Page 160 of Carnal

My stomach dives. I say, "I'll go take it off."

He reaches forward and unzips the dress. Then he pushes it over my shoulders.

I swallow hard, feeling exposed and vulnerable.

His eyes scan my body, and my gut flips faster.

He hands the dress to Frida and orders, "Time to leave."

"I'll bring it back tomorrow after the tailor fixes it," Frida states.

I stay quiet, wondering if Biagio will try to burn my eyes out again.

The door shuts. Biagio turns his seedy expression on me. "You look good."

"Thank you. Did you have a good week?" I question, walking toward the closet.

He follows me. "Yeah, it was okay." He takes off his shirt and tosses it on the floor in front of me.

I freeze, close my eyes, then spin. Veins pop out all over his chest and arms. I swear he's on steroids, which isn't attractive to me. But it's also a reminder he could crush me in an instant.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"We're taking a shower," he proclaims, then drops his pants and wraps his arms around me.

Alarm bells ring in my head. I blurt out once again, "What are you doing?"

Rage flares on his expression, scaring me. He keeps his voice calm, asserting, "I just got home. I've been gone a week. I'm ready for you to show me how much you missed me."

Bile rises in my throat and I swallow it down. "We're not doing this."

His eyes flare. "What do you mean we're not doing this?"

I think fast on my feet and put my hand on his cheek. "We need to wait until we're married."

He laughs. "What do you think I am? An altar boy? No, wait. Do you think you're a nun and I'm a priest?"

I reply, "Well, if I'm a nun and you're a priest, we wouldn't have sex at all."

He grunts, tugging me closer to his muscular body.

I push on his chest. "Biagio, please. I'm begging you. Wait until after the wedding."

Anger flares in his face. "You don't want to fuck me?"

I want to say no, but I refrain. I debate about how to get my way. There's no way I want to have sex with him. I don't know how I'll get out of it once we're married, but I'll put it off as long as I can.

I need to get out of this relationship.

Do I have any choices left?

"Oh, now you're not going to answer me," he seethes.

I step closer and put my hands on his cheeks, lying, "I just want it to be special when we finally do it."

"We've done it before," he claims.

My pulse skyrockets. His statement makes me queasy, but there's no time to dwell on what we've done in the past. I admit, "But I don't remember it."

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