My Dark Romeo: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance(53)

With Romeo’s tongue a safe distance from my sex, my panties had snapped back. Most definitely stained. Most definitely another trophy for my husband.

I was no longer a virgin.

He did it.

He claimed me.

Romeo frowned, pressing his phone to his ear. “Did you triple check?”

My pulse charged across my skin. I thought my heart would explode into red confetti in my chest.

Why was I so anxious? I had nothing to hide. I’d spent my evening with an army of salesmen.

Romeo slid his phone into his pocket, observing me with detached dissatisfaction. As if nothing had happened between us just seconds ago.

Like he hadn’t taken something so precious from me.

“Wash yourself and put something on. We’re leaving.”

“You had me followed?” Anger robbed me of my breath.

Never in my entire life had I been subjected to such misogynistic behavior. Even in the small, religious town I grew up in.

Romeo turned, headed for his wallet and keycard. I snatched the hairbrush and pursued him, shoulders quaking with the remainders of my orgasm and fresh, hot rage.

“Answer me!”

But he didn’t.

He just…didn’t.

And in that wretched moment, I was so mad, so upset, so lost in this twisted universe he’d tucked me into, I swung the brush back and launched it at him.

It crashed into his triangle back with a thwack! and tumbled to the floor.

He stopped moving.

I stopped breathing.

What had I done?

Assaulted your husband.

I’d never hit anyone before.

Ever.

It seemed like an eternity passed before he twisted to face me. His eyes turned the color of ash, dead and dusky.

“I…I didn’t mean to…” The rest of the sentence lodged in my throat.

I tripped backward as he advanced toward me. There was no anger in his posture. Just measured strides, sensible and proficient.

I matched each forward step with one foot back. When my spine thumped against the wall, his arms boxed me in.

He fingered my chin, tilting my face up. His hot breath skated down my flesh. He smelled like me. Or rather, like what he’d done to me.

A shaky inhale rippled my throat, and I swallowed the gum he’d disposed in my mouth.

“Let’s get one thing straight, my beautiful, unhinged wife. Seeing as your ex-fiancé would like my head speared into a dagger on his wrought-iron gate, I will stop at nothing to ensure you and Madison aren’t out for my throat. Don’t confuse my desire to eat out your cunt with affection. Those two have nothing to do with one another. I will destroy you at the drop of a hat if you show real, potent disloyalty to me.”

“I’m not—”

His thumb grazed my collarbone, halting my protest. “As for the shopping… This is an open invitation for you to burn my money to the ground, but if you purposefully refuse my calls and shut off your phone, you will be punished. Last but not least, in this marriage, we do not lay a hand on each other without consent. This also applies to inanimate objects, pets, and small babies. Do. Not. Throw. Anything. At. Me. Am I clear?”

I couldn’t believe he’d let me off with a warning after I’d narrowly avoided cracking his skull open with the hairbrush.

I mean, the momentum was there. The world of shotput had missed out on a natural talent.

Though he’d made himself more than clear, that didn’t mean I accepted the terms he laid out for me. But now wasn’t the time to argue. Not when he could call the police on me.

Face turned sideways, I answered by freeing myself from his grasp.

“I swear to God, Dallas—”

“You have no God.”

I tried pushing him away. He captured my wrists in his hands and flattened me against the wall with his weight.

His eyes breathed fire. The sharp lines of his jaw were so rigid, I feared his muscles would leap through his skin.

“Whether you like it or not, we are married. That won’t change. And the unsavory consequence of my employment includes a real risk to both our lives. Your phone stays on, charged, and ready for use. At all times. As for your questionable lifestyle choices—”

“My worst lifestyle choice is being married to you. Actually…” I tried and failed to free myself. “That wasn’t a choice.”

“Is it really so horrible being married to me?”

He seemed puzzled. As if the idea of not being desired was completely foreign to him.

I guess it was.

“Yes. Yes!” Heavy desperation latched onto my throat. “Are you kidding? Your whole existence gives me whiplash. You force me into marriage, drag me into your house, desert me, threaten me. You eat me out one second and berate me the next. You…you—”

“Truce.” He pulled away all of a sudden, giving me space.

I nearly collapsed on the tiles without him holding me upright.

Slanting my head up, I scowled. “Huh?”

“I’m offering you a cease-fire. A white flag. An opportunity to start over. I’m willing to hear what you have to say and make this arrangement more bearable for you. We both know there is no way out of this marriage for either of us. Might as well make it manageable.”

Hard to say no to an offer so charming and romantic.