Page 71 of Deception

My body is melting into him while my mind is spinning. A myriad of thoughts scrambles my senses until he turns me to face him, watching as my dress slowly falls down my body, revealing my naked form. Exactly like he instructed, the only other things I’m wearing are the blue garter, my jewelled sandals, and the choker he clasped on my neck the other night.

I expect him to tell me to undress him, but Tomasz helps me out of my dress and sits me on the edge of the bed before he pulls back. A thought darkens his eyes as he stands to his full height while he toes off his shoes and clumsily strips his socks by treading on the toes. The action is so unlike him that it makes me chuckle.

“You need to laugh more,” he says with a light chortle of his own.

The sound is so light that it makes my insides buzz with the happiness I’ve been trying to contain all day. I can hardly breathe through the butterflies fluttering from my belly to my chest, sticking in my throat as I watch him undress.

Piece by piece, he takes his tux off, his shirt…everything, until all that’s left is the ring on his finger. The black rhodium band is edged in the same copper-tinged gold as mine that glints in the soft light.

Trailing my stare up his forearm, I take in every line etched onto his skin from his chest all the way down his sculpted stomach to his thick thighs. I’ve never appreciated tattoos, but I’m intrigued by each one on his body. There’s nothing delicate about them. Some are dark and haunting, but on him they are a thing of beauty.

Tomasz comes closer. His hulking presence makes my skin break out in goosebumps. When he cups my chin, lifting my gaze from his hardened length to his eyes, he tells me, “You will laugh for me at least once a day…it’s a new rule, pet.”

“Do I have to be your pet right now? Can’t I just be your wife?”

“From today…the moment I put my ring on your finger…you are always my wife, my pet, and you will be the mother of my children.”

There’s no room for argument, and in my bemused state, I snap, “Why give me that fucking pill if it means so much to you?”

In a swift, inescapable move, he grasps my throat and lifts me to my feet. Anger marls the blue of his eyes a stormy grey.

“Mind your fucking mouth.”

The grit in his words makes my blood pump faster, a disconcerting conflict of emotions and sensations taking over me. Violence has never felt so good as it does with him. Fear has never been so empowering as when he makes me feel it. It makes little sense, but my body goes from a heated longing to an overwhelming ache that only intensifies the longer he holds me in his tight grasp.

“Why give me the pill?” I rasp, gripping his shoulders.

“What pill? What the fuck are you talking about?” Setting me on my feet, Tomasz looks me over, confusion pinching the chiselled lines of his face.

Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but he doesn’t seem to have a clue about what I’m saying.

“What fucking pill?”

“I thought you—” I pause, tilting my head back to get a good look at his face as I edge closer with my heart thumping in my throat, right where his hand was gripping me. “The morning after…you…we…”

“Spit it out, Red. You thought what?”

“Elif made it seem like it was from you. I assumed you told her to give it to me because of what happened.”

“What happened…” The echo of my words sounds ridiculous to my ears. After everything that’s gone on between us, it seems silly not to state fact.

“You came inside me, and I’m not…I’m not protected, so it made sense at the time…”

“Really? It made sense for me to send someone to do my dirty work for me?” Even with rage twisting his face, Tomasz is by far the most dazzling man I’ve ever laid eyes on. And when our naked bodies press together, neither of us can resist the need to hold on to one another. “How many times have I come inside you?”

“It was different that time.”

“Was it, Lucy?” It’s the way that he says my name that cuts through me, seeped in disappointment even through his fury. Never mind that it’s not the usual way he addresses me. “I fucked you then the same way I’ve fucked you every time since.”

“But you didn’t love me then.” The words escape me as I stroke my hand up his chest to cup his jaw. It strikes me then that I’ve been waiting for him to tell me the words that I already know. For him to tell me something that he’s shown me repeatedly.

“She’s lucky she’s already dead,” he says, venom coating every word even as his hands mould to my arse and he hitches me up his body with ease, his cock stroking down my belly to my slit.

My heavy breasts press to the top of his chest as I look down at his face. Every perfect line makes my breath catch, and the depth of his stare makes it impossible to ignore the fact that he hasn’t rubbished my statement.

Before his lips devour mine, I pull away to tell him, “I didn’t take it.”

“Good.” That’s all he says before I kiss him.

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