Chapter 75 75
Her breathing was uneven, her chest rising and falling too fast, too shallow.
She watched in stunned silence as he lifted his fingers still slick with her and brought them to his mouth, licking them clean without breaking eye contact. Heat flooded her face instantly, a deep crimson spreading across her cheeks and the tips of her ears.
This man was going to kill her.
“I love watching you squirm when I make you come,” he murmured, his voice rough and husky with sleep, with morning, with her.
Her heart stuttered wildly inside her ribcage.
She couldn’t speak. Lust still clouded her thoughts, desire humming beneath her skin, aching and relentless. She wanted him wanted him desperately but her mind fought her heart, holding it back with trembling restraint.
She was at war with herself.
Sofía yanked her dress down hastily. His deep, throaty chuckle followed, catching her completely off guard. The sound of it low and rich only made him look unbearably attractive.
She was losing her sanity.
He was doing this on purpose. Twisting her thoughts. Playing with her head.
Rising from the bed, he stretched lazily. “Care to join me for a shower?” he asked.
Her reaction was immediate blue eyes widening as she shook her head furiously. His lips curved into a knowing smirk.
That smirk made her lightheaded. His gaze alone made her skin heat and her pulse race.
He was casting some kind of spell over her. She was sure of it.
When the bathroom door finally shut behind him, she sucked in a deep breath, realizing only then that she’d been holding it the entire time.
Her legs were weak jelly as she hurried toward the wardrobe. She needed to get out of this dress. Desperately. The problem was… she didn’t own any clothes here.
A startled gasp escaped her when she opened the left side of the wardrobe.
It was filled with women’s clothing.
New. Designer labels. Everything from soft loungewear to breathtaking dresses. A full rack of shoes heels, flats, sneakers, sandals lined neatly beneath.
She opened a drawer and froze.
Lingerie.
Panties. Bras. Undergarments so delicate and erotic her fingers trembled. Every single piece was her size though the bras were slightly smaller than what she actually needed.
Another drawer revealed jewelry. Expensive. Dazzling. Diamonds, without a doubt.
She stood there, stunned beyond words.
The right side held his clothes everything perfectly arranged.
Her mind struggled to process it all as she quickly grabbed a loose shirt and a pair of sweats. She pulled the sweats on immediately, relief washing through her once she was free of that dress.
She lifted the shirt
And froze.
Someone was standing directly behind her.
Her grip tightened on the fabric as she pressed it to her chest, too afraid to turn around. She didn’t need to. She knew.
A cold shiver tore down her spine when his wet, solid chest brushed against her back.
His hand cold from the shower settled on her waist.
She shuddered.
Her breathing quickened as she tried to pull the shirt on. She was only in her bra and sweats now, exposed and vulnerable but before she could move, he grabbed the shirt and tugged.
Fear flooded her.
This time, it wasn’t desire. It wasn’t heat.
It was terror.
He would see her scar.
That was the only thought screaming in her head.
He pulled again. She refused to let go.
“P-please,” she whispered, stepping away instinctively
Only to be dragged back when his arm wrapped around her waist, slamming her flush against his chest.
She gasped as sparks tore through her.
“Don’t test me, Ana,” he rasped near her ear. “I’m losing control.”
He bit her ear.
A whimper slipped from her before she could stop it.
His free hand shot up, gripping her left breast roughly. She jolted and gasped at once and in that split second of distraction, he yanked the shirt free from her hands.
It was gone.
He tossed it aside and spun her around sharply.
He had been desperate to see her those soft, perfect curves but nothing could have prepared him for what greeted his eyes.
Three brutal claw marks.
They started at her ribs and tore downward, disappearing beneath the waistband of her sweats.
For the first time in his life…
He didn’t move.
He didn’t speak.
He was frozen.
Slowly, he reached for her sweats and pulled them down just enough to see where the scars ended curving cruelly along the side of her hips.
She stood before him in nothing but her undergarments.
Trembling.
Barely breathing.
His fingers brushed the scar.
Fear exploded through her body.
Tears slid silently down her cheeks as he dropped to one knee in front of her.
His eyes flickered gold to green, green to gold shifting uncontrollably.
When his gaze snapped back up to her face, the darkness there terrified her.
He’s disgusted.
The thought crushed her.
He thinks I’m ugly.
He’ll hate me.
Her head grew unbearably heavy. Black spots crowded her vision as the world began to tilt.
Her thoughts unraveled.
She was falling.
Falling deeper and deeper into darkness.
It felt as though her soul every fragment of happiness she’d ever known was slipping through her fingers, and she was powerless to stop it.
She was drowning.
Submerged in a sea of shadows and sorrow, fighting desperately to stay afloat, only to inhale the bitter water as her body jerked in panic.
Her skin drained of color. Her lungs betrayed her.
No matter how hard she tried to breathe. No matter how hard she tried to stay strong.
The darkness won.
It wrapped around her completely, dragging her back into the loop of her worst memories.
And then
She was gone.
She fainted.