Page 170 of Dance of Deception

“Tell me!” he roars. “Tell me who the fuck you’re collecting information for!”

I don’t answer.

His fingers tighten around my waist, yanking me against him. I gasp, my body arching involuntarily, my hands gripping his arms as his dominance rolls over me like a goddamn electrical storm.

Suddenly, he’s spinning me around and the breath is knocked out of me as he slams me against the bookshelves.

He grabs a hank of my hair in his fist. His knee jams between my thighs, shoving them apart, as if he’s about to fuck the truth out of me.

The whole room goes dim and faraway.

I want this.

I don’t.

I wanthim.

I don’t.

I crave him.

I’m fuckingterrifiedof him.

The air crackles, my skin throbbing and prickling as he grabs the back of my leggings and prepares to shove them down. I can’t think. Can’t speak.

Can’t breathe.

And suddenly, as everything comes to a frenzied crescendo…

I stop fighting.

I don’t thrash. I don’t scream. I don’t move at all. I just go completely still and limp against the bookshelves.

Carmine’s breath rasps against my ear, his body wound tight, ready for me to resist.

But I don’t.

I just... give up.

Give in.

Stop fighting.

His chest heaves against my back. His grip tightens for half a second, waiting.

But I just stay still, and silent.

Suddenly, his hands loosen and then drop away. The very air in the room stops moving. The tension doesn’t snap. It dissolves into something cold. Something wrecked and ruined.

His face is stricken, unreadable, as I turn to face him. Just a hard look in his eyes and a grimness in his jaw.

A little while ago, I wondered about the two of us coming up with a safe word—something to let reality back in if we were ever playing too rough and things got too much for me. But then, I realized this man I’ve married was so deep inside of me—so entwined and ensnared with what makes meme, that we wouldn’t even need a word. He can already read my thoughts and every nuance of me, after all.

Maybe that was naïve. But I never brought it up, which means there is no safe word between us.

Except, now I realize there is. It’s just not a word at all.

It’s silence.

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