Page 123 of The Ecstasy of Sin
Then he pauses, visibly annoyed with himself. “Shit,” he mutters, realizing his hand is still covered in soap. He pulls back and rinses it behind him, then carefully washes the outside of my lips where he touched me. “I’m sorry, baby.”
My mouth stays closed as he tends to me.
“Okay. I… thank you,” I say quietly. I’m going to have to start accepting these things, and stop punishing myself for not earning what he gives so freely.
“You’re welcome,” he murmurs. “She’ll be able to use the small state-of-the-art medical facility I had built into the basement of our new home. There’s a CT scanner being delivered tonight.”
I freeze.
My heart kicks into a panicked rhythm, like a caged animal trapped behind my ribs. Confused, desperate, and cornered. “E—Excuse me?”
He hums, almost amused. “Ah. Right. I guess I forgot to mention… I bought us a new home.”
I say nothing. The words are caught in my throat. My chest aches, and I think I’m having a heart attack. “You… forgot. You… bought.” I stammer, and for once it’s not because of the migraine.
He responds, his voice calm and even, like he’s discussing the damn weather. “It should be ready for us to move in tomorrow night. Ryker’s crew and some other contract hires have been working day and night to finish all the renovations.”
A weight presses down on my chest. My lungs collapse with an exhale, and then I’m gasping, frantic, shallow breaths to match the wild pounding of my heart.
“Hey,” Dominic says firmly, lifting me as water sloshes over the sides of the oversized tub. He shifts me effortlessly, straddling me across his lap so I’m facing him. “Take a deep breath. You’re safe.”
One of his hands settles over my heart—broad, warm, and steady—while the other strokes slow lines up and down my back. His eyes lock onto mine, grounding me with sheer force of will.
“This is too much,” I choke out between gasps. “You can’t do all this. It’s… it’s too expensive. A CT machine? Are you insane? I can’t—I can’t do this.”
Dominic’s gaze darkens, the green of his irises swallowed by something innately terrifying. His cock hardens beneath me, thick and heavy between my thighs, and his voice drops low. “I thought we were past this, little lamb, but it seems you need a harder lesson.”
I’m shaking as he reaches back and pulls the drain plug. The water begins to whirl away, but he doesn’t let me go. He turns the faucet, then presses a button on the wall, redirecting the stream to the handheld shower wand.
He stands up carefully, lifting me with him, and rinses us both off in silence.
My breathing’s so erratic now, I’ve become a little dizzy, swaying on my feet. He catches me instantly, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around my shivering body.
His hands steady me. “Do you trust me, Wren? Do you trust that you’re safe with me? That I’d never do anything to hurt you?”
I do. Trust isn’t the problem here. He’s killed for me, held me when I was broken, and fed me when I was starving. I’ve never once felt unsafe in his arms.
But going from homeless and penniless… to this pampered, protected woman who hasn’t earned any of the extravagance being given? That is what’s killing me.
Still, I nod.
“Good,” he murmurs. “Remember that. Because what happens next might not feel that way at first.”
My eyes widen as he lifts me again, water dripping from his skin, and steps out of the tub with me cradled in his arms. He sets me down long enough to towel us both off, and then lifts me again and heads for the bedroom.
“Dominic…” I whisper, my voice sounding so fragile. My heart is thundering from the burst of anxiety.
He says nothing as he lowers me onto the bed. I watch as he ushers Hunter out with a quiet command, and shuts the door behind him.
He turns back to me, and my eyes go wide as he moves to the bedside table and opens the drawer, pulling out two sets of handcuffs.
“Dominic,” I breathe, panic crawling up my spine.
I start to scoot backward, putting space between us, but he follows me. He crawls over the bed like a predator, until my back is pressed against the headboard and he is looming over me.
“I love you, Wren,” he says, his voice thick with something dark and unrecognizable. He reaches beside me, slipping his hand between the mattress and the headboard. My eyes track his every movement. “I love you the way the devil loves hell. The way he fell from grace and built his own kingdom in darkness and sin… a home for the fallen angels he loves more than himself.”
He pulls a chain free, and my heart nearly gallops out of my chest. Before I can even try to haul myself from the bed and run, he’s secured one end of the handcuffs to my left wrist, attaching the other end to the chain.
