Page 80 of Hostile Vows
He isn’t fixing a problem or simply presenting a helping hand; he’s practically worshiping me without a sexual act or unwanted violation. His sole focus is intense and undivided. His touch is extraordinarily gentle—unlike anything I’ve ever known from him.
In this moment, between husband and wife, he isn’t playing a game of seduction or wearing a killer's crown; he’s being himself. The thoughtful man behind the violence and illegal activity. He’s just André—the charming side of him that I could easily adore. And I do. With all of my foolish heart.
What's even more unsettling is how it makes me feel—as if I could really be his—the only woman, his wife to have and to hold, in sickness and in health.
“Is it in properly?” he asks the neat mound at his eye level. I nod, biting my lower lip as I hum my approval. He rises tall before me, so I have to lift my chin to meet his gaze. “I’m sorry, Sin. I didn’t mean to scare you. My head was fucked.”
“Well, you did. Which makes it difficult to trust you.”
He doesn’t speak. Instead, he puts an arm around my shoulder and tugs me neatly to his side. “We both need sleep. Let’s go to bed for a few hours.”
André ushers me into the dimly lit bedroom, his pace slow and steady to balance me. My phone sits on the nightstand glowing 8:30 a.m. when we reach the bed. He shakes out two anti-inflammatory pills from an orange tube and offers them to me with a glass of fresh water. I don’t argue when he lifts the duvet and gestures for me to climb in, or when he rounds the bed and slips in beside me. Nor do I object when he hauls me onto his bare chest and holds me there. I can’t explain how contentment eases my anger or the heat of skin soothes my aches and pains. Lying there, on top of him, skin to skin, is the very spot where I belong.
My cheek rests on his shoulder, the quick pace of his heart rate thudding loudly in my ear.
He runs his fingers along my arm. “Wear your wedding ring from now on.”
I’d forgotten about it. “Is that why you flipped out?”
André sighs heavily. “I’ve learned that I don't need drugs and alcohol when you're kneeling before me as my slutty little wife. Keep putting that mouth of yours to good use and I won’t have the need to snort cocaine or get wasted on booze. Your perfect body offers more of a high than they ever would.”
Plastered across him, the sonorous sound combined with the honesty of his dirty talk has a tingling effect on my pussy. I sigh, giving in to the gravitational pull of his muscular build.
“The ring is ugly,” I tell him.
“What would you prefer—more diamonds?”
I lightly shake my head, shifting a little to become even more settled. “Do I look like I’m a bling queen to you?”
“You can be whoever you want now that you’re a Souza.”
“Really? That didn't work when I was employed at Sky Hotel.”
He laughs. Unlike his usual seductive chuckle, this one is amused and lighthearted. “In hindsight, I should have told you it’s my most recent completed project.”
“Yeah, you should have. And now I’ll miss Lennon’s engagement party, because I’m too embarrassed to show up. No doubt they think I duped them—like an undercover boss.”
“They’re assholes if they think that. Go to the party if you really want to. I’ll go with you.”
I peer up at him, meeting his gaze. “Really? You’d slum it with the mortals for a night?”
“For you, I’d go anywhere.”
“Hmm.”
“Don’t believe me?”
“It’s not that.”
“Then what is it?”
“What will happen to me when you grow tired of this?”
“I think we’ve both figured out thatthisisn’t a normal thing for me. So, wear your ring for me like a good wife.”
“Only if you promise to never pull that gun of yours out like that again.”
André’s lips settle on my forehead, the kiss warm, but his tone frostier than a wintry blizzard. “The next time I point my gun, it’ll be at Sapori’s head.” He senses my muscles tense. “He can’t hurt my wife and not expect retaliation. I’ll figure out a way to protect your mother first, and then I’ll finish the fucker once and for all.”
