Page 60 of Wicked Roses

I get why she’s pissed, though I don’t agree. She was seeking to regain control by doing something alone. Taking matters into her own hands is therapeutic for her.

That doesn’t make it any less dangerous. Or me less enraged she’d take such a dumb risk.

Another moment passes and our erratic breaths calm down. I release her wrists. She drops her arms to her sides and glares at the floor.

“Why couldn’t you just... stay away? You swore you would,” she says, her voice strained.

I never stayed away. You just thought I did.

“I’ll give you your space once we catch whoever attacked you.”

“Don’t bullshit me. You reappearing in my life has been some power play. That’s all you care about. Taking over my life. Pretending to care. Getting to control me again.”

I scowl. “None of this is pretend, Phi.”

The thread I’ve been hanging on by is about to snap. I’ve been a gentleman. I’ve been respectful. She should count her lucky stars I haven’t taken advantage when I easily could’ve on multiple occasions.

I plant a hand on the wall beside her head and lean closer. My gaze studies her face, the features I know so well—her dark almond-shaped eyes and supple heart-shaped lips and the small, round nose that centers her face. She has a beauty mark on the lower lefthand side of her jaw. Every last detail comes together to make Delphine the beautiful woman she is.

Mine.

Mine.

MINE.

“What are you doing?” she asks as I loom closer. Her lips part, watching me watch her. “Let me go, Salvatore. I’m done with your mind games.”

“Who says I’m playing mind games?”

She swallows almost audibly. “Whatever... whatever this is, it’s not about us. It’s not about you wanting me. It’s about whatever ulterior motive you have.”

Wrong. Almost everything I do is about you.

I lean in, my body fully trapping hers against the wall, and I don’t bother hiding the fact that my breathing goes ragged. I’m drawing in a deep inhale of her. My head dips low so I can indulge in the pulse point at her neck.

From there I let my lips ghost across her jaw—the little beauty mark I mentioned earlier and have perfectly memorized—and I skim my way up to her ear. She’s gone still, unsure of how to react.

She really doesn’t get it. So smart yet so in denial.

I’ve deprived myself for many years. For over a decade. She has no fucking clue. She has the audacity to be indignant and complain. Theaudacityto exist in my world, in my god damn loft in her tiny robe with her soft brown eyes and softer brown skin, and she doesn’t even realize I’ve wanted her every single moment.

“If you had any idea... how much I want you,” I whisper in her ear. “You couldn’t handle it.”

My eyes close as I savor the scent of her. For twelve long years I had to go without. Just the remnants of her on mementos I had collected from our time together.

Now I have her all to myself. Even with the smell of the rain all over us, I can pick up on the distinct notes of her scent.

Light and feminine in the most intoxicating way.

I’ve jerked off to this scent countless times...

An obsessed psycho like me, I become a dog interacting with his favorite chew toy.

“Salvatore,” she breathes.

“Phi, tell me what you want from me.”

“I’ve told you. I want you to go. I want you to leave me alone.”