Page 66 of The Butcher's Wife
I hold a breath in as he passes by, his footsteps heavy.
I know with every single fiber of my being that Dom would never hurt me.
It doesn’t make sense for me to trust him, and I know that too. He’s bigger, older, and more vicious. He’s hurtotherpeople—I’ve seen him kill a man with his bare hands. It’snot like I have a good track record of understanding deep truths about people, so it’s almost impossible to know if it’s a lie I tell myself, but I believe it all the same.
My name is Annetta.
The Earth is round.
Domenico Lombardi will never hurt me.
That’s what has my heart slamming against my chest in a sort of trusting, blind panic. The rollercoaster’s about to tip over, the blonde girl on the TV is about to walk into the basement, and my big, scary husband’s just turned the corner.
I’m terrified, but I’m safe. I’m not calm, but I am in control. Once I hear a loud footfall out of sight of the kitchen, I crawl on my hands and knees away from him. Maybe I can spy on him from the opposite set of stairs.
I lift to a crouch, balancing myself carefully on the balls of my feet to set out in a silent sprint.
The moment I lunge forward, a hand circles my ankle.
I shriek giddily and kick at him, but he’s already wrenching me toward him, final and certain as a ship to a dock.
“Well, well, well.” Dom flips me so I’m on my back underneath him. His thick thighs trap me against the cool tile, and his hand splays next to my head, the edge of his thumb brushing against my cheek. “What do we have here?”
The sight of him knocks the air out of my lungs.
“You caught me,” I whisper breathlessly. My chest heaves like I’ve just won a sprint.
The same wolfish grin as always grows arrogantly across his face, but his eyes are tender. “I’ll always catch you,reginetta.”
I suck in a breath. My heart swells against the underside of my chest, and three little words press against my throat,even when I swallow. I don’t know if this is love, but I’m certain I want him, in all the ways he’ll give himself to me.
I press my palm flat against his chest and dig my fingertips into the muscle there.
If I could just take his heart without asking, I would.
“It’s time,” I say.
He brushes his thumb against my jaw in a slow caress. I want to pull out his ponytail so badly, feel his hair tumble over my face. I want to live inside his skin.
“Yeah. It’s time.” He leans down and kisses me like he’s starved for every one of my exhales. Like he wants to guard every piece of me inside him.
My hands move up to his ponytail, tug, and a curtain of hair falls over us.
He chuckles against my lips. “You like that?”
“Iloveyour hair.”
He groans deeply, pressing me back against the tile floor with his mouth until the back of my head sings in pain.
I drag my legs from between his to circle around his waist, pressing against his sides with all the strength in my thighs, free in the knowledge that I can’t hurt him, even if I tried. I collect his hair into my fist and tug, leading his head up in a slow arc to bare his throat to me, and he lets me do it. I curl forward to shove my face into the crook of his neck, wanting to smother myself with him, to shake apart from the vibrations of his moans. I kiss the scar I left on his neck.
Energy thunders through me. He said I could havewhateverI want.
“Take your shirt off,” I urge into his ear like the devil on his shoulder.
Dom rises onto his knees and tugs his shirt off with one hand. I don’t know where to look first—it’s all delicious, all of the tattoos, scars, hair, and muscles. I like that he keepshis hair long. I like that he doesn’t suck in his belly. I like his patience, his confidence, and his appetite. I like that I can see a future with him.
He leans down as I push my hips up, and then he scoops me into his arms, easily lifting both of us off the floor with his intense strength.
