Page 114 of For Your Eyes Only

I slide the zipper down, and she shoves her arms out of the dress, quickly removing her bra. I groan when her gorgeous tits bounce out, and I slide my palms up to cup them, squeeze them, tweak her hard nipples with my fingers. We climb to the center of the bed on our knees, and I go behind her.

“God, you are so fucking hot.” My mouth is on her neck, and she moans, writhing against me. “Sleeping in this bed with you night after night was fucking torture.”

“I almost died every time,” she gasps. “I don’t think I can wait. I’m going to come.”

“Not without me.” Reaching between us, I grasp my erection, sliding it between her legs until I find her slippery core and thrust deeply.

“Oh, fuck!” We both groan, and I rock my hips, driving in and out of her divine depths.

She moves with me, meeting my thrusts, holding the back of my neck with her hand. Reaching between her thighs, I slide my fingers up and down, searching until I find that little spot.

Fever swirls around us. I’m circling my fingers over her clit, thrusting my cock in her hot, wet pussy, and she’s grasping at my hair, my neck, moaning. We don’t last long before I feel her break into spasms. Her body stiffens in my arms, and I can’t hold out anymore. I let go of the need driving me wild, pulsing in my veins and driving through my pelvis, spilling into her.

We hold each other as we consummate the promises we’ve made, as white-hot reunion solders us together into one.

When I can breathe, I slide my arms around her body, one around her waist and the other over her shoulders. My face is at her ear, and I kiss her.

“I knew the first time I kissed you, you would change me.” I’m not even ashamed of the emotion so thick in my voice.

We lie back on the bed, and I pull her into my embrace. Her body is flush with mine, soft breasts against my chest, soft hips against mine. I slide my hand along her cheek, smoothing back her dark curls. She gazes at me with glowing, beautiful eyes. She’s stolen my heart and my soul.

“I’ve never begged for a thing in my life, but I’ll beg for you. I’ll beg for your forgiveness, for your love.”

“You already have it. You have it all.” Her eyes close, and tears sparkle in her lashes.

Sliding my thumb over her cheek, I kiss her closed lids. “Thank you for forgiving me, my beautiful Gia.” I kiss her lips. “You saved my life.”

She touches my cheek, and when our eyes meet again, she smiles. “Thank you for fighting for me.”

“I will always fight for you. I love you.”

“I love you.” She stretches in my arms, kissing me firmly on the mouth.

We’re surrounded by flowers and warmth and healing, the beautiful scent of the ocean laced with the fresh flowers and the food. It’s something I didn’t think was possible in my old life. It’s something I didn’t expect to have until I met this beautiful girl with her pure heart.

She truly has saved me, and together, we can rise above the evil. She’s my butterfly, and on her wing we fly.

EPILOGUE

GIA

“We’re leaving for Duomo in a half-hour.” Anabella’s assistant Mira grins as she peeks her head inside the door of the design studio. “Don’t forget your kit.”

I nearly choke on my coffee. “I get to go this time?”

“Yes.” She walks over to where I stand at a sketch table, working on my latest creation. “I told them I needed help with so many outfits to fit and makeup to check…”

Mira is my age, but stick-thin with pale skin and heavy brows. Her look is very Audrey Hepburn inFunny Face,with her light brown hair styled in a ponytail with bangs. She wears black pants and black turtlenecks with penny loafers and no socks every day.

When I was hired as second assistant (the very bottom of the ladder), she was promoted, and she has become one of my closest friends in the office—possibly because she has a vested interest in keeping me onboard. Second assistant is basically a glorified gofer.

Leaning closer, she inspects the sketch I’ve been working on for ten minutes, during a rare break in my routine of fetching coffee and checking emails and listening to voicemails and delivering swatches and being insulted by Pietro, the head designer.

It’s a collarless, black suede jacket with waist-length fringe extending from the shoulders on the front and back, creating the effect of a flowy cape.

“I like this.” She lifts my hasty pen-and-ink drawing. “You should show it to Pietro.”

“Sure,” I exhale a frustrated groan. “I’ll show him my new favorite sketch so he can dump on it.”

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