Page 57 of Vows of Blood

She hesitates for just a heartbeat, then her fingers are in my hair, and she's kissing me back.

It tastes like victory.

Sienna fits against me perfectly. Her body remembers mine, even if her mind is still fighting it, still hanging onto the rage in her heart.

I pull her closer, one hand splayed possessively across the small of her back, and she makes a sound in the back of her throat that goes straight to my cock.

When she finally pulls back, lips swollen and lids heavy, I don't let her go far, but I also don’t push her further. At least, not yet.

"Think about it." I rest my forehead against hers before turning her away with a reluctant growl, scooping her back against my chest and wrapping her up in my arms. "Now, sleep. We could both use it."

She twists to look over her shoulder at me, perplexed but exhausted, physically and emotionally. Then she relaxes, settling against me, her back to me, my arm draped over her waist, and one leg now over hers. Tangled together.

Exactly how we used to sleep.

Neither of us speaks again after that, lost in our own thoughts of what was, what could have been, and whether the future I’m proposing will ruin us both all over again.

17

SIENNA

Iwake up slowly, drifting through layers of warmth and softness, and for a moment, I don't remember where I am. I’m transported back to my cozy apartment off-campus, a lazy Sunday morning, as the warmth and heady masculine scent of the man I love brings a smile to my face.

Practically purring, I snuggle back further into him, the weight of an arm across my waist tightening around me and pulling me closer. Solid heat of a body pressed against my back. The slow, steady rhythm of breathing that isn't mine. It all feels so good, too good, in fact.

As reality disturbs the memory, I realize this isn’t ten years ago, that we’re not still madly in love, and we couldn’t be further from our carefree college life, I cling onto that alternate reality. The sliding door version of what could have been if things had gone differently.

Luca.

I keep my eyes closed, buying myself time to think. To remember.

"I know you're awake." His voice is thick with sleep, lips brushing against my ear.

A shiver runs through me that has nothing to do with cold as his fingers curl into my flesh and prevent me from moving even an inch away from him.

I open them.

Weak morning light floods the room. The sheets beneath me are impossibly smooth, the mattress cradling my body like a cloud. I've never slept on anything this comfortable in my life.

Slowly, I turn in his arms and find him watching me.

He looks unfairly good for someone who’s barely slept. The dark stubble that was a shadow last night now covers his jaw, thicker than before. His rich brown hair is messy and falling across his face in a way that makes my fingers itch to push it back. And his eyes, those chocolate eyes that used to look at me like I was the only person in the world, are studying my face with an intensity I remember well.

"How long have you been awake?" I ask, suddenly shy around the man who knows me better than anyone ever has.

"A while. Thinking." His thumb traces absent circles on my hip, just as he did last night, the touch light enough to be harmless, although it isn't. He knows exactly how ticklish I am, how sensitive that spot is, and how much I always loved it when he touched me there. "About my offer."

I attempt to pull back slightly, putting a few inches of space between us, though it’s almost impossible with his arm still locked around my waist.

"Luca, I don’t think it’s a good idea."

His expression doesn't change. "We already established that."

He’s infuriatingly unbothered and calm considering the magnitude of the decision he’s asking me to make.

I shake my head, struggling to find the words. "I'm a waitress. I don't know the first thing about being... a mafia wife. I get freaked out if I even see a gun."

With an indulgent sigh, he widens the circles he’s making with his thumb, pushing the hem of my top even higher, exposing my stomach. "You're stronger than you give yourself credit for. When Kate was shot, you didn’t even panic."