Page 109 of Hate Mates

“And how does a wife earn the respect of a husband that sees her as nothing more than a contractual obligation?”

Vincenzo is silent for a moment, the corner of his mouth twitching ever so slightly. His stare is penetrating, calculating and yet…curiously intrigued.

I hate the way it affects me, the way he studies me, how having his eyes on me burns a path from my skin to the deepest recesses of my soul—a place where all my filthy fantasies about him reside in secret.

A place where I crave him.

A place where I love him in silence.

I tell myself it’s foolish, that wanting him makes me weak. That his hatred should snuff out any lingering affection, any remnant of the girl who once believed in love. But when he steps closer, when his earthy scent wraps around me, I feel something dangerous coil inside me.

Something wild. Something…unpredictable.

He grabs my wrist, twists me around, and pulls my back against his chest, my breath bursting out in a startled gasp. Hisgrip is unyielding, his body an immovable fortress I’m pinned against, and every nerve in my body lights up as his lips brush against the shell of my ear.

“Is it true?”

I lick my lips, my heart racing impossibly fast. “Is what true?”

His hands fall to my waist. “That you’ve never been fucked before.”

I don’t answer. I can’t. Not while I’m fighting to keep my breath steady and my body still.

“I was told my wife’s cunt will be intact…for me to break.” His fingers bite into my hip. “Is it true, Ottavia? Did I marry a virgin?” His voice is velvet and steel, curling into my core.

“Yes,” I murmur, unable to stop myself from trembling.

“You’re nervous,” he rasps, pulling me close, his hard cock pressing into my lower back. “Afraid?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

Heat radiates from his body. His presence looms, curling around me like invisible bindings. I shouldn’t want this. I shouldn’t want him. But my breath comes faster, my pulse unsteady, and all I can think about is what it would feel like to have his mouth on mine, his weight pressing me into the bed.

My nipples pebble against the lace of my dress, my thighs clenching involuntarily as heat pools low in my belly. I should recoil. I should shove him away, remind him that I’m more than a body for his cruelty.

But when his fingers brush against the side of my breast, teasing the curve, a strangled gasp escapes my lips.

He hears it. He feels it.

“You like this, don’t you? My touch. Feeling how hard my cock is right now.” Suddenly, he whips me around, grips my chin and tilts my head back so I’m forced to look at him. “Evenknowing that I fought endlessly against being forced to take you as my wife, you still want my hands on you.”

Shame burns hot. He’s right. My body betrays me with every touch, every filthy word that drips from his lips like poison I can’t resist.

Vincenzo moves, spinning me around so my back presses against the wall, his hands caging me in on either side of my head. His knee presses between my legs, parting them just enough to make my breath stutter.

“Say it,” he demands. “Say you want me. Say you want my cock to break you in. To wreck your intact pussy so you can feel what it’s like to be stretched and so full of me you won’t know where you end and I begin.”

I hate him. I love him. I want him.

But I say nothing, my lips pressed together in stubborn defiance.

His smirk is wicked. “Fine. If you won’t say it, I’ll make you beg.”

He moves swiftly, gripping my wrists and pinning them above my head. My breath falters as he leans in, his mouth a hair’s breadth from mine, teasing me, taunting me with a closeness that burns hotter than I can bear.

“According to our families, the priest, and God, you’re my wife now, which means I get to fuck you whenever I want, however I want.” His lips brush lightly over mine. “And the best part is, you don’t get to say…no.”

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