Christmas Vows with the Devil

12. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

Dante

I wake in a haze, the pain medication clouding my mind and vision.

The sky outside my bedroom window is awash with purple and pink hues, telling me I’ve been asleep for most of the day.

After the Vitale’s personal doctor stopped by and removed the bullet from my side, I ate a stack of Aunt Carla’s pancakes—personally delivered by the chef herself.

I’m lying in bed, waiting for the medication to fully kick in and knock me out, but my mind had other ideas.

It isn’t the pain keeping me awake. It’s Gia.

Seeing her terror-stricken face during the attack did something to me. I’ve never been so desperate to protect another human before, not even my right-hand man or closest family. The drive to keep Gia safe was so strong it scared me—but it fueled me, too.

Now, her presence lingers in every corner of this room, clawing at my control, gnawing at my thoughts. I should be focusing on finding out who’s behind the attack, but instead, I’m dreaming of her.

Flashes of Gia’s fear early this morning mingle with her laughing in the kitchen. Goddamn, I missed that laugh. I shift in the bed, grimacing as the movement agitates my stitches. A knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts.

“Come in,” I grunt, priming myself for more of Aunt Carla’s aggressive flirting.

Instead, Gia steps in, her eyes darting to my bandaged torso, then back to my face. She shuts the door behind her softly, like she’s afraid of waking a sleeping monster. I sit up a little, propping myself against the headboard. My heart pounds with every step she takes closer.

“Gia. You’re the last person I was expecting.”

“Really?” She stops for a second, cocking her eyebrow at me. “Has the Dante Manzo fan club been bothering you today?”

“Mostly Aunt Carla and her never-ending buffet of food and admiration.”

She snorts, gazing at me softly. Softness . That’s something else I haven’t seen on Gia’s face in a long time.

“Dante,” she starts, her voice wavering. "I just...I wanted to thank you. For helping my family."

I raise an eyebrow, keeping my expression neutral. “I didn’t do it for them.”

“I know.”

She’s so close I can smell the heady mix of vanilla and jasmine that always surrounds her. The scent is so nostalgic and intoxicating that I groan, falling headfirst into memories from years ago.

Gia’s pale, creamy arms wrapped around my shoulders. My nose buried in her neck, my cock deep inside her. And that scent, swirling all around me.

Suddenly, the room feels too small, the air too thick. My chest tightens as she perches daintily on the bed, looking concerned.

“How much pain are you in?” she asks. “And don’t lie.”

“I can barely feel the bullet wound.”

“Then what’s wrong?” Her gaze travels across my exposed torso, searching for another source of pain.

“You, Gia,” I say between clenched teeth. “You’re driving me fucking crazy.”

I watch her face go from stunned to embarrassed to…pleased? She cocks her head to the side, waves of raven hair falling over her shoulder. Her perfect, rosy lips slip into a playful smile, her eyes twinkling.

“Me? I haven’t done a single thing.”

“Maybe you should,” I say, trailing my fingers across her hand, encircling her wrist.

She hesitates, and I can see the war playing out in her mind. She’s analyzing every possible outcome and consequence, trying to make the right decision. But there’s no right or wrong here, there’s only unfinished business.

“What would you like me to do?” she whispers, her voice breathy and dripping with the lust she’s trying so hard to fight.

We’re so close now, her lips just inches away from mine. The tension and our connection pull us closer and closer together like a magnet. We’ve been circling around this for days now, doing this painful back-and-forth dance. And I, for one, am tired of it.

“Kiss me before the Grim Reaper shows up.”

She lets out a surprised laugh, but her eyes quickly darken, and that sultry little smile is back. She reaches out to touch my face tentatively, trailing her fingers across my cheekbone. Moving achingly slowly, she leans closer.

I feel her breath skate across my lips. She smells like coffee and cinnamon. Our lips meet in a soft, delicate kiss. I wait for her to panic, to pull away, but she doesn’t. She leans in closer, deepening the kiss instead.

