"The damage was done the moment our eyes collided."
~Xavier De Luca
***
One life-altering night ignites a soul-scorching passion between a gangster and a good girl...One that could burn everyone they know and love to ashes.
Loyalties and legacies...
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I couldn't control the savagery of our kiss if I wanted to, and she took it. She took it all and opened herself to me, willingly. Our tongues danced in a heady tango of give and take. They curled and writhed in a sexy grind that deepened our connection.
When she moaned into my mouth, I nearly came in my fucking pants like a horny teenager. In front of God and all!
She arched her perfect breasts, scraping the tight peaks of her nipples through the front of my button-down shirt to drive me past reason.
I wound my fingers into her silken mane, swept into a complicated braid I couldn't fucking fathom, and enjoyed the way her head tilted when I fisted it for a playful tug.
Matteo was probably shitting himself watching us. He knew my policy about 'no kissing on the mouth.' It only leads to deeper intimacy, which I can't allow in my life.
For Grace, I was willing to break every rule, apparently.
I couldn't help it. I was drawn to her virtue. To the purity that she was too naïve to conceal. To the flush of her China-doll cheeks and the molten gold of her wide, expressive eyes.
I wanted to devour her untouched beauty.
I wanted to taste it, then, take it.
God, I was a monster.
I was a hairsbreadth from hiking up her little black dress and ravaging her right there on the church's pulpit like the demon I am. The shock of my own depravity was the douse of ice water my besotted brain, and aching balls needed.
With the last shred of discipline left in me, I pulled back from our ardent embrace to watch her exquisite face fall with the sting of rejection.
Swiping the pad of my thumb across the swell of her bottom lip, I whispered, "Not here, Grace," my dick stirred angrily at her tortured whimper as I stabilized my breathing, "Not like this."
"Oh no!" She grabbed the sides of her head, disgusted. "Oh, Jaysus, you're engaged! And we're in a church!"
"I'm not engaged." I corrected swiftly, "But, we are in a church."
Even I had lines I wouldn't cross, apparently.
"But your mother-"
"My mother was hoping that I would agree to marry, Mia," I answered her unfinished question. "She was mistaken."
"Mia," Grace repeated her name as though it both fascinated and repulsed her.
"Mia Bianchi, yes. I've known her most of my life," it found it impossible to explain the complexities of our relationship, such as it was, without revealing too much of the darkness I dwell in, "Her father has been a business associate of my family's going back to before our birth, and because of that, our families are quite...close.
