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

by Jill Ramsower

When I asked the masked man why he was here, his answer was you.

I realized that I wasn’t a passenger in my life. I was the fucking pilot. If I wanted things to be different, I had to get off my ass and make it happen.

“Sorry to burst your bubble, but that’s not how this works. You chose me. I chose you. We haven’t fucked, but that’s only because I want you to get to know me first. We can skip ahead, though, if it means you start to understand that you’re mine.”

“Any man can stick his dick in a woman. There’s no real value to that. A man’s worth is in his ability to provide and protect—to make his family’s lives better.” Again, I sneak a glance her way, and this time, that grin is practically splitting her face in two. “What now?” She giggles. “You callin’ me your family, Sante Mancini?” She’s teasing me, but it doesn’t feel like a joke. I wasn’t kidding when I called her my future wife. “So long as I’m breathing,” I say without a trace of humor.

“I stole it from security and made a copy.” “Well, that’s a little alarming.” “You’re telling me. That’s why I didn’t like you being in there alone. Who knows who else can get in,” he grumbles. “If I’d known stalkers were so considerate, I would have found one ages ago.” Sante bares his teeth, then takes a playful bite at the air. “Too late. And if anyone gets any ideas at this point, I’ll pluck their eyes right out of the sockets. Hard to obsess over someone you can’t see.” I look at him, knowing he’s not joking in the slightest. “You say the sweetest things,” I tell him in a tender voice to make sure he knows I’m not joking either.