Page 12 of Crimson Vows

“I bet there are a few more things I could do tonight that would surprise you as well,” he flirts, and my face flushes hot as a shiver of anticipation runs down my spine.

The dance continues through dinner and dessert. The flirtations move into blatant sexual advances by each of us. A part of me wants to resist, to push him away and not seem so easy. But another part yearns for a night of passion. I haven’t been with a man since my night with Vincent, and while I am still mourning my father, I have been neglecting my needs.

Marco narrows his eyes at me. “What do you say we take this back to my place?”

“Actually,” I whisper, not eager to give him the upper hand, “I was thinking about my place instead?”

Immediately, Marco waves toward the server. “We need the check, please, and as fast as humanly possible would be much appreciated.”

I can’t help but giggle in response to Marco’s enthusiastic reply. His humor is a welcomed relief to the intensity of our day-to-day lives.

We quickly settle the bill, and Marco offers his arm as we leave the restaurant. The night air is cool against my skin. Still, the heat between us radiates, creating an invisible force field that only we can feel. I can sense Marco’s anticipation as we step into the car.

As the car speeds toward my place, Marco’s hand rests on my thigh, and his touch sends electricity coursing through my veins. No matter what decision I make about Marco’s proposal, one thing is certain—the night ahead promises to be unforgettable.

Chapter Five

Gia

The cool night air kisses our skin as we step out of Marco’s car, but it’s not the breeze that sends shivers down my spine—it’s the heat in his gaze. The hunger.

“Let’s go inside,” I say.

We climb the steps to my brownstone, and a moment later, the door swings open. I lead him over the threshold, and we kick off our shoes inside the door.

“Should we have a drink?” he asks, his voice low and smooth like aged whiskey.

I turn to face him, the dim light casting shadows over his sharp features, making him look even more dangerous, more irresistible. Why waste time? We both know what we want—what we need. The way he lets me be who I am without apology has me on fire.

“Marco,” I start, closing the distance between us until I can feel the warmth radiating from his body. “Is that what you really want? A drink?”

His eyes hold mine; a storm brewing in them promises destruction in the sweetest way. I reach for his hand, lacing my fingers with his, and pull him toward the bedroom. He follows me up the stairs, a willing captive in our game.

“Fuck, I like the way you think,” he moans.

“That’s not all you’re going to like,” I assure him.

The bedroom door opens with a soft creak. Inside, the room is awash with the soft glow of a strand of twinkling lights I have strewn over the sheer curtains of my window. Here, in this space, I can be anyone and do anything. I can make any of my fantasies come true.

My hand remains clasped in his, and I watch him as he takes in the space. His eyes dart around the room, full of many colors, textures, and fun devices. His gaze lifts to the ceiling, and he studies the leather and metal contraption that dangles with silent promise.

“Didn’t expect that, did you?” I tease, a sly smile playing on my lips.

Marco’s eyes are wide, a shade of blue gone dark in the low light. Surprise etches his face, but there’s a glint of intrigue there too. He chuckles. “What exactly is that?”

I step closer, my fingertips grazing his chest. My nails trace the lapels of his jacket before I slide it off his shoulders. It falls, a whisper against the floor.

I lean in, my lips grazing his earlobe, as I whisper, “That, Marco, is a sex swing. And tonight, we’re going to use it to explore every inch of each other.”

His body tenses beneath my touch, anticipation and desire swirling in his eyes. I run my hands down his chest, feeling the defined muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt. My fingers trail lower, unbuttoning each one slowly, deliberately.

With his shirt discarded on the floor, I take a step back to admire him. The soft light caresses his bare skin, casting shadows and accentuating every contour and curve.

I reach for the hem of my dress, pulling it up and over my head in one fluid motion. Now naked before him, I stand tall and unashamed. The confidence radiates from me as I approach him again.

“Oh fuck,” he breathes. “I didn’t realize you were naked under that.”

I shrug playfully. “You wouldn’t want a girl to have panty lines, would you?”

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