Page 19 of Taming a Ruthless Heart

I clench my jaw, step inside the bathroom, and kick the door closed behind me.The pale marble beneath my feet radiates coolness, soothing the heat of my skin.I cross the room, ignoring the massive sunken tub and heading to the walled shower tucked into the far corner.My mind buzzes.The past oppresses me.I turn the water on, choosing the iciest setting I can tolerate.

The room fills with the sharp sound of water against stone as the jets spring to life.I step under the stream and the chill nips at my flesh, but it’s nothing compared to the fire raging beneath my skin.The tension in my shoulders eases for a moment as the water runs in rivulets down my body.

Yet my pulse hammers, thick and demanding.I need something to keep me from returning to that bed and making matters worse.With one hand braced against the marble wall, I wrap the other around my cock and begin to stroke the length of it.Water drenches my hair, but it can’t wash away the past.

I don’t need to close my eyes to picture Alexia kneeling in front of me in my old playroom, her breasts bouncing with her eager movements.The memory is so vivid I can hear the faint tinkle of the gold chains that connect the butterfly nipple clamps she was wearing.

She parted her lips, gazing up at me with expectant eyes, as if I were the only person in her world.As if she would wait forever to please me.

“Tell me what you want, pet.”

She bit the inside of her cheek to hide a smirk.God, she was a natural—born for our role-playing, born to thrive under my control.I lived to satisfy her.

“I want your cock, Sir.Please,” she whispered.

I growl under the shower, my grip tightening as I pump faster.My mind drifts back to the past, to Alexia, so fucking eager, so fucking perfect.

“Hands behind your back,” I’d commanded, and she obeyed.

“Open for me.”

I slid past those silken lips, her hot mouth around me making my pulse race.I tangled my fingers in her hair, keeping her in place as I thrust my hips.I went deep down her throat while she moaned.

My breathing comes faster, ragged.I relive every moment of her submission.The way her eyes fluttered closed in ecstasy as she tasted me.She was mine then, and I was hers.

My hips jerk.My thoughts swirl.My heart rate spikes.Alexia screaming my name tonight still rings in my ears.

A guttural sound rips from my throat as pleasure crashes over me.My cock pulses as I come hard, my hot jets mixing with the water.My body shakes as I lean against the wall, panting.As the last remnants of my orgasm fade, a hollow emptiness settles in its place.

What the fuck am I doing?

That’s my life in a nutshell right now—fantasy entwined with reality, resulting in a wasteful load swirling down the drain.

I slam the water off with a sharp turn of the handle.My chest heaves.I’m losing my grip on things.I wipe a hand down my face, slicking back my wet hair.I towel myself off, moving with precision as I step out of the stall.

Returning to the bedroom, I glance at Alexia.Her face is peaceful.She’s wrapped up in the warmth of my sheets.I could join her, wrap my arms around her, let her warmth chase away the darkness.

But I shouldn’t.

There’s too much at stake.Alexia is a temptation I can’t afford.

I tug on a pair of sweatpants and head out of the room.One of the six empty guest rooms will have to do.

Staring in the mirror, I straighten the charcoal tie that perfectly complements the black bespoke Italian suit and crisp white buttoned-down I’ve chosen.I leave the bedroom, and the stillness of the house strikes me.

I stop at the bottom of the stairs; the soft clatter of pans reaches my ears and I smile.Fran is always the first to rise.The smell of coffee drifts through the air, rich and bitter, curling around me, inviting me in.

The kitchen is bathed in the soft early morning sun filtering through the large windows.It’s a welcoming space—crisp white cabinetry, polished marble countertops, and gleaming stainless-steel appliances.Everything’s as neat and organized as Fran.

She stands at the stove, her gray hair tied back in a bun, as she flips something in a pan.The scent of sizzling bacon fills the air, a familiar comfort in this unfamiliar house.She doesn’t look up as I enter, but she senses me.

“Mornin’, Mr.Dave,” she says, her voice warm.

“Morning.”I pour myself a cup of coffee, the dark liquid steaming as it hits the mug.I take a sip.“How long have you been up?”

Fran chuckles.“Long enough to get breakfast going.Thought I’d make a full spread for you, Miss Alexia, and little Rose.”

The mention of Alexia sends a rush of unwanted heat through me.I take another sip of coffee to drown it out, leaning against the counter.

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