Page 28 of Risky Vows

"You have that amount of time to ask me what you want to know," he says.

I realize I still have my hand on his cock. I disengage and scoot to the edge of the sofa so I can gather my thoughts. My palm is hot from the contact.Get it together, Amara."My mom called me. She said you stopped by and killed Ugo. Is that true?"

"Yes," he says, looking me square in the eye.

A cold sensation spills into my stomach. Even though I already knew it, hearing him confess reminds me of what kind of man he is and what kind of woman I'm becoming. "Why did you do it?"

"You're letting me pop your ass cherry in exchange for these questions?" He shrugs. "I did it because he messed with what's mine. He hurt you, and I don't care how long ago was it. He deserved to die."

I clear my throat. My heart slams against my ribcage, the excitement from hearing Massimo's validation running through my veins. "He did."

"The world is a better place without him in it."

I can't argue with him. Ugo had no family, and if he had any friends, they weren't good people. I chew on my bottom lip. "How did you kill him?"

"Finally, an interesting question." He picks up a strand of my hair and tucks it behind my ear. "I went alone. I could have had Tom or any of my men accompany me, but I wanted to be one hundred percent responsible for his death."

A dark type of excitement expands in my chest. My nipples harden, the area behind my breasts stirring. Who knew revenge was such a delicious aphrodisiac? Maybe it's the idea that Massimo did it for me—that he had my back. If he continues to talk, he'll literally have it. "Tell me more."

"I could tell in his eyes he wanted to leave. He knew he couldn't kill me. The repercussions of my dying meant he'd die instantly. A slow death. But he desperately wanted to neutralize me and leave. Run."

The image of a desperate Ugo, knowing there was no escape, sends a wave of relief through me. I appreciate him having some time to realize what caused his death before he met it. For so many nights, I had to sleep with the image of his face haunting my nightmares, only to wake up and find my aggressor still working for my parents, coming and going in my house as he pleased. "But he didn't."

"No. He launched at me. I swiped him with a knife. We rolled on the floor. He punched me, which was unfortunate, so I stuck the knife inside him and twisted, and he started bleeding out."

"And that was it?"

He shakes his head. "I cut off his thumb."

Unhinged. Enjoyment and fear blend inside me. I make a note to never get on my husband's bad side. The threat of him finding out about my brother lingers, but I push my worries away. I suffered because of Ugo. He killed James. "Did you stuff it in his mouth?"

"No. I almost did. Then I thought you should see it for yourself." He stands and moves around the couch to the console table by the entrance, where we usually leave car keys. He takes out a small Ziploc bag and hands it to me.

My eyes widen. It's a severed thumb with dried blood sticking to it. I can tell it happened several hours ago because the digit is stiff, the color ashy. Lifeless. "Wow."

I look at him, and he stares at me, watching me study the Ziploc bag.

"This is insane," I say, then place it on the coffee table. "You killed someone for me. I don't know how to thank you."Words I never thought I'd say to a person.

"Oh, we'll figure it out," he says. "Take off your robe."

I surge to my feet for better effect and stand before him. I undo the tie in the middle and let it slowly fall down my arms until it pools at my feet. He looks at me, fascinated.

He takes a step back, and I inhale. The corset is flattering, but it's hard to breathe. When I exhale, my heart beats so fast it's like the outfit has shrunk two sizes in the last few seconds. He touches me, outlining the shape of the corset, his fingers perusing each curve.

His breathing is hard, too. Good.

He bends me over the couch and parts my legs with his. He embraces me from behind, a crazy hot sexual energy binding us close. "Fuck, rat. You're the goddamn sexiest woman I've ever seen."

I don't know if I believe his words, but a part of me wants to. No one has ever looked at me the way he is now. He lowers his hand, sneaking it into the underwear and into my pussy. We both moan. I'm so wet that as he fingers me, we can hear the squishy sound from my cream, my skin, welcoming him.

"Fuck," he says under his breath.

"Massimo, I'm so wet," I say, half-awkwardly for being so soaked.

"That's how I like you," he says, placing his hand on my back and coaxing me to drape over the couch. He curls his hands around both ends of my undies and pulls, ripping and tossing them aside. My ass is fully exposed, but I assume he'll stick to his word and wait for whatever he ordered online.

Massimo kneels behind me and parts my thighs. I'm so aroused, I feel drunk. Lightheaded. Weak. I moan, the sound long-winded and unashamed.

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