Page 18 of The Heir
She huffs a dark laugh. "Is that not what you were hoping for?"
"God, no!" I slap my hands on my thighs. "No, my love. I wanted… I wanted to tell you at your favorite restaurant. I wanted to dress well for you. I wanted to show you off to the world: Melody, my wife, my greatest treasure."
"You're doing a pretty good job at groveling. Keep going," she says with a mischievous smile.
I move to get up from the floor, but she shoves her foot into my chest and pushes me back down. My whole body freezes, and I stay where she put me, like a good boy. With ravenous eyes, I watch her dismount from the dining chair and stand over me. There isn't any love in her eyes, not yet, but it's definitely not hate. It looks more like malicious glee, and I try to stifle the shiver that runs down my spine.
"Please, love. I beg your forgiveness," I whisper, not daring to move another muscle.
"Yeah? Then fucking beg." She shoves her foot into my chest again, pinning me between her and the wooden cabinetry.
I'm fucked. My cock has horrible timing. The instant she touches me, he springs to life, trapped in the sweatpants I threw on before she woke up. I'm sure she can see every rigid inch of me. "Please?"
"Oh, you can do better than that." She digs her heel in. "Fucking beg, Dante. Beg and plead like your life is on the line."
"I'm so sorry, love! Please, please forgive me—I need it. I crave your forgiveness. Please, you won't regret it, I swear. I swear on my life. If… if I disappoint you again, kill me." A tear slides down my cheek, while a bead of precum leaks from my cock. I've never been so aroused and so regretful in my life. The emotions war in my chest, but I mean every goddamn word I say. "Kill me. It would be my absolute honor to die at your hand. I was wrong, Melody. I was so, so wrong. You were right. You'realwaysright. Please."
She increases the pressure with her foot. I can see the strain on her face as she throws her whole body weight behind it—and then she releases. She lets me go. I drop to my hands, falling prostrate to the floor. Wrapping a hand around her ankle, I whisper, "Please, love. Please forgive me."
"Better." She leans down and pats the top of my head. "Keep working on it, and I'm sure you'll be my good boy again."
Good boy. I try to stifle the groan that rumbles in my throat, but I can't. Fuck. Oh, I'm so completely fucked. "I will. I promise."
"Good. Work on that. I'm going to take a goddamn shower." Without so much as another glance at me, she swaggers down the stairs.
"Fuck," I grunt, pushing myself up. My cock is stillpainfullyhard.
"Oh, one last thing?" Melody calls up to me.
"Anything, love, I swear," I say as I scurry to the landing.
"Don't youdarejerk yourself off."
Fuck.
Roman won't look me in the eye. He refuses to look at Melody, either, but I'm fine with that. Apparently, her voice carries in the concrete walls of the underground bunker—and all of the men heard her forbid me to touch myself. I'm not ashamed to admit that my hand and I were intimately acquainted while Melody was taken away from me, but now that I have her back? I need the real thing or nothing.
The fact that she waltzes around our shared bedroom in next to nothing after her shower doesn't help matters. Every time I see her, god, I'm so tempted. She's incredible. She's everything. But if I want to be her good boy again—and I do, more than anything on earth—I need to follow her rules.
"How long do you intend to stay here, sir?" Roman plops down on the leather couch next to me with two coffee mugs. The caffeine starts to work its magic from the first steamy, hot gulp.
"That's a loaded question, Ro." I swirl the cup and watch the tiny bubbles dance on the surface. "As long as it's not safe to return, really."
"Obviously. Let me rephrase. How long until we put together a solid plan? I can't imagine you'll just turn tail and run, or am I incorrect?" His tone is clipped and short. I narrow my eyes. Perhaps it's the stress, but he's been less and less professional with me.
"Watch yourself, Ro. My wife wasjustrescued from prison. She suffered a horrific, traumatic miscarriage. She wastakenfrom me. I just got her back," I grit out between my teeth. "Let me enjoy her for asingular momentbefore launching into more horrors."
"Doesn't seem like you're enjoying much," he chuckles. "She's prancing around in tiny outfits, and you're mooning after her like a goddamn puppy."
Rage flashes through me as I throw the coffee mug against the wall. The shattering ceramic doesn't faze me, but the hint of fear in Roman's eyes makes me smile maliciously. "Apuppy?Is that so?"
He straightens his back and levels his gaze directly into my eyes. "It is."
"Big words for a man I employ." As soon as the words exit my mouth, he rises from the sofa. I follow suit and puff out my own chest. "Go on, then. Tell me what you really think."
"I think you're being pathetic. There's awaragainst us, and you're following her around. Begging for her forgiveness. You got the entire Consortium to work together to prepare for this war, and all you're doing is hiding in this bunker." He glares at me, and I ball up my fists. "Is that how a man acts,sir?"
Sharp pain radiates from my fist when it connects with his jaw—I didn't even realize I threw a punch until I felt it. But the floodgates open, and it feelsgoodto slam him to the floor. I pin him down between my legs and swing my fist again at his stupid, grizzled jaw. He's been taunting me, pushing me, and he shouldn't be fucking surprised when I snap. I didn't get to where I am today by always hiding behindhim.
