Page 168 of Breaking Rosalind
Her eyes narrow. “What do you mean?”
“She said I was perfect for you, the woman who killed her parents.”
Rosalind’s lips part with a protest, but I add, “She knows I’m a villain because she read about me online. Whatever she found made her think I’m a match for her murderous big sister.”
Her ferocious scowl is proof that I’ve broken through her stoic barrier. “There it is,” I say, my voice breathy with awe. “You only show your true emotions with people you love, like Miranda. And me.”
“You’re delusional.” She ducks out from under my arms and walks around the bed to the shag pile rug. “If you insist on keeping me in the room, I’ll sleep in front of the fire.”
“What if she comes in during the middle of the night?”
“She won’t.”
“What if she has another nightmare?”
Rosalind turns around, her eyes widening. “What are you talking about?”
“She remembers the day you took her so vividly because it replays in her dreams.” I cross the room, closing the distance between us.
Face paling, her body goes rigid, and her eyes search mine. “You’re lying.”
“I’m only repeating what I heard. Did you ever get her therapy?”
Her posture deflates, and she bows her head, answering with a broken whisper. “I thought...” She shudders. “Miranda was so young. I thought that over time, she would forget.”
“Tell her,” I say. “If she sees that day as a rescue rather than an abduction…”
“I will.” She nods as though trying to convince herself. “Soon.”
“Come to bed, pet. Let’s put aside our differences until we’ve settled Miranda into her new school. Afterward, you can go back to wanting me dead.”
She huffs a bitter laugh, her gaze flickering between me and the canopied bed. Toeing off my shoes and socks, I keep my features even, and force my lips not to smirk.
My intentions toward Miranda are wholesome. I want her safe, happy, and well-adjusted. It’s my intentions toward Rosalind that are far from innocent.
I want to break through the rest of her outer shell and reach her inner core. I want to peel away her armor, layer by silken layer, until she’s vulnerable and raw. I want to revel in her submission, her strength. I want to bask in the surrender of her spirit.
Rosalind belongs to me, and I will stop at nothing to make her mine.
Keeping my gaze fixed on hers, I unbutton my shirt, making sure to take my sweet time. She pretends to hate my guts, but she loves my body. Her eyes drop to my exposed chest the way they always do whenever I undress.
She can’t help herself. No matter how much she pretends not to be affected, I’m a source of endless fascination. Rosalind can’t get enough of my tattoos. She’s mesmerized by the way the ink shifts with my movements.
“We’re meeting the headmistress first thing tomorrow.” I deepen my voice, adding an edge of command. “After that, we’ll plot the downfall of the Moirai. That’s not something you can do when deprived of sleep.”
When her tongue darts out to lick her lips, I bite back a groan. How the hell can one woman be so tempting?
“Alright,” she says. “I’ll get into bed with you, but there will be no touching.”
“I can’t make any promises.” I unbuckle my belt, and the clink of metal has her gaze dropping to my silk-covered erection.
Her lips tighten with disapproval. “And you’re going to wear pajamas.”
“I sleep naked,” I say with a grin.
Her gaze snaps to meet mine, her scowl barely concealing her arousal. “Keep the boxers.”
“Fine.” I drop my pants, step out of the puddle of fabric and walk to the mattress.