Page 24 of Coerced Wife

“What if it does? I have to be prepared. It would be stupid and irresponsible not to put measures in place.”

I stare into those lovely, whisky-colored eyes. Fuck. This is what she’s had on her mind? She’s a fierce protector, a lioness when it comes to her baby. It’s only natural that she thinks like that. It’s part of what I love so much about her. But fuck. I don’t want her to be scared for her life. And yet, she’s not wrong to worry. However, as I told her, that’s my job.

I weave my fingers through her hair, cupping her head, telling her gently, emphasizing each word to let my meaning sink in, “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

“Saverio.”

My name on her lips is beseeching, begging me to be honest with her.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

“I need to know,” she says, hesitating. “I need to knowthat my baby will be safe.” A warning slips into her tone. “I’ll do whatever it takes, Saverio. Don’t underestimate me.”

Resting our foreheads together, I say, “I’ll never be that foolish.”

She’s potent poison in a small bottle. I knew that from the moment I laid eyes on her. She singlehandedly took care of her mom. She fucking shot the guy who tried to stab her mother.

The thought of her dead or gone does things to me. It makes me violent. I dare someone to try and take her away. I’ll kill every motherfucker who’ll give it a shot, including Luigi. I’ll fight that war if that’s what it boils down to, but I’ll first diffuse it if I can.

The savage dread that spears through my chest pours into the kiss I press on her lips. My hands are on her everywhere at once, tearing at the buttons of her pajama top. The pants are next, the fabric shredded at my feet before she has time to gasp.

Goddamn. I wasn’t going to do this.

I snap my teeth together, summoning every ounce of willpower I possess to clench my hands at my sides and not reach for her again. “Tell me to stop,tesoro.”

Instead, she pushes my pajama bottoms over my hips. My cock juts out, ready and dripping precum for her.

I lock my fingers on her hips to keep a measure of distance between us while trying to come to my senses, but she leans against me, trapping my hard-on between our naked skin.

She makes an animal of me. I both love and hate it. I revel in the effect while abhorring my lack of control.

I spin her around and push her against the vanity. Our gazes lock in the reflection of the mirror, icy, crazed blue meeting honeyed, melting gold.

“Tell me no,” I bite out, pinning her between the vanity and my body, praying for control even as I feast my eyes on her naked tits and generous curves.

“Yes,” she says in a breathy voice.

I tighten my fingers on her flesh, kneading the softness between my hands with a force that will leave bruises. “What are you doing to me, woman?”

My question is the desperate cry of a man on the brink of losing his mind. His head. His life. All for a woman.

“What do you want to do to me?” she asks in a sultry tone.

I beg for fucking mercy. “Anya, please.”

“Yes,” she says again, rubbing her ass against my groin.

Fuck.

And I snap.

It only takes a second to get rid of my pajama bottoms. I step back and bring her with me. In the same movement, I push her lower body down and kick her feet apart.

My answer is the lustful call of an animal who wants to bite into her shoulder and rut her until she collapses beneath my weight. “I want your ass.”

“Then take it,” she says with a daring look over her shoulder.

I grind my molars until the crunch echoes in my skull. “It’s going to hurt.”

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