Violent Triumphs (White Monarch 3)

He cupped the back of my head and pressed his lips to my forehead. “I’m not scared to fall in love,” he said against my skin. “If anything, I’m scared not to. Your parents set high standards for what a true partnership looks like, but I don’t back down from a challenge.”

All bandaged up, but not yet healed, he lay back against the pillow and let his eyelids fall shut.

It wasn’t the first time Cristiano had referenced my parents’ marriage and their love for each other. It was the everything he’d been seeking. It had to be. That would answer many of the questions that had surrounded him from the start.

I let my eyes drift over my strong, menacing, yet achingly vulnerable husband. He was right. With me by his side, we’d be a force to be reckoned with.

We?

Weeks ago, it might’ve surprised me that I’d want that, but I didn’t think it would’ve ever truly shocked me. It was why I’d fought all of this so hard.

It felt entirely and alarmingly natural to stay, put on my crown, and descend deeper into the darkness with Cristiano.

But that didn’t mean I had any idea what I’d find once everything went black.

10

Natalia

Flat on my back on the front lawn, I struggled to breathe under Cristiano’s considerable weight and brawn. He pinned my wrists over my head in the grass, and with speed a man of his size shouldn’t possess, he maneuvered his hips between my legs, wedged his thighs beneath mine, and spread them.

“You’re helpless against me, Mrs. de la Rosa,” he said with an infuriatingly smug smirk.

I bucked my hips as hard as I could, knowing it would do no good.

“Third time this morning—and I’m injured. Have the last several weeks of training been for nothing?”

Between my shorts and his joggers, only thin fabric separated us. “I fought off a real attacker. It’s just you who’s too strong for me.”

“What have I told you? A limited mindset will always be your greatest liability.” He bent until his face hovered over mine, and his eyes dropped to my mouth. “Once you defeat me, then you’ll know you can take on anyone.”

I licked my lips to see if I could keep his gaze there. “Cristiano?”

“Hmm?”

The thing about lightweight workout gear designed to fit like a second skin was that it didn’t leave much to the imagination. Cristiano had too much happening down south to hide anything. Even when he wasn’t hard, I could feel him between my legs, but now, something stirred. “I think you’re the one with the wrong . . . mindset.”

“Yeah?” he asked.

I shifted my hips, teasing him with a warm home for the thick, ridged monster rising between us. Reminding him that with the baggy openings of my running shorts, he could unfasten, tug, shift, and be inside me in seconds.

His grip loosened as he inhaled. “Yeah,” I said.

Flattening my foot against his thigh and using the advice he constantly repeated to me, I put my weight behind my shoulder, pushed off his leg, and rolled out from under him.

“Oof.” He flopped onto his back, clutching his abdomen.

I jumped up to straddle him, careful not to sit near his wounds. “Sorry, but I win,” I said, smiling down at him. “Did I hurt you?”

“Nothing a few new stitches won’t fix.”

As I leaned forward, my ponytail hung over my shoulder, the ends brushing his chest. “You left yourself open.”

“I did.” He seized my biceps, yanking me down until our bodies were flush—and I was back under his control. “But, no, you didn’t win. The fight is never over.”

His heart pounded against my breasts—or maybe it was mine. Either way, our breath mingled, and our eyes searched each other’s faces. In the weeks since we’d kissed, the electricity between us hadn’t dimmed. Just the opposite—it’d become even more charged. At one time it’d been exactly what I’d been worried would happen—that a kiss would be powerful enough to make me forget why I hated him.

But I’d already forgotten. Or maybe he’d given me enough reasons to change my mindset.

Not for the first time since he’d opened up to me about his past, I didn’t just want to kiss him. I craved it.

The need in his eyes had been growing even stronger since he’d begun to fully heal, and it betrayed his powerlessness. I could’ve asked for anything in that moment. Or, I could be the one to initiate, sliding up the hard length of his shaft, controlling my tempo, his orgasm, and mine . . .

I’d been sleeping by his side as I had the first weeks I’d arrived—only now, he’d pull me into his embrace each night, mouth in my hair, my hips nestled into his, our bodies learning how to share a bed. How to have restraint.

He’d woken up this morning ready to spar. And if he could wrestle me to the ground, then I knew what was next. It’d been coming a long time. He’d been waiting even longer. His unwilling bride would ask for it, and he would answer tenfold. With the ache growing stronger between my legs each day, maybe I’d even beg. He’d warned me I would.