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I choke out a startled laugh. “Are you serious? You’re what trying to be…nice?”
He casually shrugs. “I wouldn’t call it nice, per se. Rather self-serving. Now take off this dress before I do.”
A breath rattles out of me. Is this just prelude to him drowning me like some kind of trophy brought back to his den?
“No, I don’t have intentions of drowning you in my bathtub,” he chastises. I shudder under the impression he just read my mind. Or the realization I’ve become so transparent to this man that he misses nothing.
Luca drops to his knees, and I flinch as he carefully begins to undo my heel. It’s almost comical seeing such a large man bent over to undo something as delicate as my heel strap. He slides the first heel off and puts it to the side.
Confused, I do as he says and undo my dress. I look behind at the mirror and see two bruise marks strapped across my ass. Wow. It hurt at the time… but I also enjoyed it. To see his branding is surreal. A reminder his brutal nature isn’t so far beneath the surface. It needs to be quenched in every sense.
I step out of my second heel and feel almost exposed as he looks back up at me through thick eyelashes. When he stands, I’ve dropped further in height without my heels and crane my neck to look up at him.
He seems to struggle with himself. I can see the burning desire in his gaze, but he steps away and clears his throat gesturing to the bathtub.
“I’m still not going to drown you,” he says as he picks up his glass of red wine and takes a sip. “I’m going to get you a bottle of water. When I return you better be in that bathtub.”
He closes the door behind him and I’m left in his bathroom. Alone. I’m waiting for the joke or for someone to jump out and attack me, but nothing happens. I look at myself in the mirror as if looking at myself for the first time. Small bruises mark my body from his possessive grip. I touch myself realizing how much cum remains. Both his and mine.
Am I out of my fucking mind for having sex with this man? Sure, I’m on birth control but that doesn’t mean accidents don’t happen.
I step into the bath a shiver racing over my spine at its stark heat. It’s deep and I let it swallow me whole. I sit at the edge looking out the window, embracing the heat that’s quick to go to my head with the mixture of alcohol.
Luca steps back into the room grabbing his glass of wine and passes me a bottle of water. I carefully take it, skeptical.
“No, it doesn’t have poison in it,” he adds as he sits on the outer edge of the bath still clothed.
His momentary kindness is confusing. I want to ask him if he’s going to join me but it also feels too intimate. He grabs the loofah and my preferred shower gel. “Turn around,” he commands.
“Why?” I ask.
“So I can wash you.”
My eyebrows furrow as I turn. I either hit my head at the club or drank way too much because none of these actions add up to the file or firsthand impression I have of Luca Armani. The warm loofah circles against my back. I can barely breathe as I focus on each swirl and stroke.
“Why are you doing this?” I ask nervously. I don’t like it. This level of intimacy. The parallel version of what I’d seen of Luca already. This is not the man I know. Not that I entirely know how to deal with that version, but this version is…almost gentle. And entirely not Luca Armani.
“All pets need to be bathed at some point, don’t they?”
My teeth grind, and surprisingly a laugh echoes behind me. I awkwardly look over my shoulder awestruck. A genuine laugh. Something that is beautiful and frightening in equal measure. If I’m seeing this surely I’m already dead.
The loofah rolls over my shoulder and across my chest. I can’t help but notice how sensual the traces are under his unyielding attention. I grab the water bottle and gulp. Am I drunk?
“I’ll ask you again, Ara. Why are you stalking me?” he asks.
“Stalked,” I correct. “Past tense. I don’t find you interesting anymore.”
He chuckles and his voice comes out like a sweet caress and promise. “Oooh, but surely you don’t think you have the choice to leave, now do you?”
His hand trails down my stomach, and my eyes lock with his. “You don’t own me, Luca.”
The hand continues lower and the rough bristle of the loofah rubs against my sensitive clit. He shifts his hand so his fingers rub against my lips. “I would say there’s plenty of me that owns you, wouldn’t you agree?”
My body naturally sinks into him and I hate that his chest turns into the support I need when his finger dips into my swollen pussy. “Now I’ll ask again nicely, sweetheart. What are you trying to gain from me?”
“Your charming personality of course,” I say dryly.
A second finger dips inside of me, and I know my back is soaking his dress shirt, but I don’t even care. The suction from the warm bath adds another element of pressure.
