Page 481 of Rosetti Family New York
She nods, but makes no move to cover herself. Instead, she reaches for me, her fingers tracing the scars on my chest, the evidence of battles fought and survived.
"Thank you," she says quietly. "For trusting me today. For letting me help instead of just hiding behind you. For… for signing up to protect me in the first place."
My hands still on her waist. She thinks I volunteered to look after her. Has no clue that Dom forced my hand, that I owe him a debt and I only rescued her from that parking garage to pay it off. But it's moved beyond that now, to a place where I couldn't imagine walking away from her, blood debt or not.
"Thank you for proving I was wrong about you," I reply, catching her hand and pressing it flat against my heart. "You're not the sheltered girl I thought you were."
"No," she agrees, sliding off the desk with fluid grace despite her state of undress. "I'm not."
12 - Carmela
“I want you to tie me up.”
The words hang in the air between us, raw and vulnerable in the darkness of Van's bedroom. We're still tangled in his sheets, both of us catching our breath from the intensity of what just happened, and I can feel my pussy still throbbing with aftershocks from how thoroughly he just fucked me. But even with my body still humming with satisfaction, I need more.
Van's body goes completely still beneath me, every muscle turning to bone. His steel-gray eyes search my face with that hypervigilant intensity that never fully leaves him—even in our sanctuary, he's always assessing threats, keeping me safe.
"What exactly are you thinking about, princess?" His voice is carefully controlled, but I can feel his pulse quicken under my fingertips where they rest against his throat.
Heat blooms across my cheeks despite everything we've already shared. My nipples are still hard from his mouth, my inner thighs sticky with evidence of how well he just made me come, but this feels like crossing into entirely new territory.
"The restraints," I say, forcing myself to hold his gaze. "I want to explore deeper submission with you." I trace the pulse point at his throat, feeling how it races. "After what happened at the gallery, Emma's head, those men… I trust you completely. I want to be bound for you."
The crisis feels like a lifetime ago, but it's only been hours since we proved we could handle anything together. That partnership, that trust we built under pressure—it's opened something inside me, made me crave surrendering control to him in ways I've never imagined.
He's quiet for a long moment, his surgeon's hands stroking through my hair. Those hands that saved the gallery assistant's life just hours ago, that just made me scream his name. "Carmela—"
"I know what I'm asking for," I interrupt, sitting up so he can see the certainty in my eyes. The silk sheets pool around my waist, cool against my heated skin. My breasts feel heavy, nipples tight as his gaze drops to them. "I've been thinking about those silk ties in your hidden room. About what it would feel like to give you that level of control over my body." I lean down to kiss him softly, tasting myself on his lips from when he ate me out earlier. "I want to give myself to you that way. Completely."
His cock stirs against my thigh, already hardening again despite how thoroughly we just fucked. But I can see the war playing out behind his eyes—want and hesitation battling each other.
"I've never been more sure of anything," I whisper against his lips. "Take me to your bedroom and show me what it means to belong to you."
Van's hands still in my hair, and I feel the shift in his breathing—deeper, more labored, like he's fighting something I can't see. His cock is fully hard now, pressed between us, but when Ilook up at him, there's something darker in his expression—not desire, but something that makes my chest tighten with concern.
"You don't understand what you're asking," he says, his voice rougher than usual, more broken than I've ever heard it. The protective instincts I've come to recognize are warring with something else, something that makes his hands shake slightly against my scalp.
"Then help me understand." I sit up fully, my lips still sensitive and swollen from his claiming, studying the way his jaw has gone tight. "Van, what is it?"
He struggles to meet my eyes, phantom pain making him flex his fingers. When he finally looks at me, I see the vulnerability he usually keeps buried so deep. "Being restrained… it's not just about control for me. There are memories—military things I don't talk about."
My heart clenches as understanding dawns. His dominance needs are tangled up with things that hurt him, and he's trying to protect me from that darkness.
"Afghanistan," I say softly, remembering fragments he's let slip. "Something happened when you were restrained."
His hands fist in the sheets, knuckles white. "I can't—when you're vulnerable like this, asking me to—" He breaks off, jaw working. "I should be protecting you, not dragging you into my fucked-up head."
But I can see how much he needs this, needs me. The way his cock throbs against his stomach despite his hesitation tells me everything.
Twenty minutes later, I'm lying on Van's bed with my wrists bound to the headboard with silk ties, exactly as I'd imagined. The material feels cool against my heated skin, creating delicious tension between comfort and complete vulnerability. My legs are spread wide, ankles tied to the bedposts, leaving me completely exposed to his hungry gaze.
Van moves around the room calmly, but I can see the tension in every line of his body. His cock is hard, jutting from his body, but his breathing tells me he's fighting internal demons.
"How does that feel?" he asks, checking the restraints. His fingers brush against my pulse points, and I know he's monitoring my reaction.
"Perfect," I breathe, and it's true. The restraint makes every sensation more intense, makes me hyperaware of how I am already growing wet just from being displayed for him like this. "Van, look at me."
When his eyes meet mine, I see the exact moment something breaks inside him. His face crumbles, and suddenly he's sitting heavily on the edge of the bed, head in his hands.
