Page 91 of Pretty Dark Vows

He eases the glass out of my hands, brushing his thumb over my lower lip to catch the last drop. He tugs on my hair again, and I drift toward him, mesmerized by the lazy curve of his lips as he smiles at me with hooded eyes.

“I fucking love this color,” he murmurs, smoothing the long blue strand he’s been playing with down over my chest, then reaching up to brush a purple one away from my face.

He lets his hand linger on my cheek, and I lean into it without thinking.

“Me too,” I say, although I’m not talking about my hair. “I’ve always liked green.”

Those gorgeous emerald eyes crinkle at the edges as his smile grows, the vibrant color sparkling. Pulling me in even deeper.

“Yeah?” His voice turns husky as the energy between us shifts.

“Yeah,” I whisper, my heart stuttering.

I really shouldn’t have had so much whiskey. It’s broken down too many of my walls.

I’m too open.

He sees too much.

But right now, I really don’t care.

30

RILEY

For a moment,it feels like time stands still, something brewing between us that feels even more intoxicating than the whiskey.

“Riley,” Dante says softly, his hand still cupping my cheek.

My pulse speeds up. I don’t hate it when he calls me “princess,” but for some reason hearing him say my name—having it sound real and raw and full of something that sounds a lot like the same craving I’m feeling—has me nodding, even though it wasn’t a question.

“Fuck,” I whisper, the feeling suddenly overwhelming me.

I squeeze my eyes closed, then pop them right back open when he runs a thumb over my lips, making them tingle.

“You okay?” he rumbles.

I nod, even though I’m not sure if it’s true. It’s risky to let myself feel anything for this man, risky to want things I shouldn’t have. But I can’t stop.

I turn my head, keeping my eyes locked on Dante’s, and kiss his palm where it still cups my cheek.

He smiles. Not the charming, sexy one that pulled me in from the first night I met him, but something more real.

My stomach swoops at the sight of it.

Is that what this is? Real? Because I’m used to being wanted by people who don’t even know me. I’m used to men viewing me as a conquest or an object. But I’m not used to the way Dante’s looking at me. Like he really sees me. Like he wantsallof me.

And that’s new for me. I’m not used to being desired as a whole person.

I lean toward him without meaning to, drawn closer like a moth to a flame.

“Kiss me,” I whisper even though it would be smarter, safer, to pull away.

“Is that what you want right now?” Dante teases softly, sliding his hand down to wrap around the front of my throat.

He tips my head back, his lips hovering just over mine and those gorgeous green eyes so close they’re mesmerizing.

He’s giving me an opening, I realize. A last chance to get up, leave the room, and head back upstairs before my already muddled feelings get even more confused.

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