Page 106 of Savage Don's Captive

And God help anyone who tries to take it away.

Chapter thirty-three

Dominic

“Rosaria’sgoingtokillyou.”

I stiffen at Alessa’s drowsy voice from the kitchen. With a slow exhale, I pop a few cashews into my mouth and crush the ember of my cigarillo into the glass dish.

“I’d like to see her try,” I answer, swatting at the smoke.

Alessa yawns, stretching her arms above her, and the fabric of my shirt she’s wearing follows, slipping up to reveal a hint of her thighs. Her nipples peek through the fabric as she walks deeper into the kitchen.

My mouth goes dry at the sight of her in my clothes, something primal coiling in my gut. Mine. Every inch of her, marked by mein ways no one else sees. The thought of her carrying my baby intensifies my need to claim her.

When she reaches the counter, she wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me, her soft moan making my cock jerk. My hands find her waist, fingers pressing hard enough to remind her exactly who she belongs to.

She pulls away and drops onto the stool next to mine, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Hi,” my lips twitch.

“Hi,” she answers, voice raspy with sleep.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Woke up and you weren’t there. Couldn’t sleep?”

“Too much on my mind.” I exhale, tossing a cashew into my mouth. My brain’s a warzone—threats, loose ends, contingency plans. All revolving around keeping her and our kid safe.

“Tell me.”

I hesitate. Instead, I get up and head for the pantry. I yank open the freezer, scanning Rosaria’s handwritten labels.

“Pistachio?”

“Chocolate chip.”

I grab theGocce di Cioccolatotub, toss it on the counter, and scoop ice cream into a bowl.

“You’re stalling,” she says.

I slide the bowl toward her. “I am.”

I take a seat and turn my stool to face her, leaning my elbow on the counter.

The kitchen light catches in her hair, turning the copper strands to liquid fire. Even exhausted, with dark circles beneath her eyes and her body still healing, she’s the most dangerous thing in the room.

“You can’t keep things from me—I’m literally growing your kid,” she says, taking a spoonful of ice cream. “And in nine months, I’ll be the one pushing this tiny human out and into the world. So, yeah, I think I deserve to know.”

“Oh... You’re playing that card?”

“Is it working?”

“It might be.”

“Then, yes, I’m playing that card.” She takes another bite, licking the spoon.

Her tongue wrapping around that spoon twists something hot in my gut.Cristo, I’ve fucked her six ways from Sunday tonight, and still, I want more.

---