Chapter Seven

Finley

"Wake up, sleepyhead." I smile, running my fingers through Domani's hair. He looks peaceful in his sleep, less like a warrior and more like a slumbering giant. There's a softness to him that's absent when he's awake. I can almost imagine him as a boy. Almost. But there's nothing boyish left in this man.

I don't think he meant to fall asleep. He's reclining back on the couch, one foot up on the coffee table with the remote on his chest.

"I'm not sleeping."

"Little liar." My smile grows.

"I'm resting my eyes."

"Well, you've been resting them for a while. And you were snoring."

He cracks one hazel eye open. "I don't snore, mio sole," he says, all hot and grumpy. I don't think he's a morning person. Or a waking-up person since it's nearly dusk.

"If you say so, but I'm pretty sure there are bears in the woods planning a protest because you interrupted their hibernation."

I don't sense him moving. I don't see it, either. But the words are barely out of my mouth before his hands are around my waist and he's dragging me down onto his lap.

I struggle in his arms, not trying too hard to get free. He's shirtless, gorgeous, and I'm not crazy. He pins my arms behind my back, subduing me easily.

"Say it now, piccolina," he taunts, his cock stiffening against my ass.

"Which part wasn't clear to you, Domani?" I retort, still not afraid of him. Never less afraid of him, actually. I understand him on a fundamental level. I know what makes him tick. I've seen the blackest parts of his soul. And frankly, they captivate me.

"The part where you thought you could be fucking cute and not pay for it by riding my cock right here."

I moan loudly.

He lifts me just high enough to pull his cock from his pants and tug my panties to the side. He didn't bother to dress me before carrying me back to the cabin. He simply wrapped me up in his jacket.

"Keep your hands behind your back."

"I want to touch you."

"I know. You can soon." He runs his thumb up my slit, parting my folds. "Cristo. You're wet already."

"Yes, because you're touching me." And because I dreamed of him again. Those dreams pulled me from my sleep, compelling me to his side. I needed him. Needed this. I'm greedy for it, lapping up every touch, every moment, and sensation as if I intend for them to sustain me for a lifetime.

His skillful, wicked fingers dance through my folds, turning me into a pleading, writhing mess. He touches me everywhere except where I need him most.

"Domani, please," I groan. "Please." I can't touch him. He won't let me. And I can't come. He won't let me do that, either. He's tormenting me. Pleasure builds on pleasure, reaching a fever pitch. But there's no relief. There's only the unrelenting agony of anticipation.

"This is the pain you seek in my bed, Finley. This is how we make it hurt," he says. "Understand?"

"Yes!" I sob, willing to agree to anything. Willing to cede anything to him if it means I get to come.

"Good." His cock nudges at my entrance. Before I can take a breath, he's inside me.

I gasp as my body stretches to accommodate him, remembering the heavenly feel of him. He's so fucking big he steals my breath. And I love it.

I love it even more when he immediately starts moving, powering into me with his hands around my arms, locking them in place, and using them to drag me up and down his cock.

I'm not his toy or his plaything. I'm his doll. He uses me how he wants, fucking me like a machine. He's ruthless, merciless. And God, I can't get enough.

"You're such a fucking good girl," he growls, flipping me onto my stomach and yanking my ass into the air. His thumb presses against the tight ring of muscle as he slams back inside me, knocking me breathless. "You fuck like a dream, Finley."

His thumb slips into my ass. My body loses power beneath him, every muscle going lax. He growls, pushing his thumb in and out of me at the same speed he fucks me.

I crumble, scattering to the winds.

"That's it, " he croons. "Come all over me, mio mostriciattola." He drives into me again. Again. Again.

I scream, a thousand stars exploding behind my eyelids.

He roars, one hand tangled in my hair, the other gripping my hip. He thrusts deep, so deep I feel the head of his cock against my cervix, and then his seed splashes into me. Hot ropes pulse deep, painting my womb in the evidence of what we are together.

Explosive. Inevitable. Irrevocable.

We stay exactly like that for several long moments before he pulls out of me, groaning. A second later, he peels me from the couch, his touch gentle and reverent, as if he didn't just utterly wreck me.

