I bring my hand to my neck, trailing it down my breasts. Goosebumps are already forming on the bits of skin not touched by the warmth of the water, and the sensation only makes me clench my thighs together, heat traveling to my lower belly at the thought of him.
Beyond my admiration for his character, there's the undeniable attraction that simmers between us—and the fact that I know it's not one sided.
He makes me feel hot and bothered, his proximity awakening things inside of me I'd never thought possible—things I'd never dared to hope for.
I've read books and watched movies, all of them talking about the suffocating need for someone's touch and how the body comes alive under a lover's attentive gaze, becoming wet and needy and thoroughly out of control.
Before, I'd known the theoretical side of lust. Now…I know it intimately.
My hand trails even lower, my fingers brushing against that place that tingles with awareness.
My eyes snap shut as I feel a spear of pleasure burst through me. It only takes imagining him—those big, capable hands that have the power to bring me to immeasurable heights but also push me to unimaginable lows.
In my mind, I see the way his muscles cord and ripple, images of his naked torso making me gasp as I circle my clit, my mouth opening on a small o, yet no sound coming out.
But soon, my thoughts turn more outrageous. Suddenly, it's not just images of him that spur me further. It's of us.
I see him doing things to me—dirty, dirty things I'd never have the courage to utter out loud.
His hand on my ass, painting it red again, but this time, the sharp pain is followed by sweet pleasure and…
I gasp, my eyes flying open as I feel something mount inside of me. But just as I'm about to reach that place, the spell is broken and I scramble back in the tub, my eyes wide at realizing there's another person with me in the room.
"Don't stop on my account," he smirks at me, his arms crossed over his chest as he leans against the tiled bathroom wall.
It's then that I realize I'd never closed the door.
"What…" the words slip from my mouth. "What are you doing here?"
How long have you been sitting there?
"Enjoying the show, it seems." His mouth pulls into an even wider smile as his eyes rove over my naked flesh.
Immediately, I have the urge to cross my arms over my chest in an attempt to cover myself. But that would be exactly what he wants—to see me squirm.,
"I didn't realize you were a pervert, JK," I arch a brow, settling back in the tub and relaxing.
His eyes dip to the peaks of my breasts currently visible above the water before he catches himself, bringing his gaze back to my face.
"A pervert?" He intones, taking another step inside the bathroom as he looks around disinterestedly. "No, I'm not a pervert." He smiles wolfishly, stopping at the end of my tub.
Flexing his arms, he places his hands on either side of the tub as he leans down, bringing his face closer to me—close enough that I can see every play of emotion on it.
"I guess you forgot about the wedding night?" He inquires mockingly.
I grit my teeth at his question. Especially as I know he's doing it to get a rise out of me.
"Don't tell me you came here to do your husbandly duty," I reply, moving towards him.
Still in the tub, I switch my position so I can meet his gaze head on, my hands gripping the sides of the tub right where his are. Our fingers are close to touching, but not quite.
"What if I did?" he drawls, his breath fanning over my cheek.
His eyes hold a dangerous intensity as he forces himself to look at my face and not lower, and a smile pulls at my lips as I realize that he's having a hard time controlling himself.
Seconds trickle by as we engage in a silent battle of wills, neither willing to look away first.
"Ours isn't a real marriage, JK," I tell him sternly. "Or is a little pussy all it takes for you to forget your hate for me?" I ask suggestively, the corner of my mouth lifting in a derisive smile.
A twitch in his jaw lets me know my words have hit their mark. Still, he doesn't move.
So with a huff, I turn, making myself comfortable in the tub and promptly ignoring him.
"The door is over there. You can see yourself out," I say dismissively.
He's looming over me, rooted to the same spot. There's an inscrutable expression on his face as he looks at me—a deadly tension accompanied by unwanted lust. Because he probably desires me as much as he hates me.
And to my everlasting displeasure, it's a sentiment I return. I'm even more ashamed to admit that it wouldn't take too much coaxing to go to bed with him. If only he didn't hate me…
Annoyance spears through me at the direction of my thoughts. And seeing that he's not planning to move, I raise an eyebrow at him.
One second I see him turn, presumably to head towards the door. The next, I feel hands wrapped around my neck, the hold tight but not deadly.
His eyes gleam dangerously—dangerously numb. There's something scary about this side of him, and all amusement flies out of the window as a chill goes down my back.
"What…" the words are barely out of my mouth before I feel the water enveloping me. My eyes wide open, I watch in shock as he pushes me down, holding me pinned to the bottom of the tub.
