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She twists within my grasp. “Valentino! Be serious.”
“I’ve never been more serious.” I stare her down but I doubt she grasps that even one lifetime would never be enough.
“Five years. I can’t do more than that. If you make me try, I will find a way to leave, and this time I won’t come back.”
I grab the sides of her face with my hands and bring her face to mine. “Understand this, principessa: you can never escape me for long. I don’t care if you hole up in a hovel in some remote country where Wi-Fi won’t exist in my lifetime, I will always find you.”
We’re in a standoff. This time Sloane doesn’t back down.
I puff an annoyed breath out. As much as I like her tied to my bed, I’d rather her willing as she walks down the aisle to become mine. “Five years?”
“That’s what I need.”
“Five years then.” Five years is more than enough time to change her mind because one thing is for certain, I will never let her go. In fact…
“Valentino, put me down!” Sloane clutches my neck as I move her from the chair to the bed.
“In due time.” I lay her gently on the bed. “Someone said satin bonds didn’t show a sign of respect, and I think she’s in need of a demonstration.”
Sloane’s eyes widen, her pupils dilate, and her breathing becomes uneven. I glance at her chest to see her nipples poking out of her shirt at me. I know the erect little buds aren’t reacting to cool air because the temperature sits at a comfortable seventy degrees.
I grab the hem of her shirt and begin drawing the material over her belly, but she pushes at my hands, blocking me from my goal. I glance at her face, but she turns away from me. “What’s going on inside that head of yours now?”
“I want to keep my shirt on.”
I focus on her profile since she refuses to face me. “Why? I’ve seen everything you have, as I’m sure others have,” I remind her, although knowing other men have touched what doesn’t belong to them sparks an angry flame in my chest.
“That was different. You only saw me naked for medical reasons. I don’t want you touching my…”
“Your what? Scars?” I doubt my guess is accurate. I’ve never seen Sloane doubt herself this way, but we’ve never discussed her body so openly in all our years of friendship.
She proves me wrong when she closes her eyes and brokenly whispers, “They’re hideous.”
“Bull. Shit.” I tug my hand from beneath hers and grip her shirt again. “Look at me.” I should probably be nice and sweet and all the things Tácito is, but I’m not him and I doubt she would believe me if I tried to be. When she finally returns my glare, I rip the material up the middle with a cruel sneer on my face.
“Valentino!” She attempts to cover her torso and breasts by folding her arms around herself and drawing up her legs.
“Don’t Valentino me. Not after you insulted my body.”
“I didn’t insult your body. Your body is amaz—I mean, I’ve heard stories, and your body is nothing to sneeze at.”
Although I intend to teach Sloane a lesson, I can’t ignore what slipped out of her mouth. I grin. “Tell me, what have you heard?”
“I’m not going to stroke your ego with everything your lovers say. My point still stands. I didn’t insult your body.”
I pull her legs straight and manacle her wrists in one of my hands. “That’s where you’re wrong, principessa.” With my other hand, I trail my fingers from her hairline down her cheek, over her nose, past her lips, not stopping until I cup her pussy. “All of this is mine, and I only own beautiful things.”
“But…” A look of incomprehension steals across her face.
“There are no buts.” I press my lips against a new scar above her left breast, then an older burn scar from her Air Force days on her ribs. I continue to brush tender caresses against her puckered skin until her body relaxes. “These are badges proving your fearlessness, your courage, and your determination. How could I not see the beauty in them?”
Her chest heaves and a strangled cry escapes. “I don’t know what’s come over me.”
I crawl up her body until I can stare into her eyes, but she denies me with her closed lids. Water seeps beneath her lashes and a sob breaks free from the stranglehold she has on her emotions, nearly gutting me. I press our foreheads together. This is the second time I’ve seen her reduced to tears. The first time, I was too angry to process. This time, powerlessness nearly swallows me whole.
“Principessa, let me make you feel good.” I brush my lips against her.
“I’m so far from being a princess, it isn’t funny.”
