Page 131 of The Billionaire's Secret
"Security. It was an arrangement, that's all." My nerve endings crackle. "You have nothing to be jealous of," I mumble. "We were only married for a month."
"You didn't love him, yet you married him. Makes me wonder what hold he had on you." His grip turns punishing.
I wince, but don’t pull away. The pain he inflicts is a reminder that I am alive… So is he. There is hope for both of us… I just need to make it right by him…while figuring out how to also rescue Nina.
This is the perfect moment to tell him why you are here. Confess it. Win his trust...And what if he hates me for it?
Worse, what if the Mafia finds out?
There is no telling what they'd do to Nina if that happened. I bite the inside of my cheek. I can't betray her. I have to keep up the pretense. "No hold, Saint," I lie, "other than the kind a man with money has over a woman who needs security."
"Is that important to you, Gigi? Security?" He drags his hand down my arm, until his fingers brush the ring on my left hand.
I glance down at the emerald winking against the bubbles.
"Sure," I swallow. "You’ve always had money. You didn’t have to scrimp and save for small treats, or watch your mother work two jobs to support you, or work your butt off to win a scholarship to college. You're not the one who was left alone when your mother died, then meeting the one person who became your best friend only to lose her; you aren't at the mercy of—" I twist my lips.Shit, what is wrong with me? Why does he always catch me unawares? I almost blurted out everything that happened to Nina...to me. Dammit.
"Mercy of...? he tilts his head.
"Mercy of fate, of course. We can plan all we want, but life takes us in directions we’d never intended to go."
He lifts his other hand in the air, twirls his finger, "You mean like this."
I glance around the massive bathroom that is three times the size of the room in which I had grown up. "Exactly." I turn to glance at him.
He lowers his arm, slides his hand between my legs, inserts two fingers inside of me.
I shudder.
He hooks his fingers, and I can’t stop my internal muscles from clamping down on him. A shiver of lust crawls up my spine and my breathing goes ragged. I half close my eyes, take in his features. He watches me with curiosity, a hunger in his eyes, his lips pressed together as if intent on the task at hand. He twists my arm around my back, so my chest is pushed forward. My breath trembles and my nipples pucker to hard points. I wiggle, lean in, needing him to close his mouth around them. He holds me in place.
"You still sore?"
His voice fades in and out of my hearing. I focus on his fingers sliding in and out of me—soft, gentle.Christ, he doesn’t have a tender bone in his entire body, yet there is no mistaking the barely imperceptible movements of his digits inside of me.I draw in a breath, and his scent, dark and edgy—now laced with roses, which only heightens the pheromone-laced impact of his essence—goes straight to my head. My head spins. My eyelids flutter shut.
"Victoria?" His voice seems to come from far away. "Gigi?" His breath whispers over my cheek.
"You okay?" His lips quirk.
I nod.
"Are you sore?"
I nod again. He ceases that beautiful friction, withdraws his hand.
"No." I force my eyelids open, "I mean, I am sore, but not tha-a-t sore."
"Ah," his lips twitch.
A flush creeps up my throat, but damn that. I want his fingers back inside of me. Want him to do all of those things he’s been hinting at over the past few weeks.
"You asked what I needed, Saint?"
His gaze narrows. He looks down his patrician nose, the skin stretching tight over his cheekbones. He jerks his chin.
I raise my head, "I want you to fuck me like you don’t care about me. Can you do that? Can you screw me without mercy?"
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