He settles with me in his arms and his lips at my crown. "Tu mi appartieni, mio sole."

"I don't know Italian, Domani."

His lips curve into a smile against my skin. "I know. I said you belong to me."

"I wish that were true," I whisper, meaning it more than I ever thought possible.

He tips my head back, his hazel eyes meeting mine. "Then let's make it true. Marry me."

"What?"

"Marry me, mio sole. Now, tonight. Tomorrow. As soon as we can make it happen."

"You want to marry me?" My heart leaps into my throat.

"Your uncle won't be able to touch your money. Neither will I. I'll sign a prenup to ensure it."

My heart falls into my stomach as quickly as it leaped. He doesn't want to marry me. He's just trying to protect me.

"No, thank you."

"You don't want a prenup?"

"I don't want to marry you."

He falls still, his eyes narrowing on me. It might be my imagination, but it looks almost as if pain shoots through his eyes before his expression goes flat. "You don't want to marry me."

It's not really a question, more like a clipped, cranky statement. But I answer anyway. "I'm not tying myself to you just because you think it'll keep my money safe, Domani."

I'm not sure I ever had dreams of getting married. Trapped in my uncle's house, my dreams were far sadder. I dreamed of escape. There were no white knights coming to sweep me away. No fairytale weddings. Even as a kid, I think I knew that wasn't the future waiting for me. Like most women born into this life, I was a tool to be used.

But if I ever did dream of a different life for myself, my future husband didn't tie himself to me out of obligation or a sense of responsibility. He didn't do it because he knew there was a possibility he wouldn't survive the coming days. He did it because he couldn't imagine surviving without me. That's what I want. I won't settle for anything less. With him, I can't. Because I might not have his heart, but I think he has mine.

I don't know anything about love. I don't know what it feels like, what it looks like, or what I'm even supposed to do with it. It's been so long since anyone felt that for me, or I felt that for anyone; it's a foreign emotion, one completely at odds with everything I know. And yet…when I look at Domani? When he touches me? I think it's the thing whispering through me. Those whispers grow louder with every passing moment.

Losing him may kill me. But tying myself to him when he doesn't love me will destroy me in ways far more corrosive. I know pain. I know what it is to lose yourself day by day. I've done it for most of my life. I won't live that way again. I can't.

"Then marry me because I can't fucking live without you," he growls.

My gaze flies to his, shock running through me.

"You heard me, tesoro. You think I ask this lightly? I don't." He cups my cheek. "I know what we face. I know what you think. I'm not asking you because I think we're going to die. I'm asking you because I refuse to allow that to happen. You're going to survive this, and so I am. And when it's over, your life will be permanently tied to mine. But in the meantime, your money will be safe. Your uncle will no longer have control over it, and you'll be free."

"Domani," I whisper, hope and fear crashing together like cymbals in my chest. I want to believe him so fucking badly. But do I? Can I? Is there really a future where the two of us walk out of this alive and together?

"Il mio cuore batte per te."

"I still don't know Italian."

"My heart beats for you, Finley." He grabs my hand, laying it flat against his chest. His heart thumps a strong, steady rhythm against my palm, shaking me to my core. "It'll always beat for you. I knew it before I carried you out of your uncle's house last night."

"How?" I whisper. How is he so sure? He's so confident, so unwavering. It's as if he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that this is what's supposed to happen, as if we're what's meant to be. I want to believe him so damn badly. But I'm terrified to trust the little voice screaming that he's my one. Not because I'm worried that I'll be wrong and he'll lock me away just like my uncle. But because I'm terrified that if I'm right, suddenly, I'll have something to lose. I've never had that before.

"Because you're a piece of me. Mio cuore. Mio sole. Luce mia." His lips brush mine. "Io e te per sempre. You and me forever."

I sob, pressing my face to his throat as he cracks my heart wide open and sends my walls crashing to the ground. They fall in a blaze of glory, allowing him to sweep into every space in my heart. I cling to him, tears pouring down my face as years of fear, grief, and rage pour out of me, and the bright sparks of love ignite a wildfire in their place.

"Yes," I manage to whisper through it. "Yes."