Page 69 of Devil's Thirst

I jump, not realizing Sante has joined me at the vanity and is now leaning his backside against the counter with his hands curved around the edge on either side of him.

“Um, sure.”

He looks over at me, holding my gaze captive with the intensity in his own. “I told him he was harassing my wife, and he’d better find another favorite pastime if he wanted to keep his kneecaps intact.” He twists his torso to face me and guides a wayward strand of hair behind my ear. “I wasn’t joking when I said I’m going to marry you. You’re mine. That means I’ll protect you at all costs. It also means I have the rest of my life to fuck you in every position imaginable, and I plan for us both to live very long, healthy lives. There is absolutely. No. Rush. Understand?”

How is it he can say the most outlandish thing possible and somehow make me feel better for it? He’s threatening cops and telling me we’re going to get married when we’ve only known one another for a couple of weeks. Every bit of that should petrify me. Instead, his words calm me like a cool breeze on a summer day.

“Okay,” I respond to show him I got it.

What I hear is that he saw my panic and knew exactly what had me worried. I understand that, above all, he wants me to feel safe and comfortable.

Emotions swell in the back of my throat until I catch sight of one of his tattoos that distracts me. I reach forward and trail my fingers across the evil eye inked over his heart. It’s not overlyobvious in the mix of his other busy designs, but it jumps out to me.

“It was easier than keeping up with the ring,” he offers casually. He’s making light of his actions, but I can’t ignore the implications of him tattooing himself with the symbol I gave him.

“Why did you leave?” I ask, suddenly inundated with a plethora of questions.

“They didn’t tell you?”

“No.” I shake my head. “Not really. I heard you’d gotten into trouble and went to live with other family.”

He pushes off the counter. “Let’s get in the shower, and I’ll tell you about it.” He hooks his thumbs into my leggings and helps slide them down my legs. I remove my leotard while he takes off his boxers, leaving us both naked. Embarrassment never has a chance to descend. Sante leads the way to the shower, then makes room for me to wet down first.

“You know my father killed my mother, right?”

I open my eyes, water dripping from my lashes, and nod. I don’t know all the details, but I learned the basics from the other ladies mostly because of Noemi. I think she wanted me to know Lina and I weren’t the only ones with a shitty home life growing up.

“Mom was incredible. One of those people who always saw the bright side—like Noemi.” He motions for us to switch places. Once I’m out of the spray, he puts shampoo in his hands and gently lathers it into my hair. “I had no idea Dad was beating her on the regular—making sure not to leave bruises where people could see. He manipulated and threatened her. And when she finally took action to stand up against him, he had her killed.”

“That’s awful, Sante.” My heart physically aches for him.

“The worst part is that it happened right under my nose.”

“You were a kid,” I try to interject quickly.

“I was sixteen when she died. That’s old enough. And to top it off, Dad was going to do the same to Noemi, and I nearly let him.” He speaks without emotion and not in a way that alludes to in-depth counseling and years of healing. His factual retelling is laced with arsenic and frigid to the touch.

Whatever happened back then continues to eat him alive inside.

“I can’t even imagine what that was like.”

He finishes scrubbing and guides me back to the shower spray. “It wasn’t easy, but I also didn’t handle it well. Drinking, stealing cars, all kinds of shit. My cousin Renzo decided it would be best if I started fresh in Sicily. I’m glad he did. It was exactly what I needed.”

Once my hair is rinsed, he swaps places with me again. This time, his cock accidentally grazes my thigh. I quit breathing, my eyes dropping to his rock-hard length. A cloying need swirls deep in my belly despite my fears. He’s so huge, I can’t imagine having that inside me wouldn’t hurt.

I suddenly realize he’s been silent for a while. My stare jumps back to his. He’s watching me, eyes brimming with curiosity and desire.

“You sure you’ve had sex before?”

I cock my head to the side and glare. “Not to inflate your already well-rounded ego, but you’re … bigger than anyone I’ve been with.” I swallow, giving his throbbing cock one more glance. “By a lot.”

He smirks, then turns me around and drowns my hair in conditioner. “Told you I won’t hurt you, Mellie, and I meant it.” His honeyed voice drips down my skin as tangible as the shower water.

“Easy for you to say,” I mutter.

Sante gives my ass a playful smack. I yip and shoot him another glare. While I rinse the conditioner out, he washes hishair and body all in one. I’m transfixed by the sight of the bubbles drifting down every masculine inch of his body—the way they funnel into his Adonis V and the curling hairs on his legs that cause the bubbles to clump, then pop. I could watch the man shower for the rest of my life and never grow bored.

“I won’t force you into anything, but I’m no angel. You keep looking at me like that, and I may not be able to keep my hands to myself.” Strain shreds his voice to a ragged rumble.

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