Page 159 of Wicked Savage

“How the hell am I supposed to just look at you and not want to bend you over and fuck you?”

With a curl of my lips, I slip a hand behind me and grab his cock, squeezing it tight. “Patience is a virtue, they say.”

“I’m a desperate man.” His voice is pained, almost pleading. He faces me, his gaze intense and full of something I can’t quite place. “So tell me what to do, Dinara. Tell me how I can win you back.” His hand gently cups my nape, his touch warm and familiar, yet it doesn’t dull the ache in my chest. “What can I do to make you believe that I’ll never walk away from you again?”

A sharp pang lances through me. I swallow the hurt, the heartache he caused.

“Beg.” I quirk a brow, daring him.

His eyes flare with something close to desperation. “Please, I’ll?—”

I shake my head, cutting him off. “No. On your knees.”

For a moment, he stands there, his expression a mix of disbelief and determination, before a smirk plays at the corner of his mouth.

Slowly, deliberately, he lowers himself to the floor. The sight sends a thrill racing through me. This powerful, ruthless Mafia man, feared by so many, is on his knees. For me.

His submission, the unspoken proof of how far he’ll go to keep me, crashes over me like a tidal wave.

He reaches up, grabbing my hips, his eyes locking on to mine, steady and vulnerable.

“Please, Dinara Quinn,” he says, thick with longing, tugging my hand in his. “Come to bed with me. Tonight, and every night after. Because sleeping without you has been pure torture.”

The words hang between us, charged with everything we’ve been through and everything we still could be.

“What else?” I whisper, the strength I want to project slipping through the cracks.

“I fucked up.” Every syllable is thick with regret. “I know I hurt you, baby. I own that. But not for a second did I stop caring. I’ll drop to my knees every damn day if that’s what it takes to bring you back to me.”

A sting pricks behind my eyes, but I blink it away, refusing to let the tears win.

“And I need you to understand, wanting to share a bed with you isn’t just about how much I want you. It’s because I need to hold you, to wake up beside you. I need you next to me to feel whole.”

Oh, God.

“I never moved on, Dinara. There was never anyone else. Only you.”

Every inch of me battles against the emotions threatening to break through.

“But that’s okay,” he continues, and my heart stumbles as he slowly rises to his feet. His fingers tilt my chin up, guiding me to meet his stormy gaze. “Take your time. I’ll wait, no matter how long it takes.”

Then, with a tenderness that shakes me to my core, he presses a kiss to my forehead. It’s soft, lingering, stirring something deep inside me. A battle I’m not sure I’m ready to face.

He pulls back, but his gaze stays locked on mine—intense, searching, as if trying to piece together the fragments of the girl he once knew.

His jaw twitches.

There’s no way in hell I can walk away from him right now. All I want is to be in his arms, even if only for tonight.

“Okay.” The word leaves me on a shaky breath. “I’ll come to bed with you, but only to sleep.”

His hands hold my face, thumbs sweeping over my cheeks with unparalleled devotion. “That’s all I want. Just to hold you.”

A lump clings to the back of my throat. I desperately want to love him, but I need to be sure.

I need to know he won’t destroy me again before I risk handing him my heart a second time.

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