Page 66 of Cruel Devil

But Bella’s too busy slapping her tongue over my face. “God, Savage, get it off!” I’m too scared to grab the dog and try to haul it off me in case those enthusiastic licks become flesh-rending chomps.

I saw Bella’s teeth.

Don’t Rottweilers have jaws as strong as sharks or alligators?

There’s the rattle of a collar, then Bella’s off me.

My husband’s wearing black sweatpants…and nothing else. Barefoot, bare chested, hair still tousled from sleep. The hand grabbing Bella’s collar full of veins and tattoos and strong enough that I’m wondering how I can piss him off so he’ll want to choke me.

He’s so fucking delicious, I’m the one salivating now.

It should be fucked up that I have sex on the brain, but if I’d been shitty at compartmentalizing, I’d never have made it past Mom’s death. So much shit has happened in my life that I quickly learned to lock it up and swallow the key.

There’s so many of them, I should jingle like a fucking tambourine when I walk.

I’ve been through worse than what happened last night.

But I’ve never been as powerless to stop it.

Savage guides the dog a few steps away from the bed, then releases her and snaps his fingers. She sits with her back to me, tail swishing furiously on the carpet, and darts a desperate little peek over her shoulder before Savage can correct her with another snap of his fingers.

“You behave,” he says. “Only reason I’m even allowing you inside is because Sergio isn’t here and Dad’s confined to his room.”

“You talking to me or your canine death machine?” I mutter, wiping dog spit off my face with Savage’s bedsheets.

“Both.” Savage points to the floor and snaps his fingers again. Bella drops to her tummy, then whines as she puts her head down on her paws. As soon as Savage walks past her, she inches her head around to follow him. He goes back to the door and fetches something off the coffee table in the lounge area of his room.

When I look down at the dog again, her big brown eyes are locked with mine. She’s contorted herself into a croissant so she can look at me without getting off her belly where her master told her to stay.

Bella might have been cute, if she was like half the size. I prefer befriending animals that can’t rip out my throat if I’m late with their chow.

I glare at Savage as he stops beside the bed with a tray.

“The fuck is this?” At this angle, I can’t see what’s on the tray. Could be food, could be torture implements.

He arches an eyebrow at my tone. “Your fucking breakfast.”

I make a face, and then drag my hands over my face, rubbing my eyes. “Need coffee.”

“Only if you promise not to go on a killing spree.”

I peek at him between my fingers. “I’m struggling to talk. Killing will have to wait until the caffeine has hit my brain.”

“Maybe I should get you some decaf.”

“I’ll scoop out your eyeballs with my bare hands, Papi.”

He scoffs, waiting for me to wriggle into position before setting the tray over my lap. My stomach grumbles in appreciation at the crispy bacon, the heap of scrambled eggs, the bagel smeared with cream cheese, and the small bowl of fruit.

But I grab the black coffee first, inhaling its rich scent like outdoorsy people would smell a rose. “Fuck, yeah.”

Savage climbs in beside me, and leans over to steal one of my blueberries. I’d be mad, if I was going to eat it.

He tosses it to Bella. The sound her fucking mouth makes when she snaps down on that tiny morsel will stay with me for the rest of my life.

When he aims for a strip of bacon, I bat him away with a feral growl.

“Sacrifice your own breakfast to the beast.”

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