Page 45 of Vicious Games

Not a trophy possession.

Not a fuck toy.

Not my own cute little whore.

My wife. My love. My own.

This was a disaster. I knew my nature. If I was ruthless when I thought my motive was a mere desire to possess, I could not imagine what I would be capable of when I knew it was love.

Once more, I stared at her beautiful profile. This sweet, innocent, talented, amazing woman who didn’t deserve me. She didn’t deserve the darkness I had brought, and would bring, into her life. She was right to run as far away as possible from me.

Now, it was too late.

Now that I finally accepted that it was love that drove me… it was too late for both of us.

Far. Too. Late.

Aurora’s hands stilled.

I rose and crossed to her.

She turned on the piano bench. Her eyes were downcast, avoiding my gaze as she spoke. “Did you know Rachmaninoff dreamed he was attending his own funeral and that was what inspired this piece?” Her voice was soft and low, devoid of emotion.

Careful not to startle her, I reached down and cupped her cheeks in my palms. I gently turned her face up to me.

Tears glinted in her sapphire eyes. “Roman, I—”

I swiped at her tears with the pad of my thumb. “Stop. Please, baby. Don’t say another word.” I lifted her off the bench and pressed her body close to mine as I wrapped an arm around her. “I was wrong. I never should have pushed you into accepting my proposal. It was too soon.”

Her hands gripped at my suit lapels. “Do you mean that, Roman?”

I kissed her on her forehead, then on the top of each cheek, then gently on her lips. “I do.”

My first lesson in love was that it was easier to lie.

When she was a possession I wanted to obtain, it was far more fun to tell her the truth, or at least something brutally close to the truth, to keep her guessing. It amused me to know she knew some of the despicable things I had done to claim her, and yet she opened her legs for me anyway. There was power in that. The power to overrun another person’s sense of self-preservation, to win out over their own conscience and sense of right and wrong.

But now things had shifted.

I now had a stake in this twisted, toxic game we were playing.

If I was capable of terrible things to capture her just to fuck her, there was nothing I wouldn’t do now to make her love me back.

I pressed her forward until her back was against the piano. I claimed her lips. Not in my usual tyrannical way, but softly. I let my lips linger over hers. Breathing in her air as my own. The tip of my tongue teasing her bottom lip before skimming over her cheek to taste her tears.

Aurora reached for the buttons of my suit vest.

My hands cupped hers, stilling her. “Not here. Upstairs in our bed.”

She frowned.

I had fucked her countless times on this piano, under this piano, and in front of the fireplace. There were very few rooms in this house that I hadn’t bent her over a chair and whipped her raw with my belt before fucking her senseless, but things had changed. I was sure I would be back to my debauched self tomorrow, but tonight I wanted to make love to the woman I loved.

I lifted her in my arms and carried her up the stairs to our bedroom. I placed her gently on the bed, then pushed her hands aside as I undressed her. As I unbuttoned her blouse, I had a vision of the torn shreds and scattered buttons from the blouse she was wearing earlier this morning. Reining in my still primal desire to conquer and dominate, I forced myself to take it slow. This was for her, not me. I needed to regain her trust.

When she was finally naked, I let my gaze slide leisurely over her creamy skin and beautiful curves. “Open your legs.”

A pretty blush blossomed on her cheeks as she obeyed me.

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