Devil’s Thirst: A Mafia Stalker Romance (The Moretti Men Book 1)
Devil’s Thirst: Chapter 15

I whirl around to face him, too stunned to consider how close we’ll be. If I wasn’t already off-balance, falling into his stare has me disoriented.

My thoughts struggle to catch up from intruders to questions from cops, now Isaac claiming we’re … what? Boyfriend and girlfriend? It sounds absurd.

“We haven’t even gone on a date.”

I could have said a million different things to contradict Isaac’s assertion that I’m his, and somehow that is what I lead with. Thank God I’m not a courtroom lawyer. My clients would be royally screwed. But it’s not entirely my fault. Isaac’s lips are so dang close, I can’t stop staring at them, imagining what it would be like to feel them pressed against mine.

This is one thousand percent not how a healthy relationship begins. I may not have had great role models in that arena, but I’ve spent a lot of time daydreaming about my happily ever after, and not once did it unfold like this. I want healthy and nurturing—something based on friendship and not merely physical desire. But the girl in me who only ever wanted her family to want her is completely drunk on the idea that this man is desperate to have me.

Would it be so bad to test the waters?

Maybe! He could be dangerous!

The entire freaking world is dangerous for me, and so far, he’s the one person who’s tried to help.

“We’ll get there, but in the meantime, I can’t be worrying about whether you’re letting another man touch you.” His hand cups the back of my neck, bringing his lips just shy of touching my own. He’s so close I can smell the mint on his breath. “There are only two things I’ll ask of you—loyalty and honesty—because that lays a foundation of trust. Everything else is negotiable. Set aside whatever worries you have and answer this. While we sort this out, can you be loyal and honest?”

His request is so earnest—so honorable—how can I say no?

My lungs have quit working what feels like ages ago. All I can do is command myself not to overthink this and nod.

“Now, I’m going to ask you one more question. I expect the truth, Amelie. Why didn’t you tell the cop you have a stalker?”

The question is so unexpected that my eyes widen and my mind blanks.

“Who says I didn’t?”

His hand at the back of my neck tightens a smidge in warning. “The truth, Amelie. You give me the truth, or I call them back and tell them everything.”

Crap! How is this man so freaking observant?

He’s worse than a dog with a bone—repeatedly poking in the one area I need him to ignore. There’s no time to fabricate an explanation. Besides, I’ve barely slept, and his proximity has scrambled what little brain power I might have at this late hour.

Who knows, maybe the truth is exactly what I need. Hearing how screwed up my life has been would scare off most anyone. I keep that stuff to myself for more than one reason. Primarily because I prefer not to dwell on the past. But a close second is my fear of people’s reactions. In this case, however, giving Isaac a reason to reconsider his interest in me would be a good thing. If I give him a peek at what’s behind the curtain, and he decides to retreat, then I can strike him off my worry list.

And if he doesn’t run?

I’m not sure, but I think … I think I might like to find out.

I nod again, this time to myself, then take the first big risk I’ve taken in four years.

“I know it sounds crazy, but there was a secret group here in the city called The Society,” I begin in nearly a whisper. “They were the very worst sort of people you could imagine—power and wealth and horrible depravity. My parents were involved in the group. They were members before they died. Since then, the group has been dismantled, but I prefer to stay off the radar, just in case.” Dismantled but not gone. I know of at least one man who still carries their torch.

“And you think talking with the police could bring you to their attention?” He doesn’t even question the veracity of my seemingly outlandish claim, which, in a deplorable show of hypocrisy, leaves me wondering about his sanity.

“They don’t even exist anymore. It’s a precaution more than anything.” My attempt to gloss over the situation goes unnoticed.

“Why would you even ping their radar? What interest would they have in you?” His hands clamp around my upper arms while his penetrating stare attempts to dissect me piece by piece.

In response, I press my hands against his chest to give myself some breathing room, but he refuses to budge.

“I’m paranoid, okay? Is that what you want to hear?”

“I want to hear the truth, goddammit.”

“That is the truth, and it’s more than I’ve told anyone else. You say you chose me, but you don’t even know what that means.” Frustration swells into anger, sharpening my words. “Everything about me is complicated, so if you don’t like that, then great, you can leave. Better for you to figure it out now.”

