Even when I shifted to free her from the tie, she remained dazed. I brushed my thumbs over the thick red rings around her wrists, drawing another delectable shiver from her.
Without thinking, I lifted them to my lips and kissed the marks. They would fade in a few hours, but I’d make sure to freshen them again before long. Marisol might hate me, but she’d opened her body to me, and there was no going back.
The last of my pleasant haze evaporated at the memory of her hatred. Despite the harsh twist of my lips and my grinding teeth, I continued to handle her carefully as I lifted her up in my arms.
Her eyes were still slightly glassy, and she melted against my chest.
I’d only taken three steps towards the house when her small hand cupped my cheek, her thumb tracing the line of my scowl. She lingered over my scar, and the unfamiliar sensation sent a strange ripple through my muscles. No one touched me with such tenderness, especially not on the scars that warned of my vicious nature. In the past, women had been drawn to my darkness, my savagery. But they didn’t caress the marks of violence that’d been etched into my skin.
An image of Marisol’s delicate hands tracing the scars on other parts of my body sent another shudder through my chest. It rolled down my arms, and I tightened my grip on her to counter the strange weakness.
“I don’t hate you,” she murmured, rubbing my scar.
The resultant tremor in my muscles persisted, and I realized she was keeping me trapped in a disconcertingly vulnerable headspace.
I jerked my head to the side, shaking off her traitorous touch. “Don’t lie to me.” My harsh rebuke was roughened by a twisting pain beneath my ribcage.
“I’m not lying.” She pressed her palm against my cheek.
Even though she was so frail in my arms, the gentle touch redirected my face to hers with irresistible force.
I glowered down into her doe eyes, resenting the fact that she was still trying to manipulate me. Even more, I hated the fact that I wanted to believe her.
“You tried to escape from me as soon as my back was turned. You betrayed me to Daniel and left me for dead. Give me one good reason why I should believe you.”
She flinched at the mention of her betrayal, her eyes tightening with something like anguish.
I knew I should’ve looked away. I should’ve shut her out before she could wheedle her way back into my mind.
But that resolute hand on my cheek kept me locked in her rich brown eyes; as warm and sweet as melted chocolate. And just as tempting.
“I didn’t try to leave because I hate you. I…I care about you.” Despite stumbling over her words, her steady stare willed me to believe her. “But it scares me that you’re so possessive. It frightens me that you won’t allow me to leave. I don’t want to be a prisoner anymore. I want to be free.”
Her voice shrank as she made each admission, ending on little more than a whisper. Her gaze turned inward, no longer focusing on my face.
My stomach twisted, and I cradled her closer to my chest.
This can’t be a deception. I don’t want it to be a lie.
I wanted her sweetness, her concern, her vulnerability.
She’s been hurt, I reminded myself.
I needed to understand the details of what she’d been through that’d traumatized her so deeply, but I didn’t need to know them for her reaction to make sense. I’d already come to the realization that she would need some time to settle with me, but when I’d seen her on my security feed, I’d lost my mind with rage.
Even if I had forgiven her for betraying me to Daniel, I was obviously more affected by it than I would’ve liked to admit to myself.
Fuck. I’d behaved like a savage, hunting her down like an animal and pinning her in the dirt.
My spine straightened, and I hardened my resolve. I’d promised consequences if she tried to run again, and I’d followed through. Marisol needed a firm hand to help her adjust to her new life with me.
I didn’t regret punishing her. I didn’t regret branding her flesh with my punitive hand. I didn’t regret making her whimper into my mouth and scream out in pleasure when I forced an orgasm from her bound body.
A sense of calm settled over me. Marisol was right where she belonged, and she’d learn to love being my prey.
“I’m possessive because I know that other men will try to claim you if you’re alone and vulnerable. I won’t let you leave because my walls keep you safe.”
I brushed my fingers through her hair, and my callouses scraped over a small twig that was tangled in the black, silky locks. The lingering evidence of her subjugation centered me even more, and I spoke in an even, reassuring cadence. My lost little lamb would listen to reason if I didn’t spook her.
“You don’t have to be my prisoner, if you accept that the barriers are in place to keep others out. I can tell you’ve been through a lot, and you’ve been on this reckless journey all alone for a long time. You’ve survived by pushing forward, no matter the cost.”
She would tell me more about what she’d been through later, but now wasn’t the time to delve into her trauma. I needed her full attention on me.
“I’ll understand if it takes you a while to settle in here and to accept that you no longer need to fight for survival every second of every day.” My hand hooked beneath her jaw, anchoring her in my steady gaze. “My possessiveness and refusal to allow you to leave aren’t something you should fear. There’s nothing for you to be afraid of anymore. As long as you’re with me, you’re safe.”
Before she could protest, I continued on in a harder tone. “And no, I’m not giving you a choice until your mind clears from whatever trauma you’ve been through. I’ll protect you from anything that might threaten you, and that includes yourself. I won’t apologize for it. The matter is no longer open for discussion. Do you understand?”
I kept her fixed in my unyielding stare until she swallowed hard and nodded. The nonverbal response satisfied me. I didn’t want to hear another word about her desire for freedom or her fear of my possessiveness.
Marisol would not fear me. I wouldn’t let her.
Chapter 14
Marisol
My hand hovered over the doorknob, but I hesitated to leave Raúl’s bedroom. He’d given me some space to shower and put on a fresh dress—one that he hadn’t ripped apart with his bare hands.
An echo of the fabric tearing teased through my mind, and my nipples pebbled, as though he’d exposed my breasts to his demanding, rough hands once again.
My teeth sank into my lower lip. After his vicious attack in the woods, I should’ve been terrified to face Raúl. He’d spanked me, bound me, stripped me naked, and come on my helpless body.
While I screamed in ecstasy and shamelessly thrust my pussy into his possessive grip.
My cheeks burned, mirroring the lingering burn on the backs of my thighs and my ass. His huge palm had spanked me hard enough to brand my flesh, but my core throbbed in time with my heartbeat.
What we’d done in the dirt—reduced to base, animal lust—had been wrong. Normal, respectable women didn’t orgasm when a man utterly dominated and subjugated them. But when he’d manhandled me into position and punished me, he’d tapped into my darkest desires; the very thing I’d feared most.