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Salvatore snorts. “I don’t think you have a routine, Gia. Anyone as spoiled as you just does whatever she wants when the mood strikes her. At her own whim.”
Anger instantly bubbles up in my chest, and I seethe. “Oh fuck you,” I snap. “I’ll go upstairs and change when I’m ready. And I’m not done yet.”
I turn my attention back to my workout, and I expect him to leave. I hoped I put enough finality in my tone that he’d take the hint for once, and let me alone. But clearly, it wasn’t good enough, because when I look up again, he’s still watching me in the mirror.
“I want privacy.” I look at him, moving my legs back and forth, my body in a V-shape. “You want privacy in your study, I want it in here.” My voice comes out more breathless than I’d like, this far into my workout. Strained. The way I sounded in bed on our wedding night, when Salvatore made me come apart, his fingers between my legs. Inside of me.
“It’s my house.” Salvatore shrugs, his gaze fixed on me in the mirror. And I realize, with rising awareness, that he’s having a hard time leaving. He wants to watch me.
Get back at him. Make him want you. Punish him.
I roll over onto my hands and knees, facing the mirror. For the briefest moment, Salvatore’s eyes dip, down to the shape of my ass in the tight leggings. Down further, to the cutouts along my legs filled in with black netting. Back up to the mirror, fast enough that I could have missed it if I weren’t watching him, too. I arch my back, moving into the next part of my routine, and I see Salvatore tense.
“I thought it was our house now.” I stretch one long leg out and then another. I see his jaw tighten, and his gaze flick over me again. “So I should get places where I can be alone, if I want.”
“I came to remind you about dinner.” He shifts his weight, and when I look at him again, I can see the beginning of the shape of his cock in his trousers. I’m turning him on. If I were a betting woman, I’d guess that he wants to leave, but can’t bring himself to.
He’s not just lying to me about his desires. He’s lying to himself, too.
“Well, I’m reminded.”
“You’re going to be late, Gia. You’ve been in here long enough.”
“How do you know? Maybe I just started.”
I see his eyes sweep over me again, taking in the patches of sweat on my clothing, the way it clings tightly to my damp skin. I see him shift again, see his cock thicken. “You didn’t,” he says tightly. “Stop making everything so difficult, Gia.”
“I’m sorry.” The tone in my voice implies I’m not sorry at all. “I didn’t mean to make it so hard.”
Salvatore flinches. His eyes meet mine, and he sees the challenge there. The rebellion. He takes a step into the room, and shuts the door behind him, flipping the lock.
My pulse leaps.
He strides across the room quickly, his long legs eating up the space before I can do more than move so that I’m sitting on the mat. He sinks down next to me, his hand suddenly pressed between my breasts as he pushes me down onto my back, looming over me. He’s breathing hard, his chest heaving, his eyes gone dark with arousal.
“You’re testing me, Gia,” he says darkly. “What will it take for you to learn manners? A little bit of gratitude, even?”
“For what?” I glare up at him. “You ruined my life.”
“No, I didn’t.” Salvatore meets my eyes, his own growing heated. “I saved you, but you’re too?—”
“Too what?” I fire back. “Don’t say too much of a child, you fucking hypocrite, because you’re not looking at me like one right now.”
Salvatore’s breathing quickens, his jaw tight. “You’re right,” he grinds out. “I’m looking at you like what you are.”
“And what’s that?” I whisper, feeling that warmth spread over my skin again at the look on his face, the rough desire in his voice.
Salvatore leans down, his hand still pinning me as his mouth moves closer to my lips. “My fucking wife,” he growls.
And then his mouth presses hard against mine.
His tongue sweeps over my lower lip, sliding into my mouth when I gasp in shock, tangling with mine. He tastes like spices, with a hint of something sweet, and for a brief moment, my senses are overwhelmed with him—with the taste of his mouth, the heat of his body, and the ruthlessness of the kiss. The one, brief moment where he gives in to the desire he keeps denying he feels, and kisses me like he wants me.
And then he pulls back, his expression cold and hard. His hand stays pressed against my chest as the other slides down my side, his fingers hooking in the waistband of my leggings.
With one swift motion, he yanks them and my panties down to my thighs.
“What are you doing?” I yelp. My refusal to come to terms with the fact that Salvatore is eventually going to take my virginity aside, I do not want to lose it on an exercise mat. “You said you didn’t want to hurt me when you fucked me! You will if you?—”
