Page 26 of De Luca: The Saint

Brushing the hair off my neck, he leans forward, placing soft kisses on my skin. He whispers, “You’re mine, Angel. Mine to fuck. Mine to care for. Mine to love. And fuck me, I never wanted this, but I do love you.”

He has his arms wrapped around my waist, pulling my back against his chest.

I run my fingers along his arms gently. I don’t respond because I’m not ready. Feeling it and saying it are two very different things. The biggest lesson I learned from my parents is giving yourself to someone completely is dangerous. That kind of power only invites pain, something I’m not prepared for.

Damian is even more of a danger than your average man. He asked if I trusted him, and I do, with my body. My heart is a different story. It’s never been broken by a man. I know if he breaks my heart, it’s going to be bad. I’m not sure I’ll survive it.

“I won’t hurt you, Angel.”

Shit. Did I say that out loud? Or is he a mind reader? It wouldn’t surprise me since his talents seem endless.

“What?”

“I won’t hurt you. I will always put your needs first.”

“Damian, it’s not that simple for me.”

He lifts me like a rag doll and turns me around so I’m straddling his lap, “Tell me why.”

I sigh loudly, “My mother fell hopelessly in love with my father. There’s nothing she wouldn’t have done for him. He used that to his advantage. My father controls her every move. He’s financially abusive, she has no access to money without permission from him. His love is vile. It wasn’t always that way, but it has been since I was a girl. I promised myself a long time ago not to ever risk that. I can’t give more than I already have.”

He pours body wash into his palm silently, rubs his palms together, and washes my arms, neck, then my breasts before moving to my stomach and legs.

I moan when he washes between my legs, but he doesn’t pursue anything.

He’s quiet for a long time. Maybe I shouldn’t have said why I was holding back.

“I’m not him, Angel. I will always treat you with respect. Please don’t punish me for another man's actions.”

He doesn’t say another word about it. He finishes washing me, lifts me out of the tub, and dries me off, “Go get ready for bed, baby. I’ll be there in a minute.”

I do as he says and am surprised when he comes out of the bathroom dressed. Damian looks like a walking orgasm in black dress pants, and a black button-down dress shirt, exposing his forearms. The top three buttons of his shirt are left undone, giving a glimpse of more ink. He’s not coming to bed with me. I’m even more confused by the pang in my chest at this realization. Why do I feel sad?

“Don’t look at me like that. I have work to do tonight. It has nothing to do with our conversation. I will never punish you with silent treatment.”

Damian leans down and kisses me softly before pulling away, “You don’t have to say the words, Angel. Punish me forever by not letting me hear them. But,” he presses his palm to the skin covering my heart, “not saying the words doesn’t change what we both know is in here.”

As he steps away from the bed, I sit up, “What are you doing?”

He smirks at me, “I can’t tell you that.”

I swallow hard, “Is it dangerous?”

I’m not sure why I asked because I already know two things. First, he’s not going to tell me. And second, I already know it is.

With a wink, he says, “It always is, Angel. Trust me when I say, I’m far more lethal than they are. You don’t have a thing to worry about, but I have no idea when I’ll be back. You have everything you need in the meantime. My home is your home. Everything is at your disposal including my drivers and security. I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

I look down at my shaking hands, “I suppose there’s no point in asking you not to go?”

Damian walks back over to me, presses his hand to my throat, “Keep telling yourself you feel nothing for me, Kitty Kat. We both know the truth.” Then he leans down and kisses the breath out of me. He slides his tongue around mine, tilts his head to the side, squeezing slightly on my throat.

I whimper into his mouth, causing him to groan.

He pulls away, licking his lips, he grins, “Bye Angel. Be a good girl.”

I touch my swollen lips as I watch him walk away. Closing my eyes briefly, I pray for his safety. Am I as terrible as Damian? Here I am praying for his safety but not the other guy, whoever he is. Does he have a family? What could he possibly have done to require a death sentence? Somehow, I know that Damian is ending at least one life tonight. It doesn’t sit well with me at all.

I tap my fingers on my thigh as the anxiety climbs to new heights. Blowing a long breath out, I tell myself, ‘He’ll be fine.’

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