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Could he see my heart racing, feel my pulse speed up, smell my sex grow wet as he laid his fingers on my skin?

“I want nothing from you.” Flicking my eyes to his face, I wanted to push the feelings away. “Why the fuck would you even think that?”

I shouldn't have had this sick desire for the man who stole me.

But I did. And no matter what I told myself, my body deceived me.

His fingers made my skin heat, the way he looked at me made my sex melt. My chest was buzzing and doing flips as his hand gently touched my body, and I liked it.

I didn't want him to stop. Inside my muscles were begging him to stroke me harder, to wrap his fingers tighter. His touch wasn't hurting me, it wasn't causing me pain. It was soft and delicate, inviting and needed.

No one touched with a tender hand, the only thing I'd felt recently was pain and suffering.

Biting his lower lip, his head lowered. “Then why is your skin so hot right now?”

Cocking my jaw, I clenched my teeth. I wasn't going to answer him, he didn't need to know how much that gentle stroke of my flesh sent fire into my core.

“Are you having trouble finding the words, Ivy?” Shifting his waist, he was right beside me. I could feel the material of his pants brush my thigh. The course fabric scuffed against my skin, sending tingles cascading all over. His scent tugged on my senses, turning my head upside down.

“You did good tonight, you listened for the most part. Besides that little shot off at the end—which you're lucky he didn't just pull the trigger right there.” Bouncing a single finger in the air, he glared at me through hooded lids. “I'm impressed and you should be happy.” Dante's hand drifted up over my hip, cupping my lower belly. “You're shaking.” Watching my face, he tilted his head. “But you're not afraid, are you? Do you like when I touch you?” Turning away from him, I looked down at my feet. “You do, don't you?”

My nipples hardened, scraping the thin material. Goosebumps sprung over my arms, riding my ribs, and making my body shiver. “Stop.”

“Stop what . . .This?”His strong hands slipped higher, tracing my ribs, and gently brushing just under my breast.

Inhaling a sharp breath, my lips parted. “We ca—I won't do this. It's wrong.” I could feel the juice coating my thighs, eager and willing. So fucking willing for him to take me.

I didn't know why, but being cuffed to the bed and at Dante's mercy made me fucking hot. It was so wrong, I knew. It was the worst kind of desire to feel. To want what you know is evil and bad.

But I couldn't shut it off.

“It's only wrong if you don't want it. Tell me what you want, Ivy.”

“I want to go home.” Spitting out the first thing that came to mind, I realized my answer didn't even sound believable.

It slipped out because my mind had been trying to drift to different places so I wasn't here. But my voice wasn't convincing, the answer wasn't strong.

I wanted something else, something more.

“Are you sure about that?” His fingertips ran over my shoulder, curving up my throat. “Is that what you really want?”

No.

I want you to take me.

I want you to give me what I've never had.

I don't want to go back to Remo, I want to choose who I give myself to.

But Dante obviously didn't know about the arrangement between Remo and my father. His entire family thought I was precious to him. They had no idea how wrong they were.

At least that was what I was hoping. If they did know and this was all part of Remo's game, the Pisanis deserved a fucking academy award for their performance.

It was a sweet idea to think I hadn't watched the murder of another, or that I wasn't going to be killed just then. That this was all a play being put on for the amusement of another.

I wasn't that lucky . . .

“Remo won't pay for me.” I wanted him to think I was useless, that my existence here was only a burden on him—because it was. “Just let me go.”