Page 12 of Sweet Retribution

CHAPTER THREE

Fuck.

She’s going to be the death of me. I need to resist the temptation. Ihaveto resist the temptation. Gia’s still healing emotionally and physically from her abduction. I’m the first to admit I’m an asshole, but I can’t take advantage of her right now.

She’s been teetering between a nervous breakdown and another panic attack since the moment I found her. Shit, from the second she was kidnapped by Rossi. I’d be a dick to take her in this state.

“Touch me,” she purrs.

My dick hardens on her command.Fuck. I was hard as soon as I sat next to her and ate the meal she prepared. The meal she intended to make for me the day she was kidnapped. People don’t do nice things for me. They obey me because they fear me. They cook for me because I pay them to, because they’re afraid not to.

Gia has defied me since the day I took her. And I like her more for it.

Her fingers dig into my chest. I can’t help the way my heart races. I can control my face, my body, for the most part, but I can’t control my heart.

Fuck.Since when does my heart have anything to do with fucking a woman?

Since Gia.

I need to push her away. She only wants sex as a coping mechanism. I should know. I’m an expert at it. I’ve been using sex to cope for the past fifteen years. I don’t care about being her means to an end, but I don’t want her to regret giving herself to me only days after being tied down and almost raped by a monster.

It’s not healthy. Again, something I’m an expert on. I fixate on her amber eyes and search for any sign of regret, of fear. Of uncertainty. And hell if she doesn’t appear one hundred percent sure.

I can’t fuck her like this, but I can help her release some of her tension. I drop my hands to her hips and yank her into me. She gasps and I silently curse. The doctor had said her ribs weren’t broken, only slightly bruised.

I need to be gentle with her, but gentle isn’t in my vocabulary. I lower my hands to her ass and cup her cheeks, pulling her into me, grinding my cock into her, reminding her of what she’s asking for.

Instead of shock, she folds into me, pressing her tits into my chest. I let out a growl and clamp my hand around the back of her neck so she’s forced to look up at me. Not that I’m forcing her; she wants this.

I’m still not sold that she won’t regret it after. I tell myself to pull back, to pleasure her, then leave. She’s better off without me. I’m no good for her, and I don’t like the look of hero worship she’s given me since finding her tied to that bed.

If it wasn’t for me, she’d never have been in that situation.

“Stone,” she purrs, bringing my attention back to her.

We’re visible from the house and the security cameras. I reach for her wrist and am quickly reminded by her gasp and the brush of bandage that she’s still healing. Cursing myself, I grab her hand instead and pull her across the lawn and to the gym.

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