Page 85 of Brutal Vows

He stiffens. “Stop what?”

I arch a brow. “Acting like I’m made of glass. I’m healing. I survived. I’m not going to break.”

His lips press into a thin line, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he lowers himself onto the couch beside me, exhaling heavily. His fingers brush against mine absentmindedly as if he needs the contact to ground himself.

“I know you’re strong,” he murmurs, staring at our intertwined hands. “That’s never been a question.” He pauses, his thumb tracing small circles against my skin. “But I almost lost you,amore mio.And I don’t know how to just… move on from that.”

My heart clenches.

I shift, ignoring the ache in my body as I turn to face him fully. “I’m here,” I remind him softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His gaze lifts to mine, and there’s something raw in his expression, something unguarded. Vitali is always composed, always in control, but I can see it now—the fear he’s been holding onto. The weight of everything that happened.

I reach up, cupping his face with both hands. “You saved me,” I whisper. “You always will.”

His eyes darken, his hands sliding around my waist with careful precision as if still terrified of hurting me.

“I will,” he vows, his voice thick with emotion. “Always.”

I smile, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to his lips. He responds instantly, deepening the kiss just enough to remind me that no matter how much he hovers, no matter how overprotective he gets, this man is still mine.

And I wouldn’t trade him for anything in the world.

Vitali is still staring at me like I might disappear if helooks away for too long. His hands are careful, hesitant, like he’s afraid he might break me if he holds on too tight. But I don’t want careful. I don’t want soft. I want him.

The ache in my ribs is manageable. The bruises are fading. And the heat pooling low in my stomach has nothing to do with pain and everything to do with the way he’s looking at me—like he wants me but won’t allow himself to have me.

I shift in his lap, wincing slightly but making sure to press against him just enough to see his jaw tighten. His hands twitch on my waist, his grip instinctively tightening before he forces himself to relax.

“Gia,” he warns, his voice low, dangerous.

I bite my lip, dragging my fingers up his chest, toying with the buttons of his shirt. “What?” I ask, all innocence, tilting my head as I glance up at him through my lashes.

His nostrils flare, and I know that look. That barely restrained control. That silent battle between what hewantsand what hethinksI need.

“Don’t.” His voice is thick, rough.

I ignore him. My fingers slide lower, dipping beneath the fabric of his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath my touch. His stomach flexes under my palm, and I smirk.

“You don’t want me?” I murmur, shifting again, pressing myself more firmly against him.

He exhales sharply, his grip on my hips growing impossibly tight before he suddenly curses under his breath and pulls back, his hands wrapping around my wrists, stilling me.

“Cazzo,” he growls, eyes blazing as he searches my face. “Ialwayswant you, Gia. But you’re still healing.”

I pout, leaning forward so my lips brush against the corner of his mouth. “I feel fine.”

His jaw clenches. “You were barely able to sit up on your own a week ago,” he reminds me, his voice strained.

I hum, letting my tongue flick out to taste his skin, reveling in the way his breath shudders. “And now I’m sitting just fine. Straddling you, in fact.”

His hands tighten on my wrists, his entire body rigid beneath me. “You’re testing me,” he mutters, his tone dark.

I grin. “Maybe.”

His gaze locks onto mine, intense and unyielding. Then, suddenly, he shifts, flipping me onto my back on the couch with an ease that has my breath catching. He hovers over me, his weight resting on his forearms, his face inches from mine.

“Is this what you want,dolcezza?” he murmurs, his lips ghosting over mine, teasing, taunting.

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