When she tries to close her legs, I force them open, then catch her gaze. “This was the deal, love.” I kiss the mound of her pussy. “This is mine now.”
She shivers, her body limp.
“All fucking mine.” I kiss her pussy again. It’s already an addiction, one I never want to end.
Crawling up her body, I lie next to her and look down at her angelic face. Her cheeks are pink, her lips swollen, and her eyes half-lidded. A sexy angel, right here for the taking.
I smooth the hair from her forehead and trail my fingers along her soft cheek. “Now, tell me why you can’t sleep. What about your ex is bothering you?” I try to keep my tone even. It’s not as if I’m asking her for information so I can find this man and flay him. Nothing like that.
“You look like you want to do murder.” She blinks.
“What? No.” I lean back a little, keeping my face in shadow. “I’m just curious is all.”
She sighs. “That wasn’t part of the deal.”
“No, but I want you to tell me anyway.” I place my hand at her throat, resting it there. I can’t seem to stop touching her.
“I might tell you …”
I stroke my thumb along her neck. “Might?”
“But you have to tell me something in return.”
“Another deal, then?”
“Looks like it, yeah.”
“Okay, deal. Now, tell me what—”
“Tell me why you want revenge.”
I close my eyes, not wanting to wade into that pile of garbage right now with her.
“Bruno?”
“I’m thinking.”
She makes a hmph sound.
“Tell me yours first, and then I’ll tell you mine.”
“You promise?” She gives me a sideways glance as I pull the blanket over her beautiful body.
“I promise.” I lean over and peer into her eyes. “And I’ll never lie to you, love. Never.”
She takes a deep breath. “Okay, fine. Here goes.”
8
Lovett
Bruno is trying to pretend to be calm, but somehow I can sense his irritation and anger over the mention of my ex. His hand rests on my throat gently; his thumb brushes back and forth. The roughness of his touch feels good against my skin.
Who am I kidding? Anytime he touches me it feels good. I’m not sure it’s something I’ll ever understand, because I should be cringing away from him, but I’m not. I begged him to touch me. I thought he would be gloating about it. He isn’t. He’s too focused on the reason why I’m not sleeping well.
“I met Brad at the police academy. I did my training in the city. He was actually one of my teachers,” I admit.
“You’re allowed to date your instructors?” There is no missing the judgment in his tone.
“Hey! You were in jail, and you kidnapped me. You're not some saint over there to pass judgment on other people.” I pull on the binds around my wrists to draw his attention there and to remind him he’s holding me captive. To my surprise, he reaches over and unties them both.
“Just didn’t take you as a rule breaker.” He starts to rub my wrists, checking them over.
“Oh.” The way Bruno talks sometimes makes it seem like he’s known me for a while. I guess he’s just really good at reading people. A skill set I wish I had for myself. I’ve always been way too trusting. “I’m not generally into breaking rules. That’s why when he showed up at my place, I told him we couldn’t date. He said he understood, so we became friends.”
“He didn’t want to be your friend, love.” He lifts my hand to his mouth, kissing my wrist.
“He did so. He started dating some other woman. He even introduced her to me.”
“No, he was trying to make you jealous so you’d change your mind and say you two could date.”
“I wasn't jealous. She was nice.”
Bruno smirks, shaking his head.
“Whatever.” I roll my eyes at him. “When I got done with my training, I applied to a few places and took the job in Stony Brook.”
“Let me guess. Brad and the new girlfriend broke up once he wasn’t your instructor anymore?” That little smirk is back again.
“People break up all the time.” I have no clue why I’m trying to defend him. Bruno is likely right.
“They were never together. He was biding his time, getting his rocks off while he waited.”
I scrunch my nose. “Men are gross. How can you want to be with one person and sleep with another?”
“No clue. Since I laid eyes on you, you're all I want. I’m not a man who settles for less than what he wants. You’re it for me.”
My breath catches. His words shouldn’t give me butterflies, but they do. “You’re a strangely sweet kidnapper.”
A bark of laughter comes from Bruno. “I don’t think anyone has ever called me sweet before, love.” A smile plays on his lips, making him more handsome than he already was. How is that even possible? “Go on,” he says, pulling me into his body so we’re cuddling with me wrapped in his arms. I know it shouldn’t, but this feels right.
“He started coming around a lot more to see me. I finally gave in, thinking maybe my feelings toward him would change and grow into something more. Everyone who meets him thinks he’s such a good guy and a sweetheart. He was always described as husband material.”
Bruno’s body stiffens. “He’s a predator.”
“You’d know better than anyone,” I toss back. I mean, it’s kind of true.
“I suppose, but typically women aren’t my prey.” His brows pull together as he stares at me like he’s looking for the reason he kidnapped me. I almost think I’m as confused as he is about all of this. “I also don’t pretend to be something I’m not. I don’t lie.”
I flinch at his words. Am I pretending to be something I’m not? Part of me thought if I tried to date Brad maybe some of those dark thoughts in my mind would fade away. They didn’t.
“It didn’t last long.”
“Why?” He pushes for more. I duck my head, suddenly feeling shy. I’m not sure why. A little while ago I was making deals with him and begging him to do things to my body, all while being his captive.
“I felt nothing. When he’d try to touch me, I’d tense up. The harder I tried, the worse it got. I would push him away every time.”
“Because he didn’t give you what you needed.” His hands slip down my stomach, cupping my sex. I don’t try to push him away. If anything, I try to get closer to him. My body melts under his touch. “You crave something darker. Something that only I can give to you.”
“Do you think that’s why he sought me out? He could see that?”
“No.”
I wait for him to say more, but he doesn't. I shouldn’t be lying here with him, telling him all my secrets. I should be running, trying to escape, fighting for my freedom. Then why do I feel so at home? Maybe he hit me on the head when he snatched me.
“He got angry when I tried to break things off. I didn’t see it coming.” I take a deep breath before I tell him the next part. “He got so mad that he hit me.”