Page 54 of Vow to Corrupt You
His toned chest broadens as he takes a deep breath. I look at his tattoo-covered scars scattered all over his torso. Who did this to him? And why? Was it his father? Or a rival? I have so many questions and no answers.
“I told you already,” his tone as brooding as the expression on his face. “I don’t want to feel.”
“Why, though?”
His head angles, so now our gazes lock. “You won’t let this go, will you?”
“No.” Not when I have a chance to drag something out of him. Not when, for the first time, I feel like there’s a flicker of humanity left in this dark, dangerous man.
“If you can’t feel things, it makes them seem a little less real. It doesn’t fuck you up so hard.”
“What do you mean?”
“The gloves create a barrier between me and the world, numbing my sense of touch. Everything feels less immediate and less real, almost like I’m a casual observer who is watching and experiencing my life from a distance. Detached. As if it isn’t me who does all these things a sane person wouldn’t dare to think of doing.”
There’s a haunting weight to his tone, like he’s battling with demons that cling to him. He must’ve done something with his bare hands that left a lasting imprint on his mind, affecting him on such a deep level that he couldn’t bear its weight any longer, so instead, he protects himself.
But why won’t he touch me outside of sexually? Is he scared of forming any sort of attachment? Any bond?
“I want you to touch me.” I sit in front of him and overlap his hand, the one bare of the glove, in mine. “Touch me. Not to pleasure me. Not because of lust. Feel me. You asked me to trust you,” I whisper, “and I have.”
Cautiously, I bring his hand close to my cheek but don’t force contact. It lingers just above my skin. “Now here I am, asking you to trust me.”
CHAPTER 28
Nikos
I place my hand on Serena’s cheek. Its warmth feels almost surreal. She leans in to my touch as if she’s found her oasis. Slowly, she moves our hands, making me brush my fingers against her parting lips. Her eyes close, reeling in the moment. She retracts her hand, letting me follow my own path. I drag my fingers down her neck, the prominent collarbone I find so alluring. The softness of her skin stirs a sensation I haven’t allowed myself in ages. It’s not just physical. It’s not just to touch; it’s to feel. It’s like I’m letting the barriers I had built around myself go, and of course, I should’ve expected she would be the one to make me go against my own rules. I trail a path over her body, savoring the feel of her curves beneath my fingers. It feels like fucking heaven and a dangerous gamble all in one. For so long, I’ve been immune to this kind of closeness, guarding myself with layers of detachment. Now, it feels like the walls I’ve carefully built around myself may shatter with a simple touch of her skin. A touch with no hidden meaning, no mixed signals. One that doesn’t lead anywhere. One that binds and, more importantly, one that I haven’t let myself feel in ages. One that brings out all the feelings I’ve buried deep inside me. All the feelings I thought I killed.
My hand roams back to Serena’s neck—it’s so delicate—her skin. But then, glimpses of my hands covered in blood, the feeling of its warmth enveloping them as they sink deeper into flesh and blood, flash through my subconsciousness. I pull away.
“What happened?” she stiffens, as if unsure whether to approach or run.
“I can’t. I have to go.” I get out of bed.
“Where?” Her voice stops me as I reach the door.
I look at her, darkness in my eyes. “I know you think you may be my redemption, wicked one, but I neither believe nor seek redemption.”
Instead, I will be your damnation.
I glance at her one last time before leaving.
I put on a simple T-shirt and sweatpants and locked myself in my office. This was partially the reason why I wanted separate bedrooms. I can’t sleep with the gloves on, and I feared I would touch her during sleep. I knew it could bring old memories to the surface, something I was trying to avoid until today. But she pulled this out of me.
A heavy breath escapes my lungs, and my hand runs through my hair involuntarily. I pour myself a glass of whiskey and try to focus on work, though it’s hard to silence the demons of my past running wild through my mind now. I’m not sure how much time passes, but a few soft knocks at the door jolt me back from my inner torment. I know who it is and I can’t deny her anything.
“Come in.”
The door opens slowly, and Serena comes in. Her fingers fidgeting, her expression one of concern and confusion.
“I wanted to ask if I can visit Salvatore,” her tone wobbles. “He didn’t come for lunch, and I’d like to talk to him.”
“Of course.” I drawl. “You don’t need my permission to see your family.”
“But Salvatore—”
“Is still your family.”
