Page 81 of The Bonventi War
The intensity in his eyes makes me start to feel that fire like only he can. This man—this dangerous, complex man—loves me. Wants me. Would kill for me. Do anything to keep me safe.
"So if no other man can ever touch me..." I lean forward and rub my thumb across his stubbled cheek. "I guess I'm yours forever then."
The words seem to ignite something in Gio. His eyes flash with that possessive fire I've come to crave.
He leans in. "Say it again," he whispers, his hand sliding to the back of my neck.
"I'm yours," I repeat, and as the words leave my lips, I realize they're true. Somewhere along this twisted path, I've given myself to this man, not just my body, but something deeper. Something you're only meant to give your person, the one you'll spend eternity with. The kind of person that would burn the world down to keep you safe.
We stay still for a moment, and then Gio continues being my doctor.
"There," he says, securing the last bandage on my wrist where the restraints had cut into my skin. "All fixed up."
His fingers linger there, warm against my pulse, brushing my wrist over the bandage, and I watch his face.
"Thank you," I say, suddenly noticing how the couch cushions have dipped to bring our bodies just inches apart.
Gio's gaze drops to my lips, and something electric passes between us. Despite everything—the trauma of the night, my aching body—I feel that familiar warmth spreading through me.
"Raven," he says, his voice low.
I lean forward, eliminating the space between us. His lips touch mine, gentle at first, hesitant. I press closer, my hands resting on his firm chest.
His gentleness dissolves like honey in hot water. His arms wrap around me, careful of my injuries, but there's nothing careful about the way his mouth claims mine. I gasp as he deepens the kiss. His hands tangle in my hair, angling my head to give him better access.
The pain in my body seems to dissolve, replaced by a different kind of ache altogether. My skin comes alive under his touch, hypersensitive and craving more. I feel myself arching into him, my body making decisions my brain hasn't caught up to yet.
I want this. I want him. After everything that's happened, I need to feel connected to something real and solid and good. And despite his darkness, despite the violence I've witnessed, Gio is somehow all those things to me now.
His hands slide down to my waist, gripping tighter, and I whimper into his mouth. The sound seems to snap him back to reality. Gio pulls away abruptly, his breathing ragged.
"Sorry," he says. "I don't want to hurt?—"
I place a finger over his lips, silencing him. "I want you," I say, my voice showing my lust. "Just be gentle with me."
His eyes darken at my words, and he nods slowly.
"Are you sure?" he asks.
"Yes," I answer without hesitation. "I need you, Gio."
He stands, reaching for my hands to pull me up with him. We move toward the bedroom, his arm supporting me.
In my room, the soft glow from the bedside lamp casts everything in warm amber. Gio turns to me, his hands finding the hem of my T-shirt, and I raise my arms, allowing him to slowly lift the fabric over my head.
The cool air hits my bare skin, and I feel goosebumps forming. Gio's eyes roam over me, taking in the bruises blooming across my ribs, the red marks still visible despite his careful cleaning. His jaw tightens, and I see a flash of that murderous rage again.
"Hey," I say softly, bringing his focus back to me. "I'm here. I'm okay."
Gio nods and leans into me, gently kissing my chest, his tongue moving in soft circles around my hard nipples. His grip is soft, almost skimming over me, as if I might break. It's so different from his usual commanding physical presence, but I like the gentleness of it.
As he sucks on my breasts, his hand slides down, and my pajamas fall to the ground. His hand finds my wetness, and his fingers rub my clit in small, slow circles. I moan as I grip him tightly.
I reach for his shirt, tugging it upward. He helps pull it off, revealing his tattoos that cover his arms and chest. I've seen them before, but now I take my time running my fingers over the intricate patterns, learning the map of my lover's body.
I pull his pants down, and when we're both naked, Gio lifts me with surprising gentleness, laying me down on the bed as if I'm made of glass.
He hovers over me, supporting his weight on his forearms. "Tell me if I hurt you," he says, his voice thick with tempered lust. "Tell me to stop, and I will."
