Page 186 of Salvatore

It’s a trap. A honey one, just like the CIA use.

“Not this time.” That sneaky son of a bitch knows that once he lures me into the warm water and mesmerizes me with his hands, mouth, and other far more rigid assets,poof—all logical thought of the future will be gone. “I don’t want to get distracted.” I cross my arms over my chest and lean against the doorjamb, entirely, one hundred percent not showering with him.

“Suit yourself.” He walks his perfectly muscled ass into the bathroom, leaving the door open so I have an unrestricted sound bite of him starting said shower.

“Bastard.” I remain in place. Steadfast. Committed… Then the fall of the water’s spray changes and I picture him glistening and wet, all sudsed up, cleaning parts of himself that I’ve grown accustomed to orgasming over and?—

“Fine. But no touching.” I traipse to the bathroom, cursing my pitiful restraint, and strip out of my pajama shirt to join him.

His smirk is subtle as I walk into the open-ended shower, his cock jolting to betray his calm facade.

I ignore it. All fifty fucking inches and then some. “What did Lorenzo say?”

Strong hands close around my shoulders, his touch branding my skin with the kind of control that makes my breath hitch.He turns me, guiding me backward under the water. Without a word, he grabs the shampoo, squeezes some into his palm, then glides those manipulative fingers over my scalp, each stroke a shock that sends tremors through my body, igniting nerves I didn’t know were asleep.

I moan, giving up on restraint and falling headfirst into self-indulgence. “Tell me what he said.”

He drags his hands to the base of my scalp, gently scrubbing, lathering. “He’s still livid and unwilling to discuss my plans.”

“You have plans?” I turn to him, wildly swiping away the shampoo trailing down my forehead.

“I do.” He reclaims my shoulders, turning me back around and guiding my head under the water. He washes the suds from the heavy lengths, continuing to butter me up like he has all week.

I may have pitiful self-discipline where he’s concerned, but I’m well aware his acts of service have been for the sake of succession. He wants me to keep the child I carry and the more time I spend with him, the more set I am in the decision I’ve made.

“You’re stalling.” I attempt to glance at him over my shoulder, only endeavoring to get a face full of water. “Why?”

“Maybe I don’t want things to change.” He tugs on my hair, forcing me to comply to his will. “But you’re right; we can’t stay here forever.”

We. The distinction packs a punch I hadn’t had the guts to deliver.

“How much do you love Baltimore?” He continues to play with my hair, adding conditioner to the ends. “Could you live without it?”

“I assumed I’d have to.” That I’d lose Liv and Allison. My job. My apartment. The memories. The familiarity. My past. “If it makes living an option, I’ll do whatever’s necessary.”

“Living is the only option I’m interested in working on. I’ll find a way for you to feel safe.”

My heart pangs. I’m sure he’ll at least try. The problem is, I can’t imagine feeling safe without him, and a future together isn’t something I should fantasize about.

“The way I see it, we’ve got two options.” He combs his fingers through my lengths. “I can attempt to arrange a sit-down with the cartel and negotiate a way for you to be free from?—”

“That would never work. Gabriel wouldn’t allow it.”

“OrI could do what I should’ve done after they kidnapped you, and kill them all.”

I stiffen, waiting for him to snicker, to laugh, to show any sense of satire, but the only thing that greets me is the delicate fall of the shower’s spray.

I turn to him. “Are you serious?”

His expression is cold. Calculated. “I am.”

My pulse kicks up a notch as I envisage exactly whothem allwould include—obviously Gabriel and Alonso. But who else? My remaining uncles? The slew of male cousins? All dead?

Salvatore must sense my panic because he slowly withdraws, lowering his hands to his sides. “I thought you’d be relieved.”

Maybe I am. I don’t know. There’s hope with the prospect. Optimism when I imagine a world free of those who want to hurt me. But what about those who remain aligned with Gabriel who I still care for? Would my mother be on the hit list? My aunts? My female cousins?

What’s worse, though, is that the likelihood of success without our own casualties seems nonexistent. And what would it take for Salvatore to kill my family? Would that type of violence change him? Changeus?

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