Page 208 of Sinful Lies

A lump rose in my throat.

“I don’t deserve it,” I whispered.

“Maybe not. But you don’t get to decide what I forgive.” His hand dropped from my chin. “Open it,” he said again, softer this time.

I let out a shaky breath, my fingers trembling as I reached for the velvet box.

I opened it slowly, and the sight inside stole the air from my lungs. A tiny, delicate gold butterfly, identical to the ones that hung around my neck, gleamed softly in the light.

“You said the two around your neck symbolized your papa and sister,” Angelo’s voice was low, like he was threading his words carefully. “One was missing for your mama. Now the three of them will be together, watching over you.”

I looked at the butterfly in my hand, feeling something break open inside me.

“How did you …?”

“It wasn’t hard to find,” he murmured, his gaze warm, watching me like he always did—always seeing more than I wanted to show.

I closed my eyes, swallowing hard, trying to keep myself together, but it was impossible. The butterfly wasn’t just a gift. It was everything. A piece of the puzzle I didn’t know I was still trying to solve.

A way to keep them close. A way to remember them all.

“Thank you,” I whispered, barely able to get the words out.

Angelo didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to.

His hands gently slid behind my neck, unclasping my necklace. The delicate motion felt impossibly intimate, his fingers warm against my skin. He added the gold butterfly charm before securing the necklace back around my neck.

His hand grazed my skin, sending a little shiver straight through me before he cupped my face and yanked me closer, his mouth slamming against mine. It was hot, fierce—like he was marking me. Telling me, in no uncertain terms, that I was his and he was mine.

“I love you, Jade,” he muttered, his voice rough. “But from now on? No more fucking lies.”

I pulled away just enough to meet his gaze. “I promise.”

He leaned in, his lips brushing mine. “You better mean it.”

“I do,” I said, a little too breathlessly for my liking, but damn, he had that effect on me.

His lips crashed back to mine, deeper this time.

I cupped his head, my fingers threading through his hair, pulling him even closer. The pressure of his mouth against mine was almost punishing, but in the best way—like he was erasing all the mess, all the bullshit, with every swipe of his tongue.

He groaned into me, his hand sliding down my back, pulling me flush against him.

When he finally pulled back slightly, his breath ragged, his hands still gripping me like he was afraid I’d slip away, I could see it in his eyes—the raw hunger, the need.

And it made me feel alive.

Angelo Lazzio needed me—just as much as I needed him.

“Make love to me, Angelo,” I whispered against his lips.

He didn’t waste a second.

His lips crashed back into mine, pulling me to him like I was the air he needed to breathe. Every inch of his touch was a claim, a demand, and I let him take what he wanted—again and again—until there was nothing left but the two of us tangled in each other, our skin on fire.

I forgot everything else.

All that existed was him.

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