Page 64 of The Ecstasy of Sin
“Who knew I was so into the crazy stalker type,” I tease.
His smile is radiant; his straight, white teeth gleaming in the morning light. “We are perfect for each other.”
“I know you’re… different, but you never made me feel like I was in any real danger.”
His brow, marked by a freshly healed scar, lifts in amusement. “Just because I’d never kill you, doesn’t mean I won’t hurt you. I will hurt you, Wren, I’ll just make sure you come while you cry for me.”
His smile deepens at the shock on my face, which quickly turns to a blush as my pulse thrums to life. The one between my legs, that is. Awakened by the memory of him giving me the greatest orgasm of my life. Something I didn’t even know was possible. Not to that extreme, anyway.
“Who knew you were so romantic.”
It pulls a laugh from him, sharp and sudden, and I like the way it lights up his face.
“I am many things, little lamb, just don’t forget that I’m not a hero.”
I study him for a moment, his expression serious now, like he’s expecting me to remember he’s a murderer and go running for my life. Maybe I should, that’s probably what a normal, sane person would do. But nothing about me or my life is normal.
And it’s been a long time since I meant anything to anyone.
“You’re the only one that looks at me like I’m not worthless. When you look at me, you really see me. You don’t look through me, or hope that I just… go away.”
I can’t hide the pain in my voice, and I can’t stop it from reflecting in my eyes. I fight back the urge to tear up, the sadness mixing with shame.
It’s not easy exposing the ugly parts of me to a man like him.
Dominic’s gaze narrows, and something dark and unrecognizable flickers in his expression. It vanishes before I can name it.
“You belong to me now, Wren. Your days of struggling through life alone are over.”
I smile at him, but it’s a sad one. He sees it instantly, and this time I can understand the emotion he’s feeling: frustration.
I reach up, cupping his face with my hand. “You’ll get bored of me. I won’t be mad when you’re ready to move on.”
“I need you to keep one foot in reality,” he says evenly, his voice dangerously low, like he’s trying to keep himself calm. “If you think I’m ever letting you go, you’re going to struggle through this transition.”
Transition? My confusion must be written all over my face, but he doesn’t make any effort to elaborate. I shake my head slowly. “What do you mean?”
“You’re moving in with me.”
Is that a joke?
“I’m literally a chronically ill homeless girl with no job,” I tell him, my voice a little on the hysterical side, because he’s actinglike he’s forgotten everything he knows about me. “I’m nothing but a burden. You’re crazy to want me as a roommate.”
He can’t be serious. Especially knowing that I can’t contribute to anything until I find a job. Which has proven to be nearly impossible lately.
“You aren’t homeless anymore, because my bed is where you belong.” His voice is so steady, so firm, that I find myself speechless when confronted by it. “I want this transition to go smoothly. I wanted to be patient and ease you into it. But I can’t do that anymore.”
“I don’t understand.” The first threads of fear slither down my spine, coiling tight.
“You’re coming with me, little lamb. I’m taking you home. Right now.”
“I can’t accept that,” I protest, my voice catching. “As generous as it is, Dom, I can’t live off you. I can’t even help with bills. And we don’t—” I swallow. “We don’t know each other well enough to live together and—”
He shakes his head, silencing me. “I know that you’re mine. You know that you feel safe with me. You’ll learn everything else pretty quickly with us living together.”
I press my hands to his chest and try to shift off his lap, but he tightens his grip.
Instead of letting me go, he shifts my body upright and draws my legs around his hips. Now I’m straddling him, trapped in the cage of his arms.