Better now than after I’ve fallen for you.

I leave that part unspoken because it feels too vulnerable. I can’t tell him more than I already have—it’s too dangerous. And my duty to keep my family safe is far more important than appeasing his sense of curiosity.

When he remains silent, I slowly return my gaze to his, silently pleading for him not to give up on me. Pleading for him to be the man I need him to be.

His eyes glint like shards of black onyx. “You have no idea how committed I am. If you did, you’d be the one running.”

It sounds like a warning, but I can’t see how being committed to someone could be a bad thing. The thought of having someone at my back, no matter how rough the seas—someone who regards me above all others—sounds like a dream, not a nightmare.

“I’m not going anywhere so long as you don’t give me a reason to,” I whisper.

His hands cup my face as his body once again presses against mine. “Tell me you won’t let another man touch you.” His words are raw with desperation. “So long as I don’t give you a reason to leave, I need to know that this—” His thumb tugs lights at my bottom lip before his knuckles trail gently down my throat and chest until his hand cups my breast. “And this—”

I gasp when his thumb intentionally swipes across my straining nipple, only now realizing I must have dropped my blanket somewhere along the line. I’m so lost in the feel of his touch that I’m practically panting when his palm cups my sex over my panties.

“And every delicious inch of this … is mine.” His forehead comes to rest against mine, his eyes pressing tightly shut. “Jesus, you’re wet for me already.”

I watch in fascination as his eyes pop back open with an intensity that borders on madness. “Tell me, Amelie. I need to hear you say it.”

I’ve fantasized about how it would feel for someone to look at me with the same degree of unguarded desire as I see in Isaac’s stare. Like I am the center of his entire universe. Surely, no greater feeling exists.

I would give him everything in my possession if it meant I could bask in this glow for a moment longer. The promise of monogamy is hardly any price at all.

“I won’t let anyone else touch me. Only you.” The words tumble from my lips as though they’ve been perched there for days, waiting for their cue.

Isaac’s lips crash against mine.

It’s so unexpected that I gasp and stiffen before melting into his arms.

This man only knows the tip of the iceberg in regard to my crazy life, but he didn’t run, and I’m overwhelmed with dizzying relief. The heady taste of his tongue swiping against mine has my eyes rolling back in my head. I have to cling to him to keep myself upright.

Isaac doesn’t kiss. He devours.

The ravenous intensity of his lips moving against mine makes me feel like the greatest treasure in the world. Like there is no world without me in it.

I’m instantly addicted.

When he pulls away, I have to fight back a swell of panic in my chest.

“I know I said I’d only ask those two things of you, but I have one more to add.”

My defenses are too intoxicated from his kiss to raise an alarm. I peer up at him with a lopsided smile. “What’s that?”

“Swear to me that you’ll tell me if this Society contacts you? If you feel in danger in any way.”

“Okay,” I breathe, in awe that he took me at my word about The Society. As though my safety is of more importance to him than validating my claims of a threat.

If that’s not devotion, I don’t know what is.

“You know,” he continues, his voice dropping an octave. “There are other ways to handle issues like that. Ways that don’t involve the police.” He makes the comment casually, like tossing a bit of bread onto the surface of a lake to see if it floats.

I know what he’s implying, but I’m stunned that he’d offer such a suggestion when we’ve spent so little time together. My sister’s husband is Irish mob. I know a whole subset of people who live outside the law. Could he be one of them? Or is he simply taking inspiration from movies without any real knowledge of how these things work? I didn’t want to make assumptions about his menacing appearance, but having a criminal association would track, and it would explain why he wouldn’t scrutinize the existence of The Society.

Maybe he’s the answer I’ve prayed for.

Even my inner voice whispers the thought, afraid to hope.

I’ve been burned so many times by life that I can’t jump blindly. I can give him a chance to prove himself, but that’s the best I can offer, no matter how tempting it may be to finally not feel so alone.

“Who are you, Isaac?” I ask quietly. His answer threatens to bring me to my knees.

“I’m the man who’s going to keep you safe.”