Violent Triumphs (White Monarch 3)

He didn’t deserve that; my gratitude for his restraint during that time knew no bounds. Cristiano could’ve taken what he’d wanted on our wedding night. How many men in his position would’ve? I shuddered to think. I’d be a different woman if he had, married to a different man.

But enough was enough. I needed him to finish what he’d started and consummate this goddamn marriage.

“I wasn’t going to rape you the way my brother did.” Cristiano stalked up to me, taking my chin in his large paw of a hand and forcing me to look him in the eyes. “And that is what he did, Natalia. He said whatever he had to in order to coerce you into his bed. I wasn’t going to do the same, and I never will, so you’d better learn how to ask for what you fucking want.”

“I did. I told you not to leave this morning, but you didn’t hesitate a second before running off when Jaz called.” Smug satisfaction settled in me at the way he flinched. I’d offered myself to him twice in twenty-four hours, and he’d turned me down both times. The unrelenting need to be relieved by him and only him pushed me to poke him until he reacted. “My husband turns his back on his wife when another woman needs him. Jaz, Tasha, Sandra—is there anyone I come before?”

“How dare you say I haven’t put you first!” He took his hand back, towering over me. “Have you wanted for anything since you stepped foot inside these walls?”

You.

My desire for him had been simmering since our first dance, I just hadn’t wanted to admit it. Now that I could, it overwhelmed me, and I hated that I could be flipped so easily. I trusted Cristiano with my body, but it didn’t erase Diego’s violation.

“I thought I knew what you wanted, but maybe I was wrong,” I said, my lips pinched as I dropped my eyes to the bulging crotch of his sweats. “Or maybe I wasn’t. There must be some other reason you keep your hands to yourself.”

“Watch your mouth, chiquita,” he warned.

Being referred to as a little girl only infuriated me more. I stepped up under his nose. “I think I hear Jaz calling. Perhaps you should run along so I can return to my friend.”

“People’s lives are on the line. You expect me to laze in bed when they need me and let them fend for themselves?”

“Yes.” I was being unfair, but so was he. It wasn’t just my heart that had been aching since yesterday, but my body, too. Cristiano had promised to fuck me into oblivion more than once, and he had yet to follow through. Did he expect me to beg for it?

He stepped forward until we were toe to toe, his eyes darkening as his composure fissured. Finally, his anger matched mine. “Heaven’s finest symphony is just noise compared to your pleas for me to stay in bed. I couldn’t ask for anything more. But understand—you cannot command me. I don’t answer to anyone. I have a duty to fulfill.”

“You took me, you put me in this role, so, yes—now, you do answer to me.” I nearly vibrated with rage. “And I won’t come second to anyone, especially Jaz. She’s trying to come between us.”

“Nobody gets between us unless we allow it. And since when do you care?” Heat flashed in his eyes as he tilted his head, provoking me. “Why does my wife suddenly give a fuck where I go and what I do? What could be the reason, hmm?”

“Because . . . because . . .”

Love. That was why.

Because I had run out of reasons not to love him. It had bloomed unexpectedly and brutally. The soil for it had been rich, the foundation laid before I knew what it was to love a man. My mother had trusted him, and so had I. Cristiano had been nurturing that seed all along, and the vines had overgrown my heart without my realizing it.

And he knew it.

“You don’t need to pick a fight, mi amor,” he said smugly. “If you need me to fuck you, just ask—and mean it.”

I needed it so badly, I ached with it. I grabbed his cheeks and pulled his mouth to mine. For a moment, he seemed too stunned to react, but then he gripped my hair by the root and backed me up against a wall.

“You thought all these clothes could keep me out, eh?” he said.

“It almost worked.”

“You have no idea how wrong you are. Say it,” he demanded into my mouth, then yanked my cardigan down around my biceps, trapping me with it. “Ask for it.”

My breath stuttered along with my pulse. I was too needy, too aching, too far gone to anything but the carnal pull between us. “Please, Cristiano. Please, will you?”