Page 33 of Dove

Before I could move, Maddox was back. His fingers wrapped around my ankle. “Open.”

I rolled to my back and did as he asked. I didn’t know what I expected, but I jolted as wet warmth brushed between my legs. “Relax little dove, just cleaning you up.”

His words soothed me as he wiped the evidence of his brutal fucking from me. He tossed the rag into the laundry basket before reaching for a bottle on the nightstand. I watched with a furrowed brow as he squeezed lotion into his hands. He set the bottle aside again before kneeling next to me. I flinched then whimpered when he rubbed the cooling gel into the welts on my breasts. He caressed me until I was practically withering beneath him, begging for something more.

Maddox smirked down at me. “Roll over,mia amata.”

I obeyed his soft command, rolling to my stomach. I tucked my hands under my chin as I let him perform the same gentle treatment to my abused ass cheeks. Aftercare had never been something he’d done before. Not when I was a toy he wanted to break. But apparently, it was part of the routine when I was the woman he lov—.

Nope. Not thinking about that. Not thinking about how it warmed my chest. Or how unlikely his words were.

I focused on how his fingers worked into my skin. I closed my eyes and let my mind drift as he massaged the tense muscles in my shoulders and neck. This was almost as good as the pain. I felt almost as light. As buzzed as when he hurt me. My mind cleared the longer I sat here. I let him soothe me into a sense of security, however false it might be.

I must have fallen asleep because I woke with a jolt when Maddox pulled one of his shirts over my head. He lifted me into a sitting position as he dressed me like a doll. I was too tired. Too blissed out to argue. I let him take care of me like I was precious. Because that’s how it felt. Like I was a precious item to him.

Maddox lay back on the bed and rearranged my body until my head rested on his chest. His fingers brushed through my hair as we lay there in silence.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked.

“Talk about what, my little dove?” He pressed a kiss into my hair before going back to stroking me.

I tightened my arms around him, waiting for the implosion. “What Tristan said.”

“He’s afigliodiputtana,and you should’ve let me kill him.”

“You can’t kill him because he told you the truth.” I whispered.

Maddox fisted my hair and yanked my head back; just the right side of painful. I opened my mouth a gasp as I saw the furious expression on his face. “What truth, Kincaid?”

I licked my lips as I stared at him. His strong jaw was tensed. His perfect lips pressed in a hard line. A furrow creased above his piercing blue eyes. So handsome. Perfection hiding a demon.

“That I’m—“

“If you say anything other than ‘my woman’ or ‘my perfect little dove,’ I will take you back into that closet until your voice is so hoarse from screaming you won’t be able to speak at all.” His blue eyes burned into me, daring me to disagree.

Why did I want to push him? Why did I want to see what would happen if I said I was his slut? If I confirmed what Tristan said was true. It was stupid. It was the depraved part of me wanting to play with the sickness in him.

“It’s not normal.” I said instead. “What we have, how I got here, it’s not how normal people start relationships.”

“Fuck normal.” His voice was harsh as he gave my hair a small tug. “You want to be normal. You want to walk around like all the otherstronzosin the world, wishing for a little bit of what we have.”

“Wh-what do we have?” I whispered as I pulled from his hold until I was once again curled into his body. I couldn’t look into his eyes anymore. Couldn’t see that resolve in his expression. The belief that what we had made sense. That we were meant to be together. I burrowed my face against his neck, inhaling his smoky scent as the rumble of his voice vibrated through me.

“Happiness. We’re not bound by what people think. We’re not living to fit into their ideal of what a relationship or sex should be. We’re free to do what we want. To express ourselves in ways that fill our souls.”

When he said it like that, it made us sound passionate. Rebellious. Like we were giving the world a middle finger. Like we didn’t care about their judgment.

I wanted what he said. I wanted to feel free like that. But I didn’t. He might feel like he wasn’t being judged. But I was. I wasn’t free. I was bound. Bound by a world that expected women to act in a certain way. Want certain things.

But did I want them? And if I got them, would I be happy?

Would I be happier with a normal man? Some suit who worked nine to five. Who fucked me quietly and sweetly? Would I miss Maddox? Miss the pain?

I hated that I knew the answer.

My mother had told me to find what made me happy, but I don’t think she pictured this. That I wanted a man who was bad for me in every way possible. That his world was dangerous to my very existence. That he was dangerous. To my mind. My body. My life.

“I should’ve killed them both.” Maddox grumbled when I sat silent for too long.