Page 33 of Secret Baby for the Italian Mafia King

He ignores me, carries me along. I end up in his bed again. Vast and empty and cold. My back hits the mattress, and we are right back where we were. Except this time, Ren has the good sense to shut and lock the door behind him. We’re locked in together, just us.

“You know my worst mistake, Nadia, was letting you ruin me,” he says. His fingers undo the buttons on his shirt one at a time as he watches me, the neck of his shirt opening up. “But just like everything else between you and me, there’s no undoing it. There’s no cure for what you’ve done to me. Take off your dress.”

“I never did a damn thing to you,” I whisper.

He storms across the room, his hand fisting the front of my dress and hauling me up so his fingers can make quick work of the zipper at the back. He tears it down my body, leaves it crumpled around my waist with just my strapless bra left behind.

The dress is dragged down, over my hips, leaving me in nothing but my underwear. He throws it aside on the floor like it’s trash and slings himself over me again. Still in his pants and shoes, the top of his shirt hangs open, and along one shoulder I see the skin patterned and marbled with white. A map of scar tissue. I push the curtain of his open shirt aside, revealing the hint of an old burn running up his arm.

He shrugs off the shirt. A pattern of old webbed scars paints the skin from wrist to shoulder along the outer side of his arm. Time has faded them, drained out the color and left them hard and raised against the skin.

“Is that what you want to see? Your handiwork?”

I reach out, mute and horrified, as my fingers graze the brand of fire that kissed his flesh, tracing the raised tissue.

“I didn’t do this, Ren,” I whisper, so close to begging him to believe me. “I couldn’t.”

“Maybe you didn’t want it to happen, but you sure as hell didn’t stop it—”

“I didn’t know!”

He snatches my hand away and pins it down. “Don’t lie to me,” he snarls. “Not now.”

It doesn’t matter what I say. Ren is too angry, too sure of himself. He’s had six years to decide what the truth about that night is going to be, and I won’t be able to change that. Not in this moment.

“Your family left their mark on me, but I can hide those scars. I can numb the pain that the doctors say shouldn’t still be there. But you—the damage you did runs deep, andeverybodycan see it. They take one look at me and they just know somebody got the best of me. And that kind of pain, you can’t drown it out. Everything just makes it worse. See, you keep begging me to make this make sense, but I can’t do that for you, Nadia. It doesn’t make sense. What I feel for you is notsensible. I’ve waited six years to find you. And when I say I waited, I mean Iwaited—”

His hands roam over my breasts, unhooking my bra and letting my breasts spill free. His breathing shifts, the anger in him surging like a current.

“I never touched another woman after you. Couldn’t have anyone else. No one else was good enough. I waited for you. For this.”

The words try to slit my heart, to carve it in half and lay it out, bleeding.

He waited for six years?

“Bullshit,” I whisper. The Ren I knew wouldn’t wait. He was a playboy even before our worlds fell apart. When I first methim, he always had some girl around. They came and went like fashion trends, whoever looked better on his arm or in his bed that season, until we ended up together for those few sweet months and he promised me that that was all behind him. Like he probably promised everyone else. “Why would you? You didn’t even want me!”

Something thunders in his expression.

“I didn’t want you?” Ren whispers.“I didn’t want you, Nadia?”

Ren peels off the rest of his clothes, zippers and buttons undone. He only leaves on the one glove, where his burned skin snakes down to the leather at his wrist and is obscured from my sight. Just how much he does want me is obvious and on full display. His pierced stiff cock stands erect and glistening at the tip.

Ren hand cradles my cheek, draws me into kiss after biting kiss.

“God, you better pray I don’t show you how much I wanted you because it would tear you apart,” he threatens.

He slides between my legs again, just like he does in my dreams. My breath hitches, a pained sound escaping as it feels so right and so wrong at the same time. He drags us hip to hip; his cock nudges between my legs with a hard, threatening pressure again and again, toying with my expectations the way a cat toys with a mouse. I gasp, eyes rolling back as he teases me and threatens me all at once.

“I should have killed you. But all I wanted, from the moment I first started chasing you, was to have you back here.Right here—”

Ren punctuates the words by sinking a little deeper against my pussy, his new piercing dragging against me in a deliciously wicked way. I shudder as I remember how hard it was to take him, how gently he always worked me open for him. He’s right—he really could ruin me if he wanted. Ren shivers, expression washed in some silent emotion. Tension radiates off him.

“Oh God, you… You feel different—”

“Do you like it? I thought of you, when I was getting it done. I thought about you feeling it, tasting it. It’s all for you, Nadia.”

“You expect me to believe it? That you haven’t been with anyone else since me? That you got this piercing done and no one else hasn’t even seen it? Please. I’m not that stupid.”

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