Page 94 of Deal with the Devil
Her question hangs in the air for a moment as I debate if it’s worth answering.
She’s not wrong to ask, and shedoesdeserve the truth.
But the truth carries consequences, and I’m not sure how much more she can bear after what she’s already been through with her flare-up.
I settle on keeping things ambiguous for now. Not for him but for her.
“Rafael has always felt a connection to you for a reason, dolcezza,” I say slowly. “But I’m beginning to realize… so do I. Maybe he and I are not so different after all.”
“What does that mean? You’re not the same person. Not really.”
“Perhaps not. But we were shaped by the same experiences. Our mother was murdered too. Taken from us, just like yours was taken from you.”
Her lips part, confusion knitting her brows. “Why hasn’t he ever told me that?”
“It’s what set him on the path that led here. And maybe… maybe a part of him doesn’t even remember it the way he once did. Memory’s funny like that. When something hurts enough, the mind finds ways to bury it. It doesn’t matter what it is. Our minds work in mysterious ways.”
I rise from the edge of the bed and move over toward her side. Earlier I’d resisted the urge to stroke her hair, but I don’t even bother trying now. My hand reaches out for a gentle caress of her hair, brushing it away from her brow in a slow, soothing motion.
“Rest now, dolcezza. You need it. I’ll be back soon to check on you.”
I linger a moment too long, fingers slipping through her silky, straightened strands in unthinking strokes.
She looks up at me, lashes fluttering and dark eyes shining, and it stops me cold.
Once again I’m left struck by Portia James and the instant effect she has on me.
And suddenly I know I won’t be able to resist.
My head dips before I even make the choice, drawn to her like gravity’s shifted. She tilts her chin up toward me. Our lips meet in the middle, sliding together in a gentle, hesitant kiss.
She’s soft and warm and pleasant in a way that’s different from the other times I’ve kissed her, where lust was ruling me and I took her hard and rough.
This time I’m able to savor how the shape of her plump lips fit against mine.
How warm she is against me, so pliant and supple as I kiss her. It makes me regret not noticing these things sooner; not taking the time to go so slow, experience these kinds of moments together.
When I finally draw back, it’s with reluctance, the loss of her mouth feeling wrong. Her eyes flutter open slowly, looking more dazed than before, and I trace the curve of her bottom lip with my thumb.
She seems like she’s forgotten where she is. Truthfully, I think I have too. Without a word, I pull away and walk out the door before I do something even more foolish.
24
PORTIA
It wasn’tthe kiss itself that undid me—it was how careful it was. How gentle and deliberate he was, like he didn’t want to hurt me for once.
The moment was tender and unexpected, a kiss between two lovers, and it left me stunned that a man so cruel could be so soft. It seemed like Il Diavolo had finally realized many of his ways were doing me harm, and he was truly remorseful for it. He was concerned about my well-being and wanted to make sure I was okay.
As his lips pressed against mine, I let him.
I didn’t turn away, didn’t slap him or curse him out or remind him of all the ways he’s made my life a living hell over the past couple weeks. I tilted my chin up, let my lips brush his, and closed my eyes against the sudden flutter in my chest.
For that single moment, I didn’t feel like a pawn or a prisoner anymore.
It was simply a small, tender moment between two people whose relationship was such in a gray area, I didn’t know what to begin calling it.
I sleep late into the morning after he leaves the room, lulled by the pain meds, the residual heat from the pad draped across my abdomen, and the exhaustion from everything I’ve been through over the past twelve hours.
