Page 72 of Savage Don's Captive

God, we’re flirting now? This is so messed up.

He tilts his head slightly, almost like he’s pitying me.“Be grateful... I keep you safe, piccola.”

I force a laugh, a cold, hollow sound.“You’re sick.”

He shrugs, like it’s nothing.“It’s for your own good.”

His voice shifts, lighter, as if trying to throw me off balance.“You clean up nice.”

I snap out of my daze, blinking at him, realizing I’ve been staring like an idiot.

Say something. Anything. Stop being weird.

“You don’t look bad yourself,” I manage to say, turning away quickly before he notices the warmth creeping into my cheeks.

I head back to the closet, grabbing the pearl earrings I wore before—no way I’m digging through the ridiculous collection he provided. The last thing I need is him watching me try to pick out jewelry like a puppet on strings.

“People are going to see all this the wrong way, you know.” I step out of the closet, fastening my earrings, a pearl necklace in one hand, a matching green handbag in the other, which I drop by the door.

“Wrong how?” he asks, watching me check myself in the mirror. I hear him approach, and every nerve ending goes on high alert. “They’ll think you’re my lover, but you’re just the woman I dragged into this.”

I smirk at my reflection, knowing he can see me. Lifting the pearl necklace, I try to clasp it around my neck, but the stupid thing keeps slipping.

Dominic’s hands slide over mine from behind, taking the necklace. I freeze, every muscle tensing as he fastens it with practiced ease. His fingers brush my skin, and I hate how my body responds to even that tiny contact.

“There,” he says quietly. His eyes meet mine in the mirror, dark and hungry. “Perfect.”

He leans closer, his hands resting on my shoulders before sliding down my arms. My pulse kicks into overdrive, and heat pools low in my belly. Without warning, his lips press against the curve where my neck meets my shoulder.

Once. Twice. Three times.

My eyes close, and I tilt my head automatically. It’s scary how fast my body surrenders to him, how quickly my worries dissolve when he touches me.

For a moment, I pretend none of this is real. I’m not a captive. He’s not a killer. We’re just two people who met by chance and couldn’t keep our hands off each other. We’re back at that gala where everything was simpler, before I knew who he really was, what he was capable of.

Then I catch our reflection—me melting for the guy who’s literally holding me prisoner—and reality crashes back. What am I doing? I’ve spent years exposing men like him in my articles, and now I’m putty in his hands. I try to pull away, but his grip tightens.

“You look fucking beautiful,” he growls against my skin, his hands wandering to my waist, then hips. Before I can process what’s happening, he’s gathering my skirt in his fists.

I should fight it. I should pull away and remind myself of the person I used to be—the woman who wouldn’t fall for this. But my body is numb, held hostage by a need I can’t shake. My mind has completely checked out. All I can feel is the weight of him pressing in, the heat of his touch that drags me under. This isn’t me. This can’t be happening.

His hand slides between my legs, and I jerk in surprise. His other arm locks around my waist, holding me in place. There’ssomething both hot and scary about how easily he controls me, how he takes what he wants.

“Dominic,” I breathe, my body going slack. I’d die before admitting it, but right now his touch feels like the only thing keeping me sane.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispers, his breath hot against my ear.

Say something. Push him away, Alessa. Have some self-respect,my brain screams, but the words never come.

When I stay silent, he slips my underwear aside, finding the hood of my clit. A sharp gasp escapes me, my body jolting with an electricity that runs through every inch of my skin. He rubs me like he already knows exactly what I need—and in an instant, I’m completely at his mercy.

“Open your eyes,” he commands, his voice low and gravelly, like a warning I’m too eager to ignore.

I obey, and the sight in the mirror takes my breath away—my skirt hiked up, his hand between my legs, both of us gasping for air. I can’t tear my eyes away.

“Look at me.”

I meet his gaze, my breath catching as his eyes lock onto mine with an intensity that has me completely frozen. He’s holding me captive in a way no lock could.

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