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“That was the worst part,” he rasps in my ear after a long while. I blink and realize I’ve drifted off. I’m unsteady on my feet, still leaning against him as the shower beats down in a gentle rain. He must have a massive hot water tank.
“What was?”
“Sitting as the doctor stitched me up, learning you’d wandered into Stephanos’ lair wearing nothing but two guns and my coat.”
“I wore heels and stockings too,” I correct, not wanting him to miss out on the full visual. He plucks my nipples in retaliation, and I welcome the sting. I need something to pull me out of my haze.
“I waited and waited for word of what happened to you.”
“Why?”
“You know why.”
I could deny that I do, but it’s obvious. He wanted me alive so he could kill me himself. Sometimes, when I wake up on my pallet in the cage, I’m surprised I’m still alive.
“And then I learned you were still alive and safe. Secured in the Regis family’s stronghold.”
“Not so secure,” I mutter, remembering how easily he found me.
“There is no fortress that can keep me out. It was only a matter of time.” He skates a hand down my front until he cups my pussy. He pushes two fingers into me and tugs forward, roughly massaging my G-spot until my damn body shakes like the last autumn leaf on a branch. “And while I searched for you, I imagined what I’d do to you. How I’d train you to please me.”
As his fingers delve deep, stretching me, he rubs the heel of his palm over my clit, frigging me in rough, scrubbing movements. Like my orgasm will be a punishment. With my sex raw from the orgasms he gave me earlier, maybe it will be. “How I’d punish you for leaving. For nearly throwing your life away.”
“Not for trying to kill you?”
“No, Lula.” He releases my cunt, leaving me on the brink. It’s both a relief and a torment. I grit my teeth to bite back my moan. “We both know you didn’t try to kill me.”
“I shot you.”
“In the gut.” He takes a handful of my wet hair and tugs my head back. In this position, I’m vulnerable. But it feels good, too, the pinch of pain at my skull from his fist in my hair and the water washing over my upturned face.
His teeth score my throat.
“I’ve never killed before. Maybe that’s why I missed Stephanos.” My voice wobbles. After all my practice and long hours at the range, I proved too soft-hearted. Too weak.
“Perhaps. But you didn’t miss me. You could’ve shot me between the eyes. Instant death.” He guides my head down so he can take the nape of my neck between his teeth. Like a lion disciplining a lioness. “Or in the heart. But you didn’t, did you?”
“Maybe I wanted you to suffer.”
“You left your mark on me, but you wanted me to live? Because deep down you knew.”
I jerk back, jabbing my elbows into his solid frame. I haven’t fought him before, wanting to wait until he’s truly off guard, and this isn’t a real or very serious attempt. We’re both naked in the shower, but he’s twice as large as me and more confident in hand-to-hand combat. An elbow in the gut won’t incapacitate him, not even if I get lucky and poke him right in his healing wound. My struggles are futile.
But I have to shut him up.
My feet slip on the tile as I push myself away, finding a corner to brace my back in. He’s on me immediately, grabbing my wrists as I claw at him, closing in and pinning my legs so I can’t kick. I snarl, teeth bared, and he shoves me flush against the wall, my wrists caught in his grip and secured over my head. He’s taller than me and monstrously strong, using every inch of his body to trap me. Both of my wrists fit into his left hand, leaving his right one free to collar my neck. In the end, I’m imprisoned between him and the shower tile.
I can’t move, but I can glare at him. If looks could kill, he’d be bleeding out. He studies me and smiles, water streaming down his brutally beautiful face. His lips are close to mine. If he tries to kiss me, I’ll bite through his tongue.
“You could’ve killed me,” he purrs. “And you didn’t. You know why?”
I surge against him and use the little space I gain to twist away from him. He slams me front-first against the tile, his dick jabbing my back. His chuckle echoes around the shower.
“You liked me, Lula. You didn’t want me to die.”
“You weren’t worth another bullet.”
He presses into me more, keeping me pinned while he shifts his right hand to get a better grip on my throat. “You hoped I would live. And you knew if I did, I would come for you. A part of you must have wanted it.”
