Page 83 of Vows of Blood

Luca leans over me, one hand on either side of my head, as he eases lower and lower until his handsome face is mere inches from mine. His manly scent surrounds me, his clothed body looming over mine, deliciously strong and serious.

He traces a finger along my jaw, down my neck, and lower still, drawing a line along the valley between my breasts. “I’ve chosen the right woman. But maybe if you stop being a brat to test me, we could get on with enjoying each other.”

He rests one knee on the lounger, right between my parted thighs. I’m staring at his full mouth one second, waiting for his kiss, and the next, I’m listening to his footsteps retreat before the doors slam shut.

Alone now, I lie perfectly still, catching my breath and debating whether my book, well, his book really, is salvageable, but I can't relax, my nerves buzzing with unspent adrenaline.

The look on his face when he saw me touching Roman is etched into my mind. The raw possessiveness, the way he called me his wife, proudly, and made it clear nobody else was allowed to touch what’s his.

It absolutely should not turn me on.

Is that why I’m really so furious with him?

Not that he deleted my contacts, or because he's controlling and possessive and completely unreasonable, but because instead of plotting my escape, I’m lying here with my thighs pressed together and my pulse thrumming with want?

But I keep thinking about Sophia, about the smug certainty when she told me she'd be back in Luca's bed, my presence a mere temporary inconvenience.

I was jealous, but I didn’t take that out on him. Quite the opposite, in fact.

The unfairness of it burns through me, hot and bright, and before I know what I'm doing, I'm on my feet, throwing his unbuttoned shirt on as a cover-up, and marching toward the house. I find my way to his bedroom, ignoring the sound of running water and the steam curling into the main room, and march into the en-suite without knocking.

The bathroom is all marble and glass, and Luca stands in the massive walk-in shower, water sluicing down his broad back, with his head bowed under the spray. He hasn't heard me come in, or if he has, he's ignoring me.

I take a moment to look my fill.

God, he's beautiful. Uncomfortably, devastatingly beautiful. All that tanned skin stretched over hard muscle, the water tracing paths down his spine, over the curve of his ass, and down those powerful thighs. Remembering how it felt to have those arms around me, that body pressed against mine, my mouth goes dry.

"Are you going to stand there staring, or did you have something you wanted to say?" His words startle me. He hasn't turned around, hasn't even moved, but somehow, he knew I was here.

I step further into the bathroom, my bare feet silent on the heated floor. The closer I get, the better the view and the harder it is to stop moving forward. I wish the steam would clear and let me see him in all his glory.

"Sophia told me she'd be back in your bed before the vows dry. That your father will get rid of me and make you marry her."

That makes him turn. Water streams down his muscular chest, his mood dark and intense as he stands there like a statue. "Did she now?"

Resting one hand on the tiles in front of him, he lifts his head under the spray.

I refuse to let him see how much the memory still stings. "She made it very clear that in your world, an engagement meant nothing. That you could and would do whatever you wanted. And that you'd continue to sleep with her even after you married me."

Luca says nothing, just twists his head and watches me with those unfathomable eyes.

"I was jealous." The admission costs me, but I force it out anyway. "I hated hearing it. I hated the thought of you with her, or with anyone besides me. Worried that maybe your father can force you to change your mind. But I handled it, and I told you. And I certainly didn’t take it out on you, even if it played on some concerns I already have, made worse by you leaving without telling me last night."

I rest my fingers against the fogged glass.

"Sienna..."

"You don't get to lose your mind because I touched another man's knee while I control myself watching women throw themselves at you." I'm on a roll now, suddenly venting the anger and insecurity about how this will work that has been building up inside me. "You don’t get to do whatever you want, come and go as you please, letting me worry about where you are and if you’re okay, while I can’t even make friends with your staff."

He moves so fast I barely register it, flinging the door open, water dripping onto the marble floor, steam swirling around us. His hand grabs my wrist, hauling me inside on a squeal as he pins me to the tile wall.

“Luca!”

His fingers wrap around my throat, not squeezing, not hurting, just holding me still, anchoring me, centering me. His thumb presses against my pulse point, and I know he can feel how fast my heart is racing.

The water is still running, soaking through the shirt I’m wearing over my bikini, and plastering my hair to my shoulders, but I barely notice.

All I can see is him.