Page 60 of Dragonfly

Not to Damien.

And since I’m dark and twisted enough now to see the romance in such brutal possessiveness, I’m still incredibly turned on that he killed Ricky for the crime of touching me.

“See? You’re a bad guy, but that doesn’t make you a villain. Not to me.”

Releasing my left arm, he uses his free hand to tip my chin back. “I’m glad to hear that. Seeing as how I am also your husband.”

“No,” I say softly. “You’re Savannah’s husband. And now you know… Savannah doesn’t exist. Not really.”

The night I married Damien, I considered that my ace in the hole. No matter what, our marriage couldn’t be legal because the woman he married just didn’t exist. But now… I can’t deny the twinge of disappointment that our marriage really is fake. Somehow, I’ve grown to like being his wife, but now that I know he knows the truth, how can I be?

Simple.

His other hand moves. Suddenly, he’s gripping me by the jaw, angling my face up so that he can kiss me deeply.

When he breaks for a breath, he presses his forehead to mine. “You are Savannah. And that means you’re mine.”

“But why,” I whisper back. “Why the hell did you marry me?”

“Because I wanted a wife, but out of all the women I’ve ever known, I’ve never felt the desire to tie myself to one until you.” He caresses the edge of my jaw with his thumb. “You were beautiful. Feisty. I caught you spying on me almost immediately, but I’m sure there were times I didn’t. Do you know how rare that is? Even for someone to try? And then you stabbed me… even with my knife in my side, I was already imagining you as my wife. So that’s what I did.”

And all that’s well and good, but you know what I didn’t hear him say? That he loves me.

That’s just further proof that I really have lost my fucking mind. Because why would I care if he loves me or not?

I won’t kill him. That’s as much as I can offer him. I won’t cheat on him, either. I’ll be the loyal wife he wants… but that’s all.

I need to change the subject. I need something else to focus on that’s not how he’s touching me as if I’m precious, as if I mean something to him. Considering how thoroughly he just fucked me, it’s like he’s trying to give me some aftercare.

And that makes me realize something I didn’t notice before.

“Shit.”

“Hmm?”

Planting my hands against his chest, I give him a small shove. I don’t put enough oomph in it to really move him on my own. Luckily, he takes pity on me and lets me go.

Right away, I reach under my skirt, dipping my pointer finger inside of my tender pussy. It’s way wetter than it should be, and I glare over at Damien.

“You nutted in me,” I accuse.

“Yes. What? Did you think I would pull out? You let me give you my cock, cara mia. There was only one place I was going to finish and that’s inside of you.”

I should’ve expected that. After all, he enjoyed himself finishing in my mouth during that fateful BJ. Why wouldn’t he give me a creampie?

Oh, that’s right. Because this marriage is already so dysfunctional, why shouldn’t we throw a fucking kid into it?

“Are you serious? You weren’t wearing a condom!”

Duh. With how fast everything was happening, protection was the last thing on my mind, too, but now that I’m coming down from the high of banging my gorgeous husband… “Shit. I need Plan B.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Me? “Okay. Next time wear a goddamn condom.”

His upper lip curls. At first, I think it’s because I basically just reassured him that that wasn’t a one-time thing, but it’s more than that, and I find out when he tells me bluntly, “No. If there’s one thing I’ll insist on, it’s that nothing will ever come between us.”

Damien is a smart man. Why doesn’t he understand why I’m suddenly freaking out?

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