Page 34 of Ruthless God

I inhaled deeply when he hardened right before my eyes—even more so than he already had. I was the only one who got to come this morning.

I moved my eyes away, and they slammed right into his.

He was smirking at me.

I peered back down at the bedsheet as he crawled onto the bed toward me. I had no choice but to look up into his face when he was so close to me. So close his nose nearly touched mine.

“You can look all you want, baby.”

I bit my lip, not knowing what to say to that. He was giving me permission to ogle him?

“After all, I plan on looking at you,” he said seductively.

Hell.

I didn’t think it would be possible for there to be a time when I wouldn’t be shy with him or let him look at me like that. The image of me just lying there naked while he got his fill came to mind, but even that scenario was too unbelievable for me.

He chuckled and playfully tapped my chin with two fingers before moving off the bed and toward the bathroom.

I gasped slightly when he showed me his back. The three scars on his face were nothing compared to the scars on his back. I thought I had seen a few on his torso, but whatever happened to him, it seemed his back bore the brunt of it.

Tears sprang to my eyes at the image. I couldn’t imagine the kind of pain he must have been in from the torture—and it was that. There was no way to define it as anything but torture.

He went to the bathroom and closed the door behind him before I could say anything. Not that I would have been brave enough to ask.

I waited until the water turned on before I sprang out of bed. Then, I grabbed the white robe hanging off the ottoman nearby and quickly put it on.

I turned back to the bed. The covers and the bedsheet were all in disarray, and I wondered if the person cleaning this room after we left would know what we did on it last night.

My cheeks tightened at the thought, and I pulled on the blanket, wondering if I could make it, only to find a bloody stain in the middle of the bed.

A small noise escaped my lips. What the hell was I supposed to do about that?

Tears stung my eyes, and I was suddenly feeling overwhelmed. So much so, I didn’t even hear Massimo coming out of the bathroom. I jumped when I felt his hand on my shoulder.

“Whoa, easy there. Are you okay?” he asked.

I turned around to look at him. I still had parts of the blanket wrapped in my arms, and the bloodstained sheets drew my attention from the corner of my eye.

Massimo looked at the blanket, at me, and then back to the bed before looking at me once more.

He frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“They’ll know,” I said, my voice a near whisper.

“Know?”

I pointed at the bloodstain.

Massimo’s face relaxed. “Ah. I’m sure they’ve seen worse.”

I grimaced. Was that supposed to make me feel better?

I didn’t say anything. What could I say? Argue and be difficult?

I nodded and tried to walk around him to the bathroom and get ready. We were set to leave for Las Vegas as soon as we checked out. At least when they sent someone to clean the room, I wouldn’t be in Chicago.

Massimo stopped me when I got about two steps away. I looked back at him questioningly. He didn’t say anything for a beat, his eyes roaming over my face. He was doing that thing where he looked at me as if he could see right into my soul. I resisted squirming on my feet.

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