Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 93347 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93347 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
His thighs brushed the backs of mine as he briefly lowered, and then he thrust to the hilt inside of me.
I opened my palms wide and pressed them against the warm marble as my body rocked forward with the force of his thrusts.
I’d been right.
Sebastian Diamanti didn’t have sex or make love.
He fucked.
“Pull out,” I reminded him. “I’m not on birth control.”
I stopped renewing the prescription when I hit a twelve-month dry spell. That was two years ago.
Pressing his front to my back, he wrapped his arms around me and cupped my breasts. “Questo è proprio il punto, bella.”
Oh God. Something told me he hadn’t just gracefully agreed to pull out like a gentleman.
“Sebastian? What did you just—”
He leaned back and spanked my ass. “Say my name again.”
When I didn’t immediately comply, he spanked the other ass cheek. My wet skin made the burn that much more intense, increasing the taboo pleasure of it all.
I wasn’t his lover.
I was his conquest.
His possession.
When I screamed his name, he answered with a growl, spilling into me like he’d won.
And in the silence after, a cold truth settled deep in my bones:
Even with all my protests…I’d walked straight into his trap.
CHAPTER 15
SABRINA
Left alone, I wrapped my arms around my knees and curled into a ball on the tile floor.
As the hot water continued to rain down on me, I tried to come to terms with what had just happened.
How was it possible to feel both alive and yet dead inside?
That had been the most bone-jarringly intense sexual experience of my entire life.
The man fucked with what could only be called primal energy. The way he just arrogantly manhandled and dominated me into submission was…
I didn’t know what it was…but I’d definitely never been treated like that before. He had managed to both worship me and humiliate me all at once.
I’d been shattered into a million pieces, put together, and then shattered again.
I tightened my arms around my knees as I tilted my head back to let the water stream over my face.
He was inside of me right now.
Admittedly, the sum total of my sexual experience until this point had been extremely limited by most standards. Only a good-natured but inept high school boyfriend and a rather selfish college one. Neither of whom had ever come inside of me. I’d always been careful about condoms.
Oh God, we didn’t use a condom.
I stretched my legs out and ran a hand over my belly.
Bearing Sebastian Diamanti’s child would be like getting knocked up by freaking Zeus. Those Greek myths never seemed to end well for the poor mortal woman.
I had to leave before this man consumed me entirely.
I knew my limitations. I wasn’t one of those savvy women who could turn this connection into a career-launching opportunity. I needed to remember—I was Michael Corleone’s dead first wife. Not all women were the heroines of their own epic stories.
God, I hated being this way. I hated the truth of it.
I rested my chin on my knees. There was no denying it was my mother’s influence. Always telling me to blend in, to not make waves, to trust no one.
Everyone had their own childhood trauma. Mine was a mother who raised me to fear the world.
While others were taught to reach for the moon and stars…I was taught to be content with the rocks at my feet. My first step toward freedom was supposed to be defying my mother and coming to Europe.
Instead, I was falling deeper into someone else’s control. Sebastian Diamanti would take me from baby steps to straight off a cliff.
There was no point in hiding in the bathroom all morning. It was silly to assume he harbored some fascination bordering on obsession for me. I wasn’t that interesting of a person to inspire such fixed devotion.
After brushing the water from my eyes, I rose and turned off the shower.
And that was when I realized he had taken what little clothes I still had when he left.
* * *
I stepped onto the suite balcony, hugging the lapels of the plush, Shangri-La white terrycloth robe against my throat.
It was the most magnificent view of the Eiffel Tower I’d ever seen. The sun was just rising, throwing the structure into silhouette against a bright winter morning sky filled with muted blues and blood-orange reds. The hotel room was far enough and high enough to showcase a view of all of Paris.
I couldn't believe, after all that had just happened, that it was still barely morning.
“Hello, beautiful.”
I turned.
Sebastian sat in a black wicker bucket chair behind an elegant table. Like me, he wore one of the hotel robes. He folded the Italian newspaper he was reading and rose.
My heart skipped a beat as he neared.
Even in a robe, bare feet, and with wet hair, he still radiated power.
He tilted my head up. “Say my name.”