It's pure instinct that reminds me to hold my breath so that the water doesn't force its way inside my nose and mouth.
I simply sit there, watching his blank expression as he holds me down— the intent to drown me clear.
For a moment, panic takes hold of me. Especially as his hands feel like an unbreakable chain around my neck—both literally and figuratively.
The thought of struggling crosses my mind, but I soon realize it would be in vain.
So I let him.
I sit there, calmly staring at him as I wait for my time to run out.
"Fuck," he curses out, taking a step back and bringing his fingers to his temples, massaging them.
The moment I'm able to draw breath again. I cough lightly, wiping at my mouth and nose as I try to regulate my breathing.
"Couldn't kill me, eh?" I taunt.
If I'm completely honest, there was a part of me that knew he would not kill me. That he wouldn't be able to go through with it.
"You…" His voice snaps as he turns around suddenly, one hand around my neck as he raises me up in the air, the force of his hold stunning me still.
My mouth opens in shock.
"One day, Y/n. One day," he mutters, as if trying to convince himself.
"One day what? You're going to actually kill me?" I smirk at him.
"Well, guess what," I say as I grab on to his sleeve, tugging him closer to me. "I'll be waiting. So do your worst."
He scowls, his face contorted in a mix of annoyance and want—to kill me or do something else, unclear.
His hold loosens enough that I fall back on my ass, the water making a splashing sound as droplets end up on the floor and on his shirt. Still, he doesn't release me.
His hand is still on my neck, his eyes glazed as he stares at me. Slowly, he moves it, reaching my jaw. His thumb on my lips, he brushes it lightly over them before parting them.
"One day, Y/n," he repeats, his features stern, his lips unsmiling, "I will fuck the brat out of you. I'll make it so that you won't ever talk back," he sneers, pushing his thumb into my mouth.
I can only look at him in awe, outrage and lust mixing low in my belly at his words.
"Is that so?" I ask on a breathless tone.
I reach out, grabbing his hand with my own, keeping him locked in place as my tongue peeks out to lick his thumb before sucking it deep into my mouth.
There's a brief flash in his eyes as he zeroes in on my lips, his pupils growing larger under my very gaze. His attention momentarily distracted, it's all it takes for me to bring my teeth down on his thumb.
But he doesn't react. He merely tilts his head in amusement, watching me as one would watch a child throwing a tantrum—indulging me in my little display.
Irritated, I feel the need to get a rise out of him, so I casually inquire. "Who are you trying to fool, JK? Shall I remind you of your words?" I raise a daring eyebrow. "I am the last woman you'd ever fuck," I lean forward, whispering his vehement statement from before.
There's a pause as he doesn't react, his eyes narrowed at me. "You're playing with fire, Y/n," he grunts low in his throat.
"Me?" I bat my lashes at him. "I'm not the one spying on my unsuspecting spouse while they are bathing. Or wait," I chuckle. "Don't tell me that's one of your kinks. Besides choking, since we've ascertained you have a thing for that," I mock, satisfied when my jibe hits its mark as I watch his hands ball into fists, his lip twitching in annoyance.
But just as it appears, it's gone.
He leans back, wholly relaxed, as he gives me a bored look.
"Maybe it is," he shrugs. "Can you blame me for wanting to sample the goods? After all, I did pay a small fortune for you."
"You…" I take a deep breath, knowing his game is to rile me up. Instead, I try to calm myself down as I continue my brave act. "What do you say then? Do I pass?" I ask in a saccharine tone, peering at him from beneath my lashes.
"Hmm," he takes a step back. "Undecided. I think I need to see more," he drawls, this time letting his eyes greedily roam over my flesh.
In a gesture of unprecedented courage, I simply rise from the bath. The water clings to my skin as I get up, droplets gliding over the planes of my body and emphasizing the curve of my breasts, my waist, and lower.
Placing my feet on the floor, I stand up to my full height, my entire body naked and bare for his assessing gaze.
His eyes widen briefly, before his features darken as he takes me in.
"What about now?" I take a step towards him. "Do you regret your purchase yet?" I ask sarcastically.
Because I know exactly what he's seeing—and it's not pretty.
Scars run down the front and back of my body, concentrated heavily around my stomach and lower back area.
He gulps down as he looks at me, his expression indecipherable.
My courage, though, extends only for so long, so I turn on my heel, intent on putting my robe on and getting the hell out of here.
