Page 67 of Deadly Wrath

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Liv

Alessio carries me into the locker room, and I melt into his bare, inked muscles. That was the biggest workout of my life. The place is a horror movies version of clean, white tile everywhere, the kind of sterile that makes me think of hospitals and crime scenes. I can smell disinfectant, like it’s trying to mask the smell of sweat and bad decisions.

Rows of lockers streak past as he turns a corner, and one giant, wide-open shower space. No curtains, no privacy, just a lineup of showerheads like a prison block setup, at least what I’ve seen on TV. My arms cling around his neck with my face half-buried against his throat because if someone decides now is the time to hit the gym for a bit of cardio or take a post-workout rinse, I mightactually combust on the spot.

“So, are you planning on putting me down anytime soon?” I ask, trying to sound casual, even if mortification is creeping up my spine. “I must be getting heavy.”

His chest vibrates against me, a deep rumble that’s somewhere between a laugh and a groan. I feel it more than I hear it. “Not a chance. You don’t want to walk barefoot on these floors.”

I shift, squirming against him, and yep, that’s definitely his thunder-log pressing into my ass. My stomach clenches, heat pooling low, and suddenly Ireallyneed him to put me down before my slippery thighs rat me out. But instead of mercy, his grip tightens, and his palm gives my ass a solid squeeze. “You’re not heavy at all.”

Alessio full-on manhandles me into the shower. One hand is under my thighs, the other gripping my ass like it’s his personal stress ball. I’m clinging to his shoulders, still squirming, but he doesn’t even flinch.

The second the water blasts us, the icy blast and the freezing tile against my back knock the breath right out of me. My body jerks from the shock, and my legs tighten around his waist. Then Alessio slides inside me, stretching me to the edge of sanity. The steam curls up, fogging up the air around us, swallowing every sound except for the slap of skin on skin and the water hitting tile. Every nerve in my body locks onto the slow drag ofhis cock, each thrust making me cling harder to him, boneless and wrecked. He’s much gentler now, not like he was when he pounded me into the mat. This is slower and deeper, which my sore pussy happily thanks him for.

Who knew the men’s locker room would be such a damn thrill? I didn’t even realize getting railed against a questionable tile wall was on my bucket list, but here we are, checking this off in permanent marker.

By the time he’s done with me, I’m a useless puddle against his chest; my body is buzzing, but my limbs feel like jelly. His hands glide over my skin so slowly, washing every inch of my body, paying close attention to the area between my legs. He’s so delicate and tender right now, not like the big, bad wolf he usually is.

Next thing I know, I’m slumped in Alessio’s car, wearing nothing but a T-shirt that reads, ‘Property of Big Tony’s Gym.’ I’m pretty sure he stole it from behind the counter, but after everything we just did, a minor theft is the least of my sins. Desperation for clothes outweighed my morals ten orgasms ago.

I tug at the hem, praying it will cover more than it does, hoping to somehow salvage my dignity, but we both know that’s a lost cause. Alessio’s cruising like we’re on a Sunday drive, completely unbothered that my wardrobe is now in the gym trash. He’s in nothing but gray sweatpants, thanks to our, uh, vigorous sparringsession. If I weren’t still recovering, I’d climb onto his lap right now. At least I have one hell of a view on the drive home. I shoot him a sideways glance, but he’s focused on the road with a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. I roll my eyes, trying to hide a smile of my own.

“Could you at least pretend this isn’t a normal situation?” I ask, trying to keep my tone light, but the flutter in my stomach gives me away.

He turns to me, his gaze sharp and teasing. “And miss out on watching you squirm? Not a chance.”

I groan, sinking deeper into the seat. “Do you always shred a girl’s wardrobe as a finishing touch?” I ask, using air quotes before pulling the shirt down for the umpteenth time, but it barely helps.

He glances at me again, a smug grin stretching over his face. His hand lands on my thigh, and my heart does that annoying flip thing again.

“Good thing it’s my gym,Sirena.” He squeezes my leg, sliding his hand further between my thighs, using them like his own personal handwarmer. “A few of my men use it from time to time, but I made sure it was cleared and locked, so I wouldn’t have to stop fucking you to kill any bastard who saw you naked.”

My cheeks burn as a rush of heat coils low in my belly. “You really know how to make a girl feel special,” I quip, ignoring how his touch has me practically purring. “Also, who the hell is Big Tony?”

“Just looking out for you, spitfire,” he says, playfully with his hand still on me. His pinky brushes dangerously close to a spot that begs for his attention, and I shift in my seat, suddenly hyper-aware of how exposed I am. “Tony is the original owner. I never bothered changing the name after I bought it.”

I blink and squeeze my thighs together. “Wait… you planned this?” I ask, trying to wrap my head around his casual mention of murder over my nakedness. The thought of it sends a shiver down my spine, but I ignore that and focus on the fact that his little finger has me almost in a puddle on his leather seats.

“Of course I did. Like you could keep your hands off me,” he says, shrugging as if organizing an empty gym for our little sexcapade is just part of his everyday routine.

“You’re seriously messed up, you know that?” I retort, but even as the words leave my mouth, I realize it’s a lie. My body is betraying me, practically begging for more. It takes everything in me not to spread my legs and perch them on the dash, giving him full access to the needy bitch between my legs.

“Maybe,” he replies, calmly, but that calmness makes my stomach flutter in ways I can’t quite explain. “But you wouldn’t have it any other way.”

I want to argue, to remind him how crazy this is, but the heat radiating from his hand makes it impossible to think straight. I can only focus on how much I want him, even though I’m still sore from our earlier gym session, and how hard I’m trying not to soak his leather seats. Damn those piercings and that monster cock of his.

We aren’t far from the house, I sink deeper into my post-fuck haze, my mind blissfully blank, until reality hits me and my heart starts racing.

I’m about to do a real-life walk of shame.

“I can’t walk across your entire driveway like this,” I protest, eyeing the long stretch ahead. “Ultimate walk of shame.” It’s not just any driveway, there’s always men and guards out front, circling his fortress.

He shoots me an unbothered look. “That ring says nobody here, or anywhere else, for that matter, gets to have an opinion on anything you do, except me.” He brushes his fingers against the ring he slipped on my finger the second we got into the car. A ring that means something I’m not entirely on board with. When his hand touches mine, I jump a little.

Damn, this ring makes me jumpy, and the whole forced-nuptials situation has me on edge.

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