Page 199 of Breaking Rosalind
His eyes glimmer with hope and maybe a little skepticism. He still doesn’t believe I don’t want to slice open his throat after everything he’s done, but sensory deprivation has made me crave his touch. He’s also given me several things I’ve always desired. A relationship with my daughter, a way out of the Moirai, and his respect.
I reach out a hand and beckon him closer with my fingers. “If you want forgiveness, then you’re going to come here and earn it.”
SEVENTY-NINE
CESARE
Is this a trick? Is this the moment she rips out my jugular in revenge for keeping her captive?
My gaze drops to Rosalind’s deceptively delicate fingers. Every fiber of my being wants to get close to her, but I would be insane to get in bed with a woman capable of killing a man with her bare hands. Especially so soon after she suffered a violent encounter.
I gaze into her face, noticing the subtle flecks of green and gold in her hazel eyes that give them such a mesmerizing depth. They’re raw, sad, and shimmer with unshed tears, making every fiber of my being burn with the need to soothe her pain.
My heart doesn’t just ache for Rosalind and everything she’s suffered. It bleeds.
“Cesare,” she says, her voice coaxing. “I won’t bite.
“It’s not your teeth that’s got me worried.”
“You think I’m going to lash out?”
“How else will you handle all that pent-up rage?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood.
Her hand drops to the mattress. “You can’t train me to crave your touch and then not give it when I’m feeling vulnerable. Take off that shirt and get into this bed.”
Guilt twists my gut and gnaws at my insides at the reminder. It’s worse because there’s also a part of me that surges with pride in having her need my touch.
Before I know it, I’m toeing off my shoes and sliding off my shirt, eager to comfort her. Rosalind scoots back, giving me space to slip under the sheets.
As soon as I’m in position, she rests her head on my shoulder and curls into my side. My heart swells as she nuzzles closer and slides her palm over my chest. I wrap an arm around her back and hold her close, reveling in the feel of her soft skin.
“Better,” she says with a long sigh.
I inhale the scent of her hair, the familiar mix of citrus and magnolia that soothes my senses. It’s a unique mix I only associate with my beautiful, dangerous Rosalind.
“This feels so nice,” she murmurs into my neck, her breath tickling my skin.
I couldn’t agree more, but nice is an understatement.
Holding her close like this, feeling her body relax against mine, it’s something I could savor for the rest of my life. But it’s a taste of heaven I haven’t earned, and Rosalind knows it, too. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to find the right combination of words to express my regret.
It’s not just regret. The more I know about this woman, the more I find to respect. To revere. I saw the mess she made of Dr. Daniel’s face. His nose was broken in at least two places. Although she was drugged, restrained, and in the throes of grief, she still fought back like a warrior.
I part my lips to speak, but my mind goes blank. What I did to Rosalind isn’t something that can be erased with a simple apology. I would spend every moment in my life trying to make amends, if only she wouldn’t leave.
She groans, and the first time I’ve ever heard her express pain.
“Are you alright, love?” I ask, my fingers threading through her hair.
“Cramps,” she says with a moan.
I stiffen, my brows furrowing. “Is that a side effect of the drugs?”
“More like a side effect of missing an appointment for my contraceptive shot.”
“How do you normally cope with them?” I place a kiss on her temple, wanting to take away her discomfort.
“The shot,” she mutters.