Page 125 of Where Dark Hearts Devour
“This isn’t my home.”
“It can be, Trilby. Just say the word.”
“I ... I’m confused. How is all my stuff here?”
“The last time I asked you to move in, I didn’t get the answer I wanted, so I’m not asking again. You know what they say—it’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission.”
I turn around and stare at him wide-eyed. “You ... you want me to move in with you?”
Cristiano draws his hands from his pockets and stalks toward me. He invades my space, breathing heavily, and lifts my chin up until my eyes reach his. “How many different ways do I have to say it, Trilby? I want you to be my wife. That generally means I’d like you to live under the same roof as me.”
I blink at him numbly.
“And I know how fucking weird you are about your closet, so I figured, let’s just get everything here, and then you won’t have to worry about it.”
“But ... how?” My head is spinning. He would have needed a small army to move all this stuff in just a few hours.
“It doesn’t matter.” His voice softens. “What matters is it’s here. And you’re here. That’s all I care about. Everything else, we can deal with together, all right?”
I nod, words eluding me for the first time ever.
He bows his head toward me, and I smell toothpaste, fresh sweat, and musky dust. That’s what transporting antique furniture and vintage clothes does to you. “Now, after the calamity that was the collapsing hospital bed, can Ipleasefuck you?”
I rise up onto my tiptoes and brush my lips over his. “I thought you’d never ask.”
We launch for each other, grabbing at one another’s skin, hair, and clothing. I want to feel him everywhere.
“Are you mine?” he murmurs into my mouth.
I nod.
He grabs my hair in his fist. “Are youmine?”
I gasp. “I couldn’t be anyone else’s.”
“Yes, you could.” His tone is gritty. “You could belong to anyone you wanted. Don’t think I haven’t seen the way other men drool over you. The way they can’t take their eyes off you.”
I coast my fingers through his hair and grip it like he’s gripping mine. “Those other men?” I stare into his eyes and mean every word. “They fell for my smile. But you?”
His eyes search mine.
“You fell for my tears.”
He stares at me for a long moment. Then he releases my hair and drops onto my lips with a grievous moan.
My eyes drift shut as Cristiano lowers me to a rug that only this morning was laid on my bedroom floor. He straddles me on his hands and knees and stares at me with dark eyes. I lick my lips, and he emits a low growl before shifting his feet downward. He hooks a leg and props it up, then he licks a hot, wet line from my ankle to the crease of my knee. It’s slow and torturous, when all I want is him inside me—now. I didn’t dare believe it would happen again, so now that it is happening, I can’t wait any longer.
His lips skitter over my upper leg, his hot breath curling my toes. Then he’s inching his way toward the apex of my thighs.
“Cristiano ... please ...” I need to feel him inside of me. It’s a need I don’t have the words for.
He lifts his head, a frown line creasing his brow. “You’re trying to stop me from eating you out?”
I nod, but before I can explain myself, his brows knit together, and a low growl erupts from somewhere in his chest.
“What the actual fuck Trilby? I’m starving for you, and I didn't fight my way to the top of the food chain to be a vegetarian.”
Breath rushes out of my lungs. Well,fuck.
