I stare at her in shock. To speak to me like this, so candidly, so confidently—it takes guts. I know she means what she says.
“I only say that,” she whispers, taking my hand, pressing it to her mouth, “because I see that you have so much more. I came here to serve you. Now I see that you’re worthy of that. I see that you will make a good husband, a good father. And I want that with you, Santo. I want that future. I want to help you rebuild the Amata name, the Amata family. But for us to have that future, you have to stay alive. Promise me.”
This girl is a fucking wonder. Her huge, luminous eyes. Her chin, wobbling with fear, with grief, forme.
I kiss her palm, the vulnerable curve of her wrist. I touch her ribs, pliant and small beneath my rough hands. I press her shoulder blades to the wall and kiss her neck, savoring the sound of her breath catching.
We don’t love one another. We’re strangers. But could we be more, in this future she speaks of? Could we be more than anger and passion and fire?
A family?
“I promise,” I say against her ear, even though I don’t mean the words, I can’t mean them. Nothing is guaranteed. I say it because I need her fear to dissolve, because I need to hear the sigh of relief that feathers from her rosebud lips. “I promise, Dani.”
Chapter 13
Dani
He lays me down, trailing his tongue down my stomach, running hot hands over my neck, my breasts, my hips. I let the world around us fizzle and dissolve and fade. I let my fear burn to ash inside of me. Let him breathe life into the embers.
I hate Santo Amata. My hatred burns inside of me as he awakens my body, my angry heart.
I hate him, because I don’t hate him at all. Because he’s a man of passion, a man I want to be worthy of. His love for his brother is so beautiful and pure. But would he still die to avenge him? Would he let go of this flower that is just blooming between us?
He kisses me, tongue slow and stroking as he eases his stiff length between my legs. Everything about him burns. His skin, his kiss, his anger. I want it to devour me.
I moan, arching my back as he enters me. Slow. Purposeful. Friction glitters between us, the weight of his powerful body pressing against me. I let my palms explore his back, his shoulders, his ribs. I feel his beating heart as he makes love to me.
That future I spoke of—I can see it now. So real. More real than my life before this place, before him. I realize, as I’m in his arms, as his body burns against mine, that I could do this forever. I want him. This life. I want to be the woman I am when I’m with him.
Santo cradles me, pleasure hitching his breath. He buries himself deep inside of me, hard. I cry out, wrapping my thighs around his hips, taking him over and over, the pleasure building slow and delicious.
He kisses my neck, tongue stroking the tender place beneath my jaw. His palm spreads against the small of my back, pinning me to him as he pumps himself in and out of me. I hope, suddenly, that this will give me a child. That his seed will grow inside of me, and we can start that dreamlike future right now, tonight.
Before I lose him.
Fear tightens inside me, tears welling.
“Don’t,” Santo whispers, kissing my cheek where one falls. “Don’t cry, Dani. I’m here.”
And he is. In this moment, he belongs to me, and I belong to him. I hold him, sinking my fingers into his shoulders as he plunges himself inside of me, making me whole. My cries grow louder, desperate, bouncing off the old stone walls. I hear myself scream his name.
He clutches my hips, groaning as he comes inside me, kissing me hard. I’m weak in his arms, pliant with ecstasy. It explodes within me, setting every nerve ending off, blinding and unstoppable, like a firework. Quick as it came, it’s fading, and I’m weak, collapsing in his arms. Gasping for breath.
Santo rests on top of me. I feel his heart beating against mine.This could be the last night.
“Again,” I whisper, and he gives me one of those rare, dangerous smiles, and kisses me once more.
* * *
Was it a dream?
I stretch, waking, smiling. The room is deliciously warm, and I’m remembering. Everything. The snowy park, the desperation of our bodies. The way he kissed me last night, the way he held me. How many times did we make love, passionate and foolish as teenagers, unable to keep our hands off each other? How many times did he bring me to climax?
Heat spreads between my legs, up the back of my neck. I can’t believe I’d never been with a man until now. I had no idea what I was missing. I’d heard so many college friends and coworkers gripe about bad sex, inexperienced boyfriends, the inability to have an orgasm. Maybe, in a way, I’m lucky. I have a feeling Santo isn’t the ordinary bedroom experience.
I reach for him, and jolt.
His side of the bed is cold. Empty.
