Page 27 of Devil of Vegas

The word “had” reminds me of my little sister as a mere memory from the past, still piercing me like a venomous wasp. And for the first time since that night, I find myself talking about what happened.

To Isla, I describe the failed hit, the emotions I felt watching my sister perish, the helplessness, and the guilt at having failed her. And perhaps most surprising—I tell her about the war that has waged inside of me ever since.

“That is why you want to control everything,” she says with a sort of gentle assurance that I never thought anyone else could understand. “That’s why you stepped into the role ofmonster, so that you would never feel that sort of pain again. And—so no one would hurt someone you care about again.”

“I don’t care about anyone anymore,” I say, knowing as soon as the words pass my lips that it’s a lie.

But Isla doesn’t challenge me on that. Instead, she scoots over in her bed. “Sleep here with me tonight,” she says, to my surprise. “Please.”

“I don’t think that’s?—”

“Please,” she repeats. “I’d feel safer if you were here beside me.”

I let out a small, sarcastic laugh. “You’d feel safer bringing the monster into bed with you?”

“Yes,” she says as she tugs my shoulder to lie down beside her. “You can scare all my other nightmares away and protect me against the other monsters in my nightmares.”

Despite my better judgment, I lie down beside her. I’m careful not to touch her, knowing what might happen and what kinds of temptations might swell within me if I do. No touching, just breathing, and just lying here beside her at her request as if she has some sort of magic spell over me.

I can hear her soft breathing as she nestles her head against her pillow, satisfied that I’ve agreed to stay here beside her.

“You must have some sort of masochistic wish,” I tease her quietly. “To tempt fate by bringing the man who almost killed you and then captured you so close to you while you sleep.”

Instead of saying anything in return, Isla reaches her hand out toward me. She touches the side of my arm, then drags her fingers down my forearm and past my wrist until she finds my hand. She threads her fingers with mine and wraps her small hand inside my palm, holding on tightly as if she’s afraid that I’ll leave once she closes her eyes.

I don’t leave. Even when I hear her breathing slow and steady into a rhythmic sleep. I stay right there in bed beside her, and I don’t let go of Isla’s hand.

CHAPTER 13

ISLA

Ifeel like I’ve only just closed my eyes for a few seconds before they open again. When I wake up, I’m uncertain about the time that has elapsed. I’m relieved to see that Vincent is still lying beside me with his hand wrapped tightly around my own.

He looks back at me as if he’s been lying here awake while watching me sleep, and there’s an unspoken longing that bubbles up inside me. I turn to face him and slide closer until I’m pressed against him. I lift my head onto his chest and listen as his heart races. Then, I do something that I know will be impossible to take back—I press my lips against his skin and place a gentle kiss against his flesh.

Vincent’s body stiffens, his muscles tense, and the grip that he has on my hand tightens. It’s a physical response to his effort of keeping himself under tight control, one that I feel is waning, especially when I do it again.

“Do you remember what I told you?” he whispers in the dark. “That the next time, I wouldn’t stop?”

It’s a slight moment of pause—he’s offering me an escape from what he’s about to do. I canfeelit as he lies beside me. He’s about to give in, to lose control and cross a point of no return. And if I let him, he’s going to take me with him. This time, there won’t be any turning back. This is my one chance to tell Vincentnoand keep this violent, dangerous mafia boss from having me.

I run my hand down his inked arm, feeling the weight of this moment as I tempt this untouchable god of wrath and pride.

He hasn’t just trapped me, Vincent hasseenme in ways that no one else ever has. He’s comforted me, challenged me, and drawn out a depth of both strength and longing that I never knew existed before. And now, as I realizeexactlywhat I’m about to do, I decide I am no longer Vincent Moretti’s fragile captive—I’mchoosingto be here with him.

I kiss him again, letting my lips softly touch the top of his chest, trembling at the thought of what comes next.

Almost instantly, Vincent lifts himself up and rolls me onto my back. He climbs over me, pinning me beneath his body as he lifts my nightgown and hooks his finger into the side of my panties to slide them off. I lean up to reach for him, wanting to kiss him again, butheis in control now, and he makes that very clear.

“Stay,” he commands as he takes off his pants, letting his massive cock fall against my thighs as I try to hold myself still.

When there is nothing left between our bodies, no thin fabric or hesitation to pull us apart, Vincent leans down over me. He hovers against me, keeping his weight on his forearms so as not to crush me, and stares into my eyes with a desire that burnsviolentlyhot. Without another word, he puts his mouth on mine, not slowly and definitely not gently—the kiss is one of pureneed, gnashing teeth, and frenzied tongue spiraling around one another. If Vincent is truly theDevil, then I’m nothing short of possessed by him now. And when he pushes inside of me, with a strong, swift thrust that causes a gasp from the sheer impact of his cock filling my body, there is nothing I can do but give in to him completely.

I’ve had sex before. I know Vincent has had his fair share, too, but nothing haseverfelt like this before. Every push and pull inside my body, and every slow, taunting move that ends with a thrust, I can feel all the way down into the soles of my feet, sends me climbing higher and higher toward ecstasy. Vincent’s hands grip my hips as he drives into me. The relentlessness with which he makes love to me is more than sex. It’s rough, possessive, evenobsessive,perhaps, as if he’s marking territory and claiming me as his. But there’s something else there as well, something that emerges stronger with each pulse of his cock inside me. There’s anemotionthat I can feel through his frenzied touch and see in his wide-open eyes as he stares straight into my soul. And as I try to hold on to the escalating pleasure for as long as I can, not wanting it to be over as I bask in each intense moment of it, Vincent speaks against my cheek so that I can feel his warm, heady breath sweep over my skin.

“Surrender to me,my ballerina,” he says as he sinks deeper into me. His words are messy with reckless emotion, and it’s enough to send me straight over the edge.

My body erupts into a fit of convulsions that cascade over me in waves. The sweeping gratification causes me to clench my teeth and dig my nails into the back of Vincent’s shoulders. In response, he explodes within me. Every muscle in his body shakes as a low groan escapes his mouth, and he tries not to collapse his weight over me.

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