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This isn’t how this was supposed to be. I wanted to give away this part of me, not have it wrenched from my unwilling grasp. But now this part of me is no longer mine to give away. It belongs to someone else. It belongs to...
Vance.
Tears heat the backs of my eyes, and my sinuses burn. I never cry. I never fucking cry. I scream reminders in my head.
Don’t show him your tears! Don’t ever show a man those little glass balls of weakness, because fuck them! They don’t deserve them!
There’s only one person I would shed tears for. And it’s not the man between my legs. I will cry for the man who rescued me from myself on several occasions. I will cry for the man who saw through my tough exterior and found the person buried within. But I refuse to shed a single tear for anyone else.
“Look at me, whore,” Antonio growls, his hand prodding between my legs as he snatches my panties aside.
Memories of Vance blanket my mind, soothing the panic raging through my bones. I think of him. His strong, hungry hands on my body. The way he looked at me as if he needed me as much as I needed him.
Heat burns against my crotch, and I know what’s coming. I look up at the ceiling. I look anywhere but at the man who is about to destroy me.
Antonio draws back his hips, and I clutch the sheet in my hands, closing my eyes so I can hide from the monster. I squeeze the thin fabric, grit my teeth, and prepare for the hell barreling toward me.
Cold vacancy slips between us, and his hands move off my legs. My eyes open. He’s ripped away from me, and I scream.
I draw my legs together, pinching them closed, and shield myself from the mayhem erupting around me. Grunts float between my ears. Cloth rips, flesh collides with flesh, and feet squeak against the floor. My spine stiffens and I jerk my head toward the sounds that seem to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once.
My eyes are fucking deceiving me. Antonio must have knocked me out, and now I’m dreaming. I pinch my arm to be sure, and the sharp sting tells me I’m very much awake. And I’m very much watching Antonio get the living hell beaten out of him.
The man pummeling my husband could kill him much more quickly if he wanted to, but he doesn’t. He’s toying with him. And he’s doing it while his dark eyes fuck me with a hot, jealous glare.
As he squeezes my husband’s throat and stops his onslaught, his warm, buttery voice permeates me to my very core. “Did you miss me, little girl?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Vance
Her husband’s fight dissipates in my grasp. Bella’s expression hardens. She looks as though she doesn’t believe what she sees in front of her. As her lips tighten into a hard line and her eyes widen with uncertainty, I can’t help but wonder how this will turn out.
Will she run into my arms? Or will she run away from me?
She says nothing, but then the corners of her lips draw upward in the most intoxicating smirk.
“Kill him,” she whispers.
I planned to do it anyway, but hearing those sadistic words roll from her pretty mouth fills my head with a dizzying euphoria.
The words have the opposite effect on Antonio. He goes into a blind panic, renewing his fight. He flails against me, gripping my hands and pushing off the wall in a pathetic attempt to break free. Everything about him is pathetic.
Her dark eyes flash up at me, and she climbs out of bed and comes toward me. She’s a wildcat, stalking toward her prey. When she reaches the sniveling man in my grasp, she runs the back of her hand down his cheek.
“You are worth so much less than you think,” she says, her lips pinching at the end. “Isn’t that what you said to me? You must have been projecting because I’m clearly worth something to someone. Who has come to save you from this marriage, husband?”
He said that to her? My blood simmers to a boil. She’s worth so much more than he ever deserved. More than I deserve.
She looks at me. “Turn him toward me.”
I spin him around so that he faces her, then wrap my arm around his throat in a chokehold. She draws back her leg and knees him so hard in the nuts that I feel it in my own junk. Breath rushes from my lungs at the sheer force of the impact.
Her eyes meet mine again, and she gives me a quick nod. I don’t need much more than that to know what she expects next.
I tighten my grip on Antonio’s neck. Tighter. Tighter. I squeeze as he struggles against me, then he relaxes as the oxygen flees his brain. Though he’s relaxed, I don’t release him. I wait for that final push his body will make when he realizes the end is upon him.
The way a person fights when they stand at the precipice of death is something I can’t explain. Then it happens. He bucks against me, clawing my hands until he breaks off a nail in my skin. His legs kick and scramble for an escape he won’t find. Then they flail at nothing, slowing to weak jerks and jolts. Feeling his fight seep from his body is almost as euphoric as her homicidal words.
