the pain. Her face had softened and a flush kissed her cheeks. Her breathing had evened out and her body melted against me.
Had we not had an audience and I’d had her full consent, I would have taken her right there against the bathroom wall. But as dark as some of my kink got, I did nothing with women who had not fully, consciously consented to everything. My interview process made hiring for Fortune 500 look like an HR marathon. And that was just for my casual sexual partners. It said nothing of long-term subs like Synra.
That process was going to get an overhaul to get Willow in my bed. I looked down at her again. The sundress she wore gave her an air of innocence that I was forced to acknowledge.
“Feeling better?” I asked her.
She nodded. “You can let me go now.” She patted my chest.
I snorted. “I’ll let you go when I want to, cupcake.”
She glared up at me. “No. You’ll let me go when I want you to. It’s my body. I make the decisions about it.” She drilled her finger into my breastbone.
My brows popped up. “Is that so?”
She nodded.
I let her go.
Her legs buckled.
I caught her before she dropped to the floor. “I wasn’t saying that because I’m an asshole—although, I am. I was saying it because your body isn’t ready to hold you up yet.”
She glared at me again. “Then you should have just said that. Don’t play games with me, Ryker.”
I nodded. “I’ll remember that.” She flirted like a professional, but she had very firm, non-negotiable lines on where the fun ended. I’d have to remember that or I’d alienate her.
That wasn’t something I was willing to do until I’d had my fill of her. Once I was done, she could trundle off to whatever life she had. But I would have her under me in the near future.
“Ready to try moving again?” I asked her. I winced. “I had to grind my knee into your bruise, so it might actually be a little worse now.”
She petted a hand down my chest. Her gaze was soft. I don’t think she was even aware that she was touching me. Not really. “I needed it. I can deal with the fallout.”
I nodded, shifted my grip on her. Turned us both towards her bedroom. Something about it soothed me. I feel like I had to slow down to inspect it. To ferret out all of its secrets. Just like I was going to do to its owner.
“Well, then let's go find those men you’ve hooked yourself to.” I started us off at a snail’s pace.
She laughed softly as she got a death grip on my hand. “They’re really not so bad, you know. I think you’d even like them.”
I snorted. “New Trenadie’s version of mafia and you say they’re not so bad?”
She shrugged. “They aren’t as bad as the NYC Italians if the stories I’ve heard are true.”
We made it to the living room. Rafe was slumped forward on the couch, his head resting in his hands. He was muttering to himself. I hoped he was kicking his own ass mentally. Man should be shot for letting Willow suffer like that.
“Rafe?” Willow called softly.
His head jerked up. Stress and grief showed in his dark eyes. He launched himself over the coffee table. Scooped her up into his arms.
I curled my hands into fists to keep from jerking her back against me. I glared at the youngest Amatucci. Get used to it now, fucker. She’s going to be mine. And then its hands fucking off until I’m done with her.
He took her back to the couch and put her deep into the corner. He curled around the outer edge of the sofa, a barricade against the world. Against me.
Bastard.
They spoke to each other in low tones. At one point, Rafe lowered his head to her shoulder. I couldn’t tell if he was crying or not, but I heard Willow’s sniffles as I watched her hands come up his back. She petted him like he was an overgrown cat.
I turned away from the loving scene. Love, of any flavor, just gave someone else leverage to get what they wanted. No one ever stayed. They either left physically or checked out mentally. Everyone had their limit to the soft and cuddly.
I’d already reached mine.
I grabbed up my suit coat and briefcase. “Call me when you hear from Wright,” I said to Domenico as I headed for the door. I