A little moan sounded somewhere deep in my throat, and his kiss turned harder. He knew my body better than I did. He expertly thrust his tongue between my teeth, exploring every inch of my mouth. Every corner. Like it was our first kiss all over again.
A throbbing ache intensified between my thighs and another desperate moan escaped me when I felt the thick bulge of his erection nudging against my stomach.
More, please more.I wasn’t sure if I uttered the words or not, but he understood my need. He trailed rough, hungry kisses down my face, across my jawline, his scruff rough against my soft skin.
“Look at me.” His hand twisted around my ponytail, tilting my head up to look up at him. I forced my eyelids open. He was so close that I could see flecks of embers in his dark eyes. The need for him clawed at my chest. “How many?” I blinked in confusion at his question, frowning to get the meaning of it through my lust hazed brain.
“W-what?” I asked.
“How many fucking men have you had since I left Italy?”
A gasp tore from my lungs and something shattered inside me. Every dark, obsessive part of him lurked in his eyes, and the anger was the only thing I had left.
“Fuck you, Santi,” I snapped. “It’s none of your business.”
He stared at me for the longest time, then released me.
“I’ll find them,” he stated matter-of-factly. “And I’ll kill every single one of them.”
My eyes widened at his proclamation. There was darkness around him, pulling me in, threatening to swallow me whole if I let him.
“And Adriano?” I whispered. The air instantly chilled a few more degrees. “Are you going to kill him too?”
He went deathly still and the silence around us screamed, threatening to swallow me whole.
“Has he fucked you?” he snarled, his fingers digging into my wrist painfully. “Amore,” he growled in warning.
“Let me go!” I’d like to say my voice was firm but it was breathy. Raspy. Needy.
“Has. He. Touched. You?”
I stumbled backwards at his words. Did he think so little of me? I couldn’t even think about Adriano inside me. Santi was tormenting me. I wouldn’t let him.
“Tell me something, Santi.” I refused to let him have the upper hand, to toy with me. The breeze swept through the open window of the kitchen, the air cool. A sad Italian tune carried from somewhere in the distance. It reminded me of Italy and our time together there. “When did you find out about my marriage contract?” I asked him, my voice oddly calm, despite my skin burning after our shared kiss.
His body tensed but he didn’t move. “After Italy.”
My heart skidded to a stop, realization that he had ended things the way he did because of that revelation. The hurt still lingered somewhere deep. He should have told me, maybe we could have found a way…
I stopped the train of thought. It led nowhere, only to a deeper heartache.
“Well, at least you aren’t such a dirtbag to fuck a woman that has been promised to your brother.” The words were harsh, but his actions were harsher. It bothered me that he didn’t fight for me. From where I stood, it looked like he let go of me fairly easily. Which told me his feelings were never as strong as mine.
“Amore—”
“Don’t.” I shook my head. “Just… Don’t.”
“If I’d known, I would have—”
“What?” My voice rose a notch. “You would have what, Santi?”
“I wouldn’t have touched you.”
A sharp pain pierced through me, and a gasp escaped me. I was nothing but a piece of ass for this man while my heart bled in front of him, right onto the kitchen floor.
“That’s good to know.” I forced the pain deep down into a dark corner where the hurt of all my losses resided. “You know now though,” I continued. “Why the kiss, touch, or words? You know now I am Adriano’s.”
His jaw ticked, anger clear on his face.