind the past twenty-four hours, trying to decipher the mystery that is my wife.
What’s behind her fierce resistance? Is it fear? I didn’t think she was scared of me, but maybe I read her wrong. No matter how badly I want her, no matter how desperately I want to sink inside of her, it can’t be like this.
Never like this.
My stomach roils at the memories that come flooding back. The hardwood floor beneath my bare feet. Dim light coming from the bedside lamp. My mother’s muffled cries amidst my father’s groans. I push off the bed, suddenly feeling horribly exposed even though it’s Cleo lying bare beneath me.
I want her to be willing. An enthusiastic participant, not trembling prey.
She opens her eyes. “What are you waiting for?” No matter how she tries to hide it, I can hear the wobble in her voice.
Rape me.
A shiver goes through me. I don’t know my wife. But if she thinks I’d ever do that to her, she doesn’t know me either.
“No.”
She sucks in a surprised breath. “No?”
I chuck my suit jacket at her perfect naked body. “No, I’m not going to fuck you like this. Not when you’re lying there like a sacrificial lamb.”
Her mouth falls open. She jerks into a sitting position, clutching my jacket against her chest. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you needed me to make my rape more palatable for you!”
I anchor my hands on the upper part of the bed frame and stare at her. “For your information, I’ve never raped a woman, and I have no intention of starting tonight.”
I expect her to look relieved, but instead, her anger only burns brighter.
She really thought I’d do it.
Perhaps then it would be easier for her to hate me for the rest of our marriage, and to wallow in that hate. She’d rather hate me than let herself feel pleasure at my hands. To do so would be her admitting defeat.
I file that realization away. “Here’s what’s going to happen. I’ll give you a few days to adjust to your new life and come to your fucking senses. In those few days, I want you to meditate on how wet you got when I kissed you.”
She makes a sound of pure outrage and scrambles off the opposite side of the bed. “You’re delusional.”
“Don’t deny it. Trust me, it’ll feel even better when my tongue is deep inside your pussy instead of your mouth.”
Her lips part in shock.
She’s so fucking innocent beneath all that bravado. “When I finally fuck you, you won’t be trembling like a leaf. You’ll be begging me for it.”
Her lips waver for a moment before she presses them into a tight, determined line. “If you think I’ll ever beg you for anything, you need to get your head checked. I’m starting to see why you let Nero do all the talking. Clearly, the things you spew out of your mouth make no sense. I will never want you.”
“I’ll make you eat your words the way I did earlier.”
“Screw you,” she hisses, still holding my jacket against her chest.
“Trust me, you will, once you get over this ridiculous fear.”
“What fear? I’m not afraid of you. I’m disgusted by you. There’s a difference.”
I walk around the bed and corner her against one of the thick wooden bedposts. “Disgusted?”
Cleo tilts her head back, giving me perfect access to that lush, pink mouth. Her eyes drift to my lips. She swallows. “Yes.”
“You’re a horrible liar.”
Her eyes flash with defiance, her mouth ready to fire off another snappy retort, so I cut it off with a kiss. My tongue slips between her lips, and the taste of her sends me reeling. She’s still holding my jacket, using it as a barrier between us, but I can feel her every curve as I press my body against hers. Blood rushes to my dick.
I wrap my arm around her and let my hand rest just above the swell of her bare ass. Her fingers curl into my shirt, and she starts to return the kiss.
She’s sure as fuck not pushing me away now, is she?
I tug her closer, my erection growing against the zipper of my slacks. The kiss is messy, and our teeth clank. She has no technique to speak of, or maybe she’s purposefully trying to make me think she doesn’t know what she’s doing. If she thinks that will serve to repel me, she couldn’t be more wrong. I feast on her mouth and her taste, and the feel of her body against mine makes me groan.
She grows stiff for a second as she tugs on my bottom lip with her teeth.
And then she bites it. Hard.
Copper floods my mouth. Cleo sucks on the wound, the fucking lunatic, drawing out my blood. Before I can get my bearings, she pulls away, looking triumphant as my blood drips down her chin.
She turns and spits onto the bed. “There. Your fucking bloody sheets.”
Her eyes blaze.
My dick couldn’t be harder.
“You can show that to your creepy family tomorrow, all while knowing that it’s your blood they’re looking at instead of mine. Now, get out.”
I peer behind her, at the red stain, at the false evidence of the consummation of our marriage, and in that moment, I realize my mistake.
I own her, but I haven’t tamed her.
I haven’t even tried. I’ve been so absorbed with my raw desire for her, I didn’t stop to think about how today must have made her feel. It was a victory for me, but a loss for her.