Owned by the Italian Mafia Boss: Chapter 11

It’s been a stressful night, but Delilah made me proud throughout the evening’s chaotic events. I had doubts whether she’d be able to handle this life, but I think she was made for it. She’s a quick thinker, decisive, and thrives under pressure. Those qualities will make her a fantastic doctor.

But she didn’t expect to be a doctor so soon, and the trauma she’s had to endure tonight is more than the average person could have handled.

The door is open to the bedroom, and I turn my body to the side, stepping into the space. With my hip, I ease the door shut.

“I’m so proud of you,” I tell her, lifting her so I can kiss her forehead. “You did so well tonight. I know it wasn’t easy.” I keep my tone soft, so she doesn’t feel afraid.

Something has shifted between us since the kiss in the library. She’s softer toward me, more accepting. There’s more give with her. Whatever slack she’s feeling for me right now, I’m going to take it, and I’m going to hold onto it, run with it.

“I can still smell his skin burning,” she whimpers as I place her on the vanity. Her skin is so pale, like Ari’s but from shock and sickness rather than blood loss. She has dark circles under her eyes and dried blood on her hands. She holds them out in front of her, and they shake uncontrollably. She inhales deep, fast, and in a panic; her watery gaze meets mine.

“I know, Sweetling. I know.” I undress her, tugging the shirt—my shirt—over her head, revealing her bare breasts. They are perfect. All I want to do is show her body the attention she deserves, but I know now is not the time. She’s still in the beginning stages of trust when it comes to me. I need to show her she can.

I tug off her panties, tossing them to the floor. When she’s naked, I undress, too, dropping my clothes next to hers. I make a mental note to burn them later.

After turning on the shower, I check the temperature of the water. When I’m satisfied, I lift her from the counter and carry her into the shower. The water sprays my back, and I keep her body tucked against mine.

Her slick skin slides against mine, and I can’t help my body’s natural reaction.

My cock hardens and settles between the crease of her ass as I set her down. She’s frozen in place, holding her hands to her chest, and she begins to shiver. I switch spots so she can be under the hot spray and begin to wash her. Squirting the soap I bought her in my hands, the lavender rose scent joins the steam, and I immediately wash her hands first. The water turns red, at first, then fades to pink. I clean under her nails, too, getting the blood that made its way under when she dug into the meat of Ari’s body to get the bullet.

I squeeze more body wash in my hands and wash her hands again, ensuring I wash away all the blood before I grab the loofah.

“You’re so lovely, Sweetling,” I croon, wanting her to feel better, even in the smallest way.

Yet she doesn’t move.

She doesn’t acknowledge my existence at all. She stares blankly at the floor, hair hanging over her shoulders like oil spilling across the ocean.

I scrub her entire body, careful not to let my eyes linger too long on her perky breasts or the strawberry blush of her tight nipples. Her body is very distracting, and I want nothing more than to kiss the middle of her stomach, praising it with love so she will carry my body without risk.

“I’m going to clean between your legs, but I promise I won’t do anything else.”

She doesn’t look at me.

“Sweetling,” I kiss the side of her cheek to get her attention, “I need you to tell me it’s okay.”

She holds her hands to her chest and widens her stance, giving me a slight nod.

“Okay, I promise, I won’t do anything else,” I say again, looking directly into her eyes. Her lashes are dark spikes from the water, but her pupils are black pearls. I reach down and clean her, easing the loofah with a delicate touch.

I’ve never bathed a woman before. This is a first for me, and I refuse to do anything that makes her uncomfortable.

My cock is aching, weighted, and heavy between my legs, wanting nothing more than to ease through her virginity and spill inside her, but she needs to trust me before that happens.

She gasps when she finally sees my arousal, but I tilt her chin up with my fingers and shake my head, stealing a kiss from her immobile lips.

“This isn’t about sex. I want to take care of you. I can’t hide what your body does to me, but I will not act on it. You have my word.” I rinse the loofah out and grab the tea tree oil shampoo, filling the middle of my palm.

After gathering her hair from her shoulders, I wash the strands and massage her scalp. She groans and the sound goes straight to my cock. It still isn’t enough to make me lose focus—when it comes to Delilah, nothing will.

“Feels good,” she finally speaks, and I breathe easier knowing she’s aware of her surroundings and what’s happening.

I bend down to taste her shoulder, giving her a quick kiss. “I’m glad. You did very well tonight. I know it was a shock, but you handled it with grace.”

“I threw up.”

“I also threw up the first time I smelled burnt flesh. It’s a smell you will never forget.”

She gags again. “Please, don’t bring it up.”

“Anything, Sweetling.” I continue to massage her head, and her body falls back against me, back to my chest and round cheeks to my cock. No other woman has ever affected me like this. I’ve never cared about comfort before. No one else has ever mattered.

She’s all consuming.

Every aspect of how I think, how I feel, how I make decisions all revolve around her.

I rinse her hair, add conditioner and rinse it away, then make quick work of washing myself before I turn the water off. I grab towels from the heated shelves and wrap one around her, then myself. I use another to squeeze the water from her hair.

“Come on, let’s go to bed, Sweetling.”

“But…” Her eyes flick down to the tent in my towel.

I shake my head. “We need to sleep. Let me hold you, so I know you’re safe. Nothing else.”

I finish drying us off, grabbing a brush for her hair, then toss the towels aside and draw her into bed with me.

She comes without hesitation.

“Turn around. I don’t want you to wake up with a nest.” I wave the brush in the air, and she complies. I know if she were in her right state of mind, she’d snatch the brush from me and comb out her own hair because she’s so damn insistent on not needing me.

I start at her ends, easing the comb through her hair.

I think I’m doing it right. I’ve never brushed a woman’s hair before. I’m finding that even though I’m not a saint, I’m still experiencing first times with Delilah.

“Have you done this before?” the question was monotone and tired.

“Is it obvious that?” I’m trying to be as gentle as possible. The last thing I want to do is hurt her.

“I’m just wondering.” She turns her chin to her shoulder. “I like that you haven’t. It feels good. Thank you for taking care of me.”

“It’s a pleasure I find great satisfaction in, Sweetling.”

We fall into a comfortable silence, and I know that in this room, at this moment, things are very different. Tomorrow will be a new day, and the softness of this moment will be gone. I’ll be back to needing her glued to my side while she fights me every step of the way.

I’ll be turned on half the time and want to strangle her the other half.

It’s a concoction I find highly intoxicating.

When all the knots are gone, I place the comb on the bed and lie her down, tucking the covers up to her chin.

Then, and only then, do I get settled in bed.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes, tears in her voice. “I’ve never done anything like that before. You must think I’m so weak.”

Pulling her close to me, I nuzzle my chin against the curve of her shoulder. “The opposite because even terrified, you faced fear. You are brave in a world that constantly tests someone’s courage. You are not weak. Weak is a mindset, and you, my Sweetling, have the strongest mindset I’ve come across in a very long time.”

Yet she is becoming my weakness.