I fight every urge to throw her onto the bed and rip off her clothes like a Neanderthal. I’m half-curious about how far she’ll take this, but also aware that she needs to feel in control right now.

Her tongue glides against mine playfully, and I feel the corner of her mouth curl up in a little smirk. This is the Gia I know.

I wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her closer to me. She’s curled up against me now, deepening her kisses, softly trailing her fingertips across my chest. I brush my fingers down her spine, feeling her shiver underneath my touch.

She stills suddenly, taking those delicious lips away from mine. I meet her eyes, deep pools of forest green swirling with hesitation, fear, lust, and wonder.

She’s still not sure.

“I think you’ve chased away the Reaper,” I say lightly, giving her an easy way out. She could laugh and slip out of the room right now and we’d be exactly where we left off.

Taking a deep breath, she nods, sliding off the bed and heading toward the door.

No. Don’t leave.

She reaches for the handle, looking over her shoulder at me. And suddenly, that devilish smile is back. The lock clicks shut.

Slowly, she makes her way over to me. My breath hitches, the pain of the bullet wound quickly receding, replaced with the pain of wanting her. Needing her.

She’s smiling like a siren, but her eyes are soft, lost in the nostalgia of who we used to be. She slips onto the bed, settling in my arms again. Like she was meant to fit perfectly against me. My fingers thread through her hair, tilting those delicious lips up to mine.

She’s trailing her fingers across my chest again, tracing the tattoos as if by memory. Suddenly, she breaks the kiss and leans up on her elbow. Her hair tumbles from my fingers and I feel as if my life force has been rudely snatched from my hands.

“You still have this?” A trace of disbelief peppers her voice. Her thumb grazes the tiny G tattooed above my heart reverently, lovingly.

“I told you,” I say, grabbing her chin softly, forcing her to meet my gaze. “Always.”

“Always,” she echoes, leaning down to place a soft kiss on the G. As much as I want her to continue, to trail her soft kisses lower and lower, I need to know first.

“And yours? You still have it?”

She blushes, laughing softly. “Always.”

With one swift move, her sweater is on the other side of the room and my soul leaves my body. The inky waves of her hair spill over her shoulders, framing her pale tits perfectly. Dark, rosy nipples pucker against the coolness of the room, a stark contrast to her burning cheeks.

“Here.” She traces the tiny L on her ribcage, just under the very lickable curve of her breast. “Always.”

I use every last inch of control I have to tear my eyes away from her chest and meet her gaze.

Intense.

Fiery.

She wants this as much as I do.

The world stops moving, and the room starts spinning. I’ve dreamed of this moment for six goddamn years. Every night, every day, consumed by the scent, the feeling of Gia. And now, she’s in front of me, looking like she’s ready to devour me.

Like a match strike, everything jolts into hyper-speed. She straddles me, capturing my mouth. Gone are the soft, languid kisses. This is the touch of a woman who’s going to get exactly what she wants. All my control breaks.

My hands drift up to her breasts, softly kneading the tender flesh. She moans, pushing them harder into my open palms. I capture one pert nipple, pinching it a little too hard—the way I know she likes.

That seems to light a fire within her and she’s arching her back, grinding against me like a heathen. Too many clothes, there’s too many fucking clothes on her.

My fingers leave her breasts, and she pouts, biting my lip, tugging at it to get more of what she wants. She quickly changes her tune when she realizes I’m working hard to unbutton her jeans and helps me out.

Instead of rolling off the bed, she stands with me between her feet, gazing down at me. Eyes clouded with lust, hair wild, she slowly slips off her jeans. Only a tiny scrap of pink fabric separates us now, and she slides that off as well.

There’s nothing more powerful than the woman you crave, standing over you, naked and on display for your pleasure. I moan, sliding a hand under the mussed-up sheets to stroke myself. I’m already hard as fuck, and I can’t help myself.

