Devil's Thirst (The Moretti Men, #1)

by Jill Ramsower

She’s not as pliant as I recalled her being that one and only time we met over four years ago. The forested depths of her evergreen eyes are as haunted today as they were back then. It’s her defenses that have changed. She used smiles as camouflage when she was younger, whereas now, her outer layer is cool-tempered steel, able to deflect rather than simply hide.

I’ll prove to her that my brand of fucked up is what she needs. It may be a challenge, but that doesn’t worry me. I can be relentless when it comes to getting what I want. And I don’t just want Amelie Brooks; I’ll go fucking insane without her.

“I trust you,” I say with quiet certainty. “You trust me to keep you safe, but what about this?” His right hand collars my throat and guides me closer to him. “Do you trust me with your body, too?” I can hear the hidden longing and anticipation feathering his words. Sensing the intensity of his desire for me helps calm my fears, though my heart continues its frantic pace. “I do.” The breathy admission is a relief. A release of sorts. Sante’s thumb ghosts across the bruise on my jaw. “I will handle this,” he murmurs almost to himself. “I swear to you, I will do everything in my power to make sure no one ever hurts you again.”