Page 68 of Dragonfly

“You know, if I still had my gun, I wouldn’t need this,” I point out.

“Don’t worry, wife. That’s next.”

I do a double-take as I stand again. “What? You’re going to give it back?”

“Eventually. Once I’m sure you know how to use it. We have a shooting range for new soldiers. I want to set you up with Bianca.”

My stomach twists. “Bianca? Who’s Bianca?”

Damien never mentions other women. The only exceptions are Genevieve and Dr. Liz, but almost as if we’ve come to a silent agreement never to mention previous lovers, he makes it a point not to.

Am I jealous? Fuck. I don’t know… I think I might be.

And he knows it.

“Bianca is a talented marksman at the range. One of the best. But the best is a handsome young man named Chad. I refuse to introduce you to Chad, cara mia. My dear. My Savannah. So you will work with Bianca to teach you to shoot. I will teach you how to go hand-to-hand with anyone who might try to harm you. And, one day when I’m sure you won’t use it against me, I’ll teach you to wield my knife.”

He’s serious, too. Like, really serious.

And I thought he must’ve lost his mind before.

“You really are trying to teach me to hurt you.”

“Not just me, Savannah. Anyone.”

“I don’t understand?—”

He places his finger beneath my chin, tilting my head back so that I’m forced to see the emotion lurking in the depths of his icy blue eyes. “Ricky could’ve really hurt you. Vin could’ve hurt you. Fuck, but I can hurt you. I won’t allow it, ragna mia. You’re mine, and I will keep you. That means you must know how to protect yourself if I can’t. So I will teach you how to really kill, and so long as it keeps you alive, I don’t give a shit who you turn on.”

I swallow roughly. “Even you, Damien?”

His gaze drops to my lips. “You’re my wife, Savannah. ‘Til death do we part.”

I’ve lost my mind. I left it behind at Madison Correctional Facility five years ago, but when I have Damien Libellula inches away from me, his breath whispering over my face as his lethal yet beautiful body is right fucking there, hurting him is the last thing on my mind.

Oh, no. Instead, grasping his muscle tank, closing the gap between us only because he allows it, I go up on my tip-toes and press my mouth to his.

For the first time since I’ve known him, I kiss him.

Damien is the first to pull back, moving so quickly that he rips the fabric of his tank of my grasp. His eyes flash beneath the fluorescents that light the gym as he backs out of my reach next.

And then, with a taunting expression twisting his gorgeous face, he beckons me again. “Again, Savannah.”

Fine.

I don’t know if he let me overpower him or if Damien decided he wanted to spar a little before he knocked me down for the seventh time. Something changed after I initiated that kiss, though, and after we wrestle for a few frantic moments, it ends with Damien on his back for once.

At least, I thought that was the end. But my husband? He has an entirely different idea.

Pressing his hand to the small of my back, he keeps our groins connected. Through our shorts, his cock is a length of steel pushing against my pussy. In this position, it wouldn’t take much effort at all for me to start riding him if we were naked?—

—and I’m pretty sure Damien is thinking along the same lines as me, he

His stiletto appears in his hand as if by magic. How? I have no idea. He’s definitely not wearing his holster, but I recognize the knife.

I gasp, the sound turning into a throaty moan as he drops the blade alongside my thigh before slipping it beneath my shorts. One hand gripping the material, the other working the knife, and it doesn’t take more than a few forceful jerks on one side, then the next before he’s cut my shorts off. Pulling them out from under my ass, he flings them to the side.

“Damien—”

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