Page 83 of Sinner's Vows

By the time I get to her hips, I drop to my knees to look at her wound and dab it dry. It’s healing well, and even the red tally scars seem to have faded a bit. Only the cigarette burns still stare at me in anger, and for a moment, I fist the towel, bunching it up. A sudden rage pulses through me, and I drop my head to her belly, fighting it, but it has nowhere to go but deep in me where I’ve been keeping it buried for years.

For a minute, I just have to breathe, battling for control, and then her warm fingers weave into my hair, stroking lower to my ears, and with a soft brush, settle on my shoulders.

“It’s okay, Dominic,” she murmurs as she holds on to me. “When you’re with me, I don’t think about it at all.”

I could weep at her words. Maybe I should. Finally force that plug out where it’s stuffed so deep down in me, everything can finally come out. Mom. Gabriella. Alex. The Don. The fucked-up shit he did to me because I let him.

Because I fucking let him.

I fucking let him bully me, abuse me, too fucking scared to tell him no, to make him stop.

Too fucking weak.

The weakest fucking link. Until he took out Alex, and I finally understood the lay of the land. This pinkie wasn’t for nothing. ‘Know your place. Play your part. And shut the fuck up. Or I do the same to your brothers.’

Just like me, a monster did this to her, held her down, tied her up, not giving her a fighting chance to stop him from brutalizing her.

‘But when you’re with me, I don’t think about it at all.’And when she’s with me, all I want is to be the man who makes her forget, the man she deserves and needs. I want to be everything the Don wasn’t.

A shudder vibrates through me, a quake that seems to ripple from my core. I’m weeping, my tears gathering between us, slipping down her belly as I let go, tired of battling with myself. I’m not sure how long we’re standing like this, but Ariana’s hands are warm, safe, caring. Touch I always denied myself, never understanding how much I needed it.

“You need to forgive yourself, Dominic, for allowing him to do what he did to you. You were just a kid.”

When I eventually rise to my feet, her eyes search mine, her gaze dropping to my lips. Sinking into her would be the ultimate cure for both of us, even just with a kiss, but I can’t. Whatever my conscience can get away with—which is a fucking lot given the stuff I’ve done and been through—this woman is almost virginal in comparison to me. I don’t want to fuck her up, too.

The brusque thought reminds me who is taking care of whom here, and with it, I gently wrap the towel around her body again. “Where’s your pjs? Let me guess, under the pillow, Portia-style?”

Ariana shoots me a smile. “Yes.”

I have her by the hand, and we pad over to the head of the bed. I rummage under the pillows for those light pink satin pjs Portia sourced for her, and when she drops the towel, I almost tumble us to the bed, the need to pull her on top of me, allowing her to explore her own limits on my body, almost gate-crashing all my plans.

Instead, like a fucking monk, I guide her arms into the top’s sleeves and help her step into the shorts. I don’t glance down at her breasts again, or at her sweet little pussy that deserves a thorough lashing from my tongue, but my cock goes on as if everything in front of me is for the taking.

“Get in bed, sweetheart,” I say gruffly, needing to cool the fuck off. I pad over to the closet, finding fresh boxers to contain the beast, and all the way, I can feel her gaze on me. But I’ve let my guard slip with her so completely, there’s no turning back. I don’t care anymore that she’s seenme.

Now would be a good time to put a bullet in my back, if she cared for that shit anymore. Dying was always the way out, the only way out.

I drop the towel and pull on some sleep shorts, giving my cock a unsatisfying fisting en route to tell it to calm the fuck down. When I turn towards my side of the bed, she’s sitting ontop of the covers, on her knees, just like a submissive, waiting, the ties I used last night unknotted, neatly rolled up and ready.

“I’m not tying you up, Ariana.” I’d think what with everything that happened today, everything we learned from each other?—

“I want you to tie me up,” she says softly, her eyes fixed on mine. “Like you did last night.”

“Why? You’re not going to try anything.” Even if today hadn’t happened, surely, she would’ve caught on by now how this mansion is a prison, a pretty one, but a prison all the same, and I’m the fucking dungeon master.

“I don’t know where you went earlier, Dominic,” she says softly. “I might have my suspicions, but if you go there again, I want to be with you. I want you to take me with you, so you’re not alone.”

Breaking.

This is what it feels like to be breaking at the hands of a woman. It’s like nothing I’ve known before. It’s nothing like what I learned to do. It’s soft and generous, and understanding, and beautiful and warm, an embrace into the gentlest folds I’ve ever been held in my adult life.

I swallow down my emotions and say the first logistical thing that comes to mind as I kneel onto the bed, matching her pose. “Better I teach you some knots then, sweetheart.”

45

ARIANA

Dominic’s fingers quiver as he knots the ties into a string, wraps them around us like he did last night, tethering us together as one. Somehow, his movements have become almost like a religious ritual, but every single brush of his fingers against my skin sends sparks of desire to my core.

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