The heat of his presence and the deep burn of my mortification are enough to send me flying out of the bathroom. But I can't do that. I can't show him how affected I am by his nearness, or how self-conscious I feel about my appearance.
So I straighten my back and put on a confident look as I move to exit the room.
I don't get to take one step though, as he wraps his fingers around my elbow, pulling me backwards and making me stumble as I crash into his hard chest.
"What's this?" he asks in a harsh voice, his eyes narrowed at me, his muscles spasming with unreleased tension.
"What's what?" I feign ignorance, though I know exactly what he's referring to.
"This," he says just as his other hand makes contact with my skin, his fingers brushing against the area right under my rib cage and going lower, leaving in their wake a scorching trail of fire.
My breath hitches at the first contact, but I mask my reaction as I try to put on a strong front. Especially as he spreads his palm over my stomach— over that place that's been hideously scarred.
"Nothing," I shrug.
"Y/n," his voice vibrates in the air, the threat unmistakable.
"It's nothing," I reiterate confidently. "Because it can't be anything if I've never been a victim, right?" I throw his words in his face, satisfaction blooming inside of me when he visibly flinches.
"Tell me," he barks the order as if I were one of his minions, ready to comply with his every command.
"No," I simply reply, looking him in the eye. "You don't get to make demands of me. Not with this. And certainly not now, after you've repeatedly thrown my past in my face."
"These are cigarette burns, Y/n. Who did this to you?" His tone turns softer, just as his features start to lose some of the previous tension.
"It doesn't matter now, does it?" I whisper, blinking back tears. "You can still get an annulment, you know. It's not too late," I give him a sad smile.
"Who did this to you?" He grits out, his hold tightening over my arm. A low chuckle erupts from my throat.
"Are you asking because you don't know?" I raise my eyes to his, letting him see the pain and humiliation that resides there. But most of all, I want him to see the hopelessness—of the past, present, and future.
He blinks, as if he wasn't expecting such honesty in my expression.
"Danilo," he states, the name hitting me in the chest like a bullet. Yet, now the pain is just a dull ache—numbed by the passage of time and the knowledge that he can't harm me from the grave.
"Congratulations," I retort mockingly. "Do you want a prize for your correct guess?"
"Why? Why would he do something like this to you? You were his fiancée."
There's a certain confidence in his voice, as if he's told himself this version of events so many times that he is infinitely sure of it.
"Fiancée," I give a dry laugh. "Sure. I was his fiancée. But that didn't get me any special treatment. In fact…" I trail off as I wrench myself from his grasp, turning around so my back is fully visible to him. "This is the only special treatment I got," I say as I present him with the worst of my scars.
On my lower back, lines upon lines of red bumps cover my skin—all caused by belts, canes and anything he would find that would inflict most damage.
"What… how…" the words are barely above a whisper, but I hear them, nonetheless.
"I feel sorry for you, JK," I tell him with a sigh, turning to see his ashen face. He's gazing at me as if he's never seen me before, and I don't know why that sight has the ability to break my heart. "You have such a warped version of the truth, that you simply can't see beyond your resentment and your hate." I pause, and I note a flicker of emotion in his eyes. "I admit there were times when I behaved like the worst version of myself at the hacienda. But none were of my own volition," I tell him, taking his hand and bringing it to my thigh.
"Do you feel this?" I ask, brushing his fingers against a faded mark. He gives a brisk nod.
"One time, I said something wrong in public. We were at a dinner party, and I made a mistake," I take a deep breath as the memories slowly trickle in, the pain almost fresh in my mind. "He stabbed me under the table with a fork, and he told me that if I dared make a sound, he would pass me around to his ranch hands. I felt the pain to my soul, but I didn't make a sound. The blood was flowing out of me, but my smile didn't falter."
His brows furrow, and there's a hint of emotion on his face as he gazes at me. Yet I don't want his pity. That is the last thing I'd ever want.
"So you see, the truth isn't yours, or mine, JK. It's somewhere in the middle. You have your trauma and I have mine. But just because you have limited knowledge of mine doesn't mean you can deny it exists."
"Y/n…" he starts, but I place a finger on his lips, shushing him.
"My entire family thinks I'm crazy, and that I'm exaggerating for attention," I laugh sardonically. "Everyone thinks I'm crazy, so frankly," I shake my head at him. "I don't care what you think of me anymore. I just ask that you leave me alone," my voice breaks as I utter a last "please."
Before he can reply, before he can say something and irrevocably break my heart, I dash out of the room. I don't even stop to don my robe as I run out of the master suite and lock myself inside an empty room.