Page 89 of Victorious Vice

“Who’s there?” I whisper.

“Who do you think?”

Raven.

Sweet Raven.

“You need to go back to bed.”

“I’m not asking you to fuck me, Vinnie. I’m not asking for anything. I just want to lie next to you, sleep with your arms around me. Because that’s the only place I truly feel safe.”

Her words haunt me. Slice into me like a dagger. Because though I want more than anything to be her safe place, I’m anything but.

“I’m glad I make you feel safe, Raven. But if that were truly the case, we would be together.”

“That’s what I want, Vinnie. And don’t try to tell me it’s not what you want.”

“I’m married.”

“And I never thought I’d say this,” she says, “but I don’t care. I don’t care that you’re married. Because I know you don’t love her. I know you love me.”

She speaks the truth, and she knows it.

I sigh, and I hold the sheet up, beckoning her to me.

We already made love, or rather a quick hard fuck, in the dark conference room at the hotel.

She’s wearing nothing but a large T-shirt that probably belongs to one of her brothers.

Her hair is damp, and she smells like soap and almond shampoo.

Like Raven.

Like love and light and perfection.

She crawls into my arms, and I pull her against me, spooning her.

Of course my cock responds.

It hardens immediately, pressing against the curve of her soft backside. I grit my teeth and close my eyes, fighting off the primal urge to claim her right then and there.

I remind myself that this isn’t about desire, at least not in that way.

Raven is more than a want. She’s a need. An addiction. A love so powerful it hurts to breathe when she’s around.

I feel every curve, every inch of her body against mine, and it’s like fire coursing through my veins. The ache for her grows deeper with every beat of my heart.

She sighs contentedly as she nuzzles into my chest, tracing patterns on my bare skin.

She’s so small compared to me. So fragile and delicate, yet incredibly resilient and strong. It’s a contrast that never fails to mesmerize me.

“Vinnie,” she says softly, breaking the silence, her voice a mere whisper in the dark. “Promise me you won’t let go.”

“I can’t promise that, Raven,” I reply, my voice choked with suppressed emotions. “I can’t promise anything anymore.”

She faces me, her brown eyes piercing in the dim light. They are filled with a sadness that matches mine, but there’s also something else. Determination? Resolve?

“Then promise me this,” she says as she places her small hand over my heart. “Even if you let me go physically, don’t ever let go here.”

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