Page 57 of Christmas Vows with the Devil

Dante doesn’t answer right away. He’s pacing, his mind racing. I can see the conflict in his eyes, the tension in his shoulders. He’s always so sure of himself, so in control. But tonight...he’s different.

Vulnerable.

“It doesn’t make sense,” he answers slowly. “I’ve been trying to figure it out the entire time. The only thing I can think of is that they want me…and they know he’s my son.”

The air between us is thick and heavy with unspoken words. My head is still spinning from the crash, my body aching from the cold. And yet, all I can think about is Dante calling Matteo his son.

I rise slowly, brushing the hay off my clothes, and move toward him. He avoids my gaze, keeping his eye on the door of the barn, but I hover closely behind, wrapping my arms around his body.

“Your son?” I prod gently, the words muffled by his jacket.

He sighs, spinning around, taking me into his arms. “Yes, Gia. I can’t deny it. I don’t even know why I bothered in the first place…the kid is clearly mine, right down to his serious thinking face.”

I giggle, picturing Matteo focused on a task, eyebrows drawn, mouth in a grim line—so much like his father. A wave of sadness hits me.

My little boy is out there somewhere, crying for me. And I can’t protect him.

Dante kisses away the first tear as it slides down my cheek. A second one follows, and his lips trail it down to the crook of myneck. I draw myself closer to him, pressing into his body, into the comfort that only Dante can give me.

“Gia?” His voice is soft, nervous even.

I tilt my chin up, my lips meeting his fervently, the decision already made.

He walks me backward toward the hay that is piled in the corner, and we trip and fall into each other, landing in the softness of the sweet-smelling hay. With the temperature plummeting, we decide that keeping our clothes on is the safest bet, but Dante slides his warm hands under my sweater, teasing and pinching my nipples.

I respond by arching into him, begging for more. This doesn’t feel like last time. There’s no fear, no drama, no games. It’s just me and Dante, horny as hell, seeking comfort from each other.

I practically rip his jeans apart, tugging on the button, slipping my hand inside. He’s already hard as I curl my fingers around him, making him moan. I savor the sound of his ragged breathing as I slowly stroke him.

His face is buried in my neck, teasing me with licks and nips. He stills suddenly, pushing up on his elbows to look down at me. I melt as he smiles, looking almost like the boy I left six years ago.But he’s not that boy anymore, I remind myself.

The lines at the corner of his eyes are new, the hardness of his jaw, even the way he carries himself. He’s a man.My man.

“You sure about this right now?”

“Dante, can we please just get this show on the road?” I tell him in frustration, pulling him back down toward me. He chuckles but quickly slips my thermal leggings down enough to slide his hand between my thighs, parting me for him.

He swirls a finger through my slick pussy, and I’m almost embarrassed by how wet I am for him. But when he looks at me with hooded eyes, growling with lust, I know better.

“That’s my girl,” he whispers, sliding a finger inside, making me moan. “Always so ready for me.”

“Always,” I echo, squirming and begging for more. He quickly slides his own jeans down, sinking inside me so slowly that I almost growl myself. He laughs at my desperation, amused, and slides out just as slowly.

“Dante, I swear…”

Before I can finish cursing, he thrusts into me—hard. I meet his eyes, a scream escaping my lips, and see not lust, but love.

Dante Manzo is looking at me like he loves me. And fucking me like it’s our last day on Earth.

“You asked for it, baby,” he whispers hoarsely, as he slams into me again.

I know I’m not going to last long. All the tension, stress, and anger of the day melt away as Dante sends my body into another universe. He’s hitting the right spot, and I feel myself soaring higher and higher, my own screams of pleasure drowned out by his moans.

The hay shifts beneath us, sending clouds of dust and specks of dried grass into the air. The walls creak with the howling wind, but all I can hear is Dante, moaning my name.

This is primitive, wild. We’re two caged animals finally shedding the shackles of the past and finding freedom in our future.

One final thrust and I explode all over him, soaking him as my body shakes with pleasure.

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