“I wanted to kill him for touching you.”
Sophie’s eyes widen slightly, as if she didn’t expect me to actually say it.
All the control I’ve been clinging to, all the restraint I’ve been using to keep my hands off her, crumbles like sand.
I release her wrist and cup her face instead, my thumb brushing across her cheek. “Now I want to make sure you remember who you belong to.”
“Do I belong to you?”
“You’re my wife.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
My other hand slides around her waist, pulling her closer. “You belong to me, Sophie. Whether you want to or not.”
Then I kiss her.
I kiss her like I’ve been wanting to all evening. Like I’ve been wanting to since the moment I saw her dancing with someone else. Hard and possessive and desperate, pouring all my frustration and jealousy and need into the connection between us.
Sophie responds immediately, her arms winding around my neck, her body pressing against mine like she’s been starving for this contact. She tastes like champagne and something darker, something that’s purely her.
My hands slide down her back, finding the zipper of her dress. The sound it makes as I pull it down seems impossibly loud in the quiet of the wine cellar.
“Dom,” she breathes against my mouth.
“What?”
“Nothing. Don’t stop.”
The dress pools at her feet, leaving her in nothing but black lace that makes my mouth go dry. She’s perfect. Absolutely fucking perfect.
I lift her onto the table, my hands spanning her waist as I step between her legs.
“Why?” I ask, my forehead resting against hers.
“Why what?”
“Why does your body respond to a cruel man?”
Sophie’s hands frame my face, her thumbs brushing across my cheekbones. “Maybe because you’re not as cruel as you want me to think.”
“I forced you to marry me.”
“To protect me.”
“I threatened your family.”
“To keep me close.”
“I exposed you tonight. Put you in danger.”
“To make sure everyone knows I’m yours.”
Her words hit something deep inside me, something I didn’t know was there. She sees through every excuse, every justification I’ve given myself.
“Sophie…”
“I know what you are, Dom. And I know what you’re not.” Her lips brush against mine as she speaks. “So stop trying to convince me you’re a monster.”