She moves to join me, but I stop her. I need to appreciate her, to worship her properly.

“Touch yourself,” I command, my voice sounding foreign to my own ears.

Tiny goosebumps break out across her arms and legs, and I can practically feel the shiver running through her. She gasps softly, shooting me a questioning look.

“Like this?”

“Yes,” I encourage her, stroking my raging cock. “Just like that. Give me a show.”

She laughs, nervously tossing the hair I’ll be pulling later over her shoulder, but her eyes are glowing. Slowly, she slides her fingers down her neck and across her chest. She’s moving at a snail’s pace, and it’s driving me crazy.

She cups her tits, softly pinching and twisting those luscious, flushed nipples. I moan inadvertently, a bead of pre-cum already coating my cock, my hand slick as I languidly stroke up and down. Meeting my energy, she brings two fingers to her open mouth and sucks, getting them nice and wet.

Towering over me, with a foot on each side of my torso, she slips her dripping fingers between her thighs and moans. The visual is so visceral that I need to stop touching myself, gripping her ankles instead.

“Show me, Gia.” I move her ankles apart more, giving me a clear view of her perfect, wet pussy. Her fingers make slow circles around her clit as she throws her head back, moaning softly.

God, how I ache to touch her. To taste her. I want that pussy to make a mess of my face, to suffocate me.

Without warning, I yank her down on top of me, and she squeals in shock. Her hands fly to the headboard to steady herself. I slip my hands under her ass and guide her sweet core to my mouth.

I should take my time, enjoy the nirvana I’m about to enter, but nothing can stop me now.

The first lick is heaven, and she gasps, moaning my name. My control breaks and I’m lapping up her sweetness like it’s the juiciest peach at the market. My name sounds like a prayer on her lips.

“Dante. Dante. Dante. Don’t stop. Dante, please.” She’s begging now, grinding against my mouth, greedy and determined to get her release.

In that moment, I need her more than anything in the world. More than air. More than water.

I grip her waist, sliding her away from my lips, toward my hips. She huffs impatiently, so close to her orgasm.

“Not yet,” I growl, the pain of needing her taking control. “I need to feel you. To be inside you.”

Our eyes connect for a brief second as she reaches for me, solid and pulsing for her. I know that look in her eyes.

Once we cross this line, everything changes.

She leans down, capturing my lips in a tender kiss. Despite our history, I feel love in that kiss.

As soon as the thought enters, it’s replaced by the sensation of Gia’s slick pussy sliding onto me. She’s taking me excruciatingly slowly, and it takes all my power not to grab her hips and slam her down.

Her eyes are half-closed, head thrown back in ecstasy. A drawn-out low moan escapes her lips, and the air rushes out of my lungs. She’s so fucking beautiful.

Then she’s riding me, taking control of her pleasure, swirling her hips, grinding on me, as she slides up and down my length.

“That’s my good girl.”

She moans, increasing her speed. Vanilla and jasmine cloud my nostrils as her soft hair brushes my chest with every movement. Her heady moans are driving me closer and closer. Her pussy, so hot and wet, clutches me, pulling me deeper and deeper.

I’m a goner for Gia Vitale.

“Don’t hold back, baby,” I growl, holding back myself. “Show me how beautiful you look when you cum.”

“Dante, please.”

“That’s right, Gia. Let go. Let me see.”

She reaches the peak, my name on her lips like a chant. I feel her let go, soaking me, slowly riding out her climax. She collapses on my chest, exhausted, satisfied, spent.

I let her take control. To make herself feel comfortable in an uncomfortable situation.

Now, it’s my turn.

She leans up to kiss me, panting, already giving in to the sweetness of sleep. But there won’t be any sleep tonight, not with Gia’s warm, glistening body in my bed.

I tilt her chin up, grinning like the devil I am. Il Diavolo , still.

“I’m not done with you yet.”