Page 68 of Ruthless God

“How did you think this marriage was going to go?” I asked him back.

Another small smile touched his lips. It shouldn’t make me feel like I had won something whenever he smiled at me, but Lord, it did.

“I haven’t really thought about it. I haven’t really thought much about marriage, to be honest.”

He grabbed my hand and turned it on the table so that my palm was facing up toward the ceiling. His fingers gently glided across the skin there before reaching down to my wrist. My pulse jumped from the contact.

“But we are married. Why not make the best of this situation?”

“What do you mean?”

“Exactly that.” He pressed his palm down on mine, and the heavy weight of his hand helped keep me focused on the present. “Do you like it when I touch you?”

The turn of the question was so abrupt that it took me a moment to fully realize what he had asked. When I did, I could feel my cheeks reddening.

“W-What?”

His eyes glinted with dark amusement. “I know you heard me,principessa.”

I grabbed a glass of water and took a sip, delaying answering him. How did he expect me to answer a question like that?

I placed the glass down slowly and took in Massimo. He was a picture of ease.

“It’s a simple question,principessa.”

Easy for him to say. I nodded, my cheeks feeling tight.

Another tap of his finger on the table drew my attention to it. I took in the shape, the huge masculine form of his fingers, his short nails, tan skin, and even the hair around his fingers.

“You want to try something different? Something to help with your shyness around me?”

“Something different?”

He nodded, his eyes taking on a dark, hungry look that I was getting familiar with.

“Give me control.”

My breath caught. “Control? Is that what you want?”

That shouldn’t surprise me. I’d gotten a glimpse of it every so often.

“Yes,” he answered measuredly. “But only if you trust me enough to give it. To know I wouldn’t push you past what you can handle.”

He was giving me an option? I blinked. “And if I say I’m not there yet?”

He shot me a devilish smile. “Then it would be my privilege to show you that you can. No matter how long that takes.”

“Even years?”

He grimaced. “Even then, though, I hope it wouldn’t take that long. Do you really have that low of an opinion of me that you think you wouldn’t be able to trust me for years to come?”

He had a point. And I didn’t have a low opinion of him at all. He had actually treated me far kinder than anyone I had ever met.

“And what would it entail? Me giving you control?”

“Everything. I would decide everything. When and where we sleep. What you wear. When we would be intimate. How I want you to touch me.” His voice turned sensual. “How I would touch you.”

“I don’t get a say?”