Page 43 of Hell Hath No Fury

“Oh, goodness. Yes,” he replies with a laugh. “I would also perish.”

The mood lightens slightly, and we move to the kitchen in search of dessert. Antonio is thrilled to find a tiramisu in the refrigerator, happily pulling it out and grabbing two forks.

He hands me one, and I take it from him with raised brows. “No plates?”

His smile is sheepish, but he shakes his head, moving the dessert between us. “I like sharing with you.”

Never in my entire life would I have thought such a simple statement would send my pulse into overdrive, but here I am, skittering with excitement. I attempt to push the feeling down and fail miserably, so I turn my attention to sinking my fork into the dessert.

No sooner do I raise the dessert-filled fork than his hand is gripping mine. He takes the fork from me, moving it slowly toward my mouth. I quirk a brow at him, pressing my lips together for a moment before finally opening and allowing him to insert the bit of food into my mouth. I pause like that, awkwardly with a fork in my mouth, and he laughs. “Take the bite, Lilith. It won’t hurt you.”

I immediately close my lips around the metal tines. He pulls the fork free, and I slowly chew, then swallow, licking my lips as I watch him watch me. Then I ask mildly, “You’re going to feed me?”

He blinks, then his eyes lift to mine, warm and inviting, and that ache is back in my chest. His eyes move back down, his fingertip sliding along the corner of my mouth. “You have a bit there,” then he raises that same finger to his own mouth, his tongue flicking out and tasting it.

My entire body clenches. I clear my throat, straightening as I place my hands on the counter, doing a shit-ass job of feigning nonchalance. He smirks, that twinkle in his eye indicating he knows exactly what’s running through my mind. “Do I get to feed you?”

“No.”

“Why not?” I huff, genuinely annoyed and confused by his response.

He feeds me another bite, this time not taking nearly as much care, and the next thing I know, his face is right there, histongue swiping along the corner of my mouth as he skips right to licking.

My breath chokes me, and I lean into him, turning my head in the hopes of feeling his lips against mine, but he quickly turns away, that same knowing smirk on his mouth.

I narrow my eyes, tapping my fingertips on the countertop. He holds the fork out to me, and I shake my head. Still smirking, he returns the now-covered dessert to the refrigerator, cleans the one fork, and leaves it in the rack to dry.

Turning back to me, he motions toward the living area, so I turn, doing my best to ignore his palm pressed against my lower back as we leave the kitchen. He guides me toward the electric fireplace, now ablaze in blue and red flames, and we stand in front of it, our bodies turned toward each other.

We stare at each other for a moment before I remove his suit jacket, tossing it on the sofa behind us. The silence stretches into uncomfortable, forcing me to ask, “What?”

His brow furrows, his jaw clenching briefly before he responds, “I’m uncertain what’s off-limits with us.”

I raise a brow and shake my head. “Nothing is off-limits, Antonio.”

“Yeah, I get that, but I don’t want to bring up the past and then have you on edge or upset.”

“If you need to talk about it, then talk about it. You’re not responsible for my feelings.”

He reaches for my hand, and I turn my palm into his, gripping firmly—a lifeline in the unknown hellscape of memory lane.

“So, you don’t mind talking about it?”

I frown, shaking my head. “About what, specifically?”

“About what happened with us,” he replies quietly, moving impossibly closer to me. His heat seeps through the silk of my dress, and I press against him, my heart pounding as hecontinues, “I have some recollections, but I was never sure what was true and what was false.”

My laugh is short and pained. “I can make it easy for you.”

He tilts his head. “How?”

“If your recollection at all paints you as the bad guy, it’s false.”

His smile is sad, his hands moving to cup my cheeks. “Maybe not then, but make no mistake, Lilith. I am a bad guy.”

“It’s all relative. I sure as shit won’t be having any kind of bad guy contest with you or anyone.”

He stares down at me, his light eyes sparkling with emotion that has my breath in my throat. His hands move from my cheeks, sliding around until they cup where my skull and neck meet, his thumbs stroking along my cheek soothingly.

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