Page 28 of Christmas Vows with the Devil

Before I can stop myself, I reach over, my hand brushing against her leg. She inhales sharply, her eyes locked on mine.

I don’t know why I’m doing this, why I can’t stop myself. I need to be closer to her, to feel her against me again.

“Dante...” Her voice is a warning, but she doesn’t pull away.

I lean in, closing the distance between us. My hand moves higher, resting on her thigh. She trembles under my touch, and I can feel the rapid rise and fall of her chest.

“I can’t do this.”

She pushes me away lightly and I feel like I’ve been doused in cold water.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

We drive in silence, the tension between us thicker than ever. My mind races, thoughts of Matteo swirling alongside the memory of her body pressed against mine.

It’s too much, all of it.

The secrets, the lies.

But now that I’ve tasted her again, there’s no way in hell I’m giving her up.

Chapter Nine

Gia

I can’t stop thinking about what happened in the car.

The heat of Dante’s breath on my skin, the way his eyes darkened when he asked about Matteo.

It’s like a storm swirling inside me. I thought I’d buried those feelings. But they’ve clawed their way back up to the surface, impossible to ignore.

I shouldn’t want him. I shouldn’t be feeling this at all.

Dinner feels like it’s happening in slow motion. The lodge is buzzing with energy, the usual Christmas Eve chaos in full swing.

My aunts are making a racket in the kitchen, hollering at each other about some dessert crisis. The rest of the family lounges around the long dining table. They chatter over each other like they’re competing for airtime.

Matteo’s playing with his cousins, and I’m sitting at the table, staring into space. My mind’s back in the car, trapped in the memory of Dante’s lips on mine.

Then I think about the way he looked at me, asking about Matteo. The way his hands gripped the steering wheel, white-knuckled.

He knows.

He must know now.

“Gia! You okay over there?”

Aunt Carla’s voice yanks me back to the present. She’s grinning at me from across the table, holding up a bottle of wine. “Refill?”

I blink, forcing a smile. “Yeah, sure.”

Aunt Carla’s the kind of woman who doesn’t take no for an answer, especially when it comes to wine. She’s already halfway to me, the wine bottle in hand and a smile on her face.

The room smells like pine and garlic bread. It’s warm and lively, the kind of family chaos that usually makes me feel at home.

But tonight, I feel...off.

I’m just too aware of everything. Especially Dante, who’s sitting at the far end of the table, watching me.

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