Page 14 of Devious Vows

Donatello laughs, “Julian has been posting nonstop the last two hours.”

Nodding, I chuckle with him, looking up at the stage not far from us when the guys start talking to one another. If I tried I could probably make out what they’re saying, but it’s so loud I wouldn’t know without some effort. And at the moment, I don’t find myself caring enough to try.

The band ends their current song, the crowd around us erupting in cheers and shouts that shake the ground beneath my feet. I smile at the chaos of it, the sound booming from the speakers prickling the hair along my arms.

I startle when Remy’s breath hits my ear, the heat of his hand still linked with mine helping ground me with all the commotion surrounding us.I’d almost forgotten we were holding hands.“Dance with me.”

Spinning me in his arms, my hair swings around my shoulders, my face tilted back to look up into his. “Dance?” The electric sound of a guitar lights up the air, drums crashing into the background while the crowd roars once again. “This doesn’t really seem like dancing music.”

Remy chuckles, the sound vibrating against my fingertips, hand resting against his chest to stabilize myself when he jerks me closer. “Music is for dancing, is it not?”

My mouth opens and then closes.

He’s got me there.

The hand on my waist is already guiding me to dance, a slow roll of hips that doesn’t match the tune of the band but somehow doesn’t seem to matter as Remy looks down at me, honey browns warming my skin with their lingering gaze. Despite what I want to tell myself, tonight with Remy has been surprisinglynice.

Something I’m not sure I’d ever thought I’d say.

Remy is the one person I can never seem to get away from, no matter how hard I try. We have a volatile relationship on most days, one made entirely of snide remarks and usually hatred. The one time we shared a stolen kiss has stained my childhood like spilled ink, staining my fingers whenever I tried to rub the memory away. Each day since I’ve been stuck with him a little more, the realization that I’ll never be quite rid of him becoming more and more real.

But when Remy does things like he has tonight, when his thumb grazes my cheek to wipe away a stray hair, or his fingers dig into the soft fabric of my side as we dance, it feels as if something has changed between us. When his golden eyes smolder down into mine, his lips curling into a dimpled smirk, he seemsdifferentthan the Remy I’m used to. My heart flutters as he leans down impossibly closer, the air leaving my lungs when his breath feathers along my lips.

Inked fingers untwine from mine, rising to lightly cup my jaw, palm splayed over my throat, tilting my face for him.“Grazie per essere venuta, futura moglie.”Thanks for coming, wife-to-be.

His Italian is husky, the already deep notes of his voice a little more rough. My lips part at his nearness, heart thumping a beat it has no right to be thumping. “Why a feather?” It’s the question that’s been in the back of my mind since the tattoo parlor, but I wasn’t brave enough to ask. Only brave now because the lights are dim, nearly nonexistent, but some colorful strobes flashing here and there allowing me to see Remy’s full face only every few seconds.

But I don’t have to see his face to know how he’s looking at me right now. I can feel it in the light pinch of his fingers, in the soft puff of each breath that hits the seam of my lips.

My ears nearly ring in the silence that stretches between us as I wait for him to answer, our intimate position making me dizzy with emotions. Remy is both infuriating and familiar in a way that confuses me. I know that I could trust him with something as little as a secret to something as important as my life. Yet he is the one person who has never done anything but gone above and beyond to drive me crazy.

His light hum finally shatters the silence and I can practically feel the vibration in my lips. “Aren’t feathers our thing?”

My pulse stutters below his hand, breath slipping from my parted lips. “Ourthing?”

“Don’t tell me you forgot about the swan already, future wife.” Amusement bleeds through his tone, his fingers lighting up my skin where they press.

I blink. “I didn’t thinkyouremembered.”

The music is loud around us, but I can’t make it out, our surroundings drowned out by the look in Remy’s eyes as he tilts my head back even further, my hair lightly tickling along the skin between my shoulder blades.

“If I kiss you, will you punch me?” His nose slides up the side of my throat and my eyes blink closed at the phantom press of his lips, my fingers curling into the soft cotton of his shirt as his hot breath traces a path along my skin.

Swallowing, I know he feels it beneath his lips. “Maybe.”

It’s an absolute lie.

Unlike our first kiss, I might punch him if hedoesn’tkiss me.

He hums, the sound telling me he doesn’t believe me, teeth lightly sinking into my jugular before my face is jerked back down to look into his, honey browns daring me to stop him. “You still hate me?”

The way he asks that sets my heart into a frenzy, almost steals my breath.

I can’t tell what answer he wants to hear, but I’m too confused right now to even begin to sort out my feelings for this man. Despite that, I’m not sure I’m ready to stop this beautiful train wreck from happening.

He’s quiet while I think, dark gaze never leaving my own, his thumb brushing along my tattoo. “Maybe.” The little white lie slips past my lips, the gleam in his eye telling me he knows exactly what I mean even if I don’t myself.

Without another word his lips are on mine, gentle and soft, and so at odds to our surroundings. This isn’t the same stolen kiss we’ve shared before. Although sweet and sure, it’s a brutal onslaught of built-up hate and lust. The thick coils of tension wound around us vibrating with every sarcastic quip, every angry huff, every lingering touch, and burning gaze. I don’t know if I want to like this man. I don’t know if I want to like the way he makes me gasp when he nips at my bottom lip. I don’t know if I want his bergamot and vanilla scent to feel familiar while his tongue swipes along mine. I think I want to ignore the way my gut twists up when he flashes his dimples or when he steps into my space.

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