Forced To Be The Mafia King's Bride (by Oma Green) novel Chapter 224

Anna's POV

The bathroom was massive, all gleaming marble expensive flooring and fixtures.

The sunken tub could easily fit four people. Dante set me down gently on the edge while he turned on the water, testing the temperature with his hand.

"Not too hot," he murmured, adjusting the taps with careful precision. "Don't want to irritate anything."

I watched him move around the bathroom with confident efficiency, adding expensive bath salts that smelled like lavender and vanilla.

Adjusting the water temperature repeatedly. Laying out fluffy white towels.

This version of Dante, attentive and caring, focused entirely on my comfort, made my heart ache in the best way.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked, catching me staring.

"You," I admitted. "How you can be so many different things. Last night you were demanding, possessive, rough in the best way. And now..."

I gestured at the bath. "Now you're being so gentle. So caring. It's kind of fascinating."

"I'm whatever you need me to be," he said simply, helping me stand. His fingers hooked into the waistband of my panties, the only thing I was wearing, and slowly slid them down my legs.

His knuckles brushed against my skin, intentional and teasing. "In bed, I'm in total control. The man who owns your pleasure."

His eyes raked over my naked body, possessive and hungry, making me feel like the most desirable woman in the world. "But outside of bed, I'm your protector. Your caretaker. The man who makes sure you're safe, comfortable, and cared for."

"And which one are you now?" I asked breathlessly, my pulse quickening under his intense gaze.

"Both." He lifted me into the tub, his hands supporting me as I lowered myself into the warm water. "I'm taking care of you because your body needs it. But I'm also staking my claim by being the only one who gets to touch and see you like this."

I sighed as the heat seeped into my aching muscles, soothing the soreness between my thighs. "This feels amazing."

"Good." He settled on the edge of the tub, grabbing a washcloth and expensive soap. "Lean back and let me wash you."

"You really don't have to..."

"I want to." His tone left no room for argument. "Every inch of you is mine to worship, to care for, to touch. Let me do this, Gianna."

I relaxed back against the cool marble, letting him take control.

His hands were gentle but thorough, washing my arms, my shoulders, my collarbone.

When he reached my breasts, his touch turned even more tender. His palms cupped them, thumbs brushing over my nipples in slow circles that made my breath catch.

"You marked me," I murmured, looking down at the array of hickeys scattered across my chest, dark purple against my pale skin.

"I did." There was no apology in his voice, only deep satisfaction. "I wanted everyone to know you're taken."

"Possessive much?"

"When it comes to you?" His thumb brushed over my nipple again, making me gasp. "Absolutely. Gianna Deluca. You're mine to protect, mine to pleasure, mine to mark."

"Deluca," I repeated, testing the name on my tongue. "I'm still getting used to that."

"Better get used to it fast," he murmured, washing down my stomach with slow strokes. "Because that's who you are now. My wife. The queen to my king."

His hands moved lower, over my hips, down my thighs. I tensed as he approached the apex of my legs, knowing how sore I still was there.

"Relax," he said softly, his voice soothing. "I'm just going to clean you, nothing more. I promise."

I forced myself to relax as his soapy hands moved between my thighs. His touch was careful at first, gentle, but even so, I couldn't help the small wince when his fingers brushed against my swollen, sensitive flesh.

He was washing my slit with gentle strokes, and despite the soreness, heat spread through me.

My body responded instantly, growing wet under his touch.

"Fuck," he muttered, feeling the slickness that had nothing to do with the bathwater. "Even sore, you get wet for me."

"I can't help it," I whispered, my cheeks flushing. "Your hands on me..."

His fingers lingered, stroking along my slit with maddening gentleness. Then one finger teased my entrance, just barely pressing against the swollen opening.

I winced, the ache flaring into real discomfort.

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