Page 46 of Ruined Vows (Borrelli Mafia #5)

VUKAN

FIRST SIP OF FOREVER

T hen she closes her mouth again, frowning into her cup. Her lips give her away. They aren’t moving at all. That’s so unlike her.

“I’m fine,” she says finally. But she’s not. She’s torn between the past she can’t leave and the future she wants.

I lean back in my chair, fighting the urge to yank that cup out of her hands to force her to look at me.

She sits across from me, a vision in Prada, sipping her drink like she doesn't know the desire burning in me is killing me. I rest my sunglasses in the collar of my black button-down, with my sleeves rolled up. Casual, calculated, not smiling, but close enough.

She clutches her cup as if it can protect her.

But nothing will protect her from me. Nothing will. I’m a man who takes what’s his and she is mine.

“You’re a terrible liar, Princeza,” I murmur, letting the roughness bleed into my voice.

The softness around her mouth falters. Good. I want her, bareback, and on all fours. I want to enter her slick folds because I know she’s dripping for me, even now. And this isn’t the time to try to bluff her past the issue, namely, me .

She huffs, but it’s barely a protest.

“You’re not exactly easy on the nerves,” she mutters, almost shy.

I stretch my legs out under the table until my boot slides against hers, my touch deliberate and steady. A touch meant to let her know I’m here and that I’m not going anywhere.

Her eyes snap up, catching mine. She’s beautiful.

“If I make you nervous,” I say, my voice dipping low enough to make her shiver, “you should stay closer.”

Close enough to feel how hard I am just thinking about pressing her up against the wall. Of claiming her lips, but this time, not stopping.

She arches a brow—and I nearly groan.

“Closer to the danger?” she teases. She’s all fire and shows no fear in the face of danger, but when it comes to me, she’s petrified.

I lean back, dragging my gaze over her, slowly and unrepentant.

“No,” I growl. “Closer to the man who would burn cities for you.”

Her breath hitches. A flicker of heat crosses her lovely face as she blushes because I hit a nerve. And all I can think about is how she’d taste if I kissed her right now. How she'd whimper when I finally gave her everything she didn’t even know she was asking for.

“You’re impossible,” she says, gripping her coffee drink tighter like it’s the only thing holding her together. And perhaps it is.

“You’ll get used to it,” I say. But my hands curl into fists under the table, because what I want—what I need—is her getting used to the feel of my hands on her skin, my mouth on her throat, and my name on her tongue and my cock in her sweet pussy.

The sunlight catches in her hair, and the world narrows to nothing but her .

I’ve memorized the faint flush on her cheeks and the soft curve of her mouth as the tension snaps between us like a live wire.

I clear my throat, forcing myself to breathe, and pretend I’m not a second away from ruining everything we’re pretending to build.

“What?” she asks, spinning her cup between her fingers, unaware she's tearing me apart without even trying.

“Nothing,” I say, the biggest lie I’ve ever told.

She narrows her eyes, not buying it for a second. “Bullshit.”

I grin dangerously, letting her see a flicker of everything I’m holding back.

“I just like seeing you here. I like being next to you, but what I really want is to be in you.”

Her lips part slightly, and it’s vulnerability at its best. She’s speechless—again.

If she leaned across the table right now, if she so much as whispered my name—God help me, I'd kiss her until we both forgot why we were fighting this. I’d take her right here, on this table, and say the hell with politeness.

But instead, I give her the space she doesn’t know she needs. She’s not a woman who responds to demands. And I won’t take her by force.

Then, I speak again, “Maybe tomorrow, you’ll let me buy you another cup,” my voice is thick with the truth I can’t say aloud.

She blinks at this. “You’re planning ahead now?”

I shrug, showing carelessness on the outside, but inside, it’s pure chaos.

“I’m getting used to you,” I smirk. “What can I say? A day without you in it means it’s a fucking terrible day.”

Bianca laughs, and I swear it breaks something loose inside me.

I’m not just broken, I have a jagged, splintering crack that will never heal right, but with her, it’s survivable. She stands, brushing non-existent crumbs from her jeans and walking away without a second glance.

And I stay sitting—because if I stand now, I might not let her go. A woman like Bianca won’t be bullied or coerced. That’s why I’m coming at her head-on.

I want to crush my mouth to hers and show her how far gone I already am, but she doesn't look back.

But it doesn't matter. There’s nowhere she could go that I wouldn’t follow, even if it damns us both.

She walks away, head high and shoulders stiff, as if she doesn't feel me watching her. But what she doesn’t know is I’m a breath away from forgetting why I’m supposed to let her go.

Bianca

I feel his eyes burning into me as I leave. I don’t look at him because I can’t. Because if I do, I won’t leave.

I toss my coffee cup into the trash and pretend my hands aren’t shaking.

Every step away from him feels wrong, like it’s final. Like, he might not come back.

He lets go, and God—that hurts more than it should.

I want to see if he’s still watching me like I’m his and he’s starving.

But I don’t because if I look, I’ll run to him.

I’ll say yes to something I‘m not prepared for, something I’m not sure I’d survive. So I keep walking. But the heat of his gaze clings to my skin. The words he didn’t say echo louder than the ones he did.

And what kills me most is that I wanted him to push me. Just this once.

Because God knows it’s only a matter of time before I fall. I can’t resist him forever. Not when he’s baring his soul to me. Not when he’s meeting every retort with affirming words and whispers of a man in love.

Vukan

I remain sitting for all of three seconds. Three seconds of lying to myself. Three seconds of pretending I’m stronger than this. Then I’m up and moving. I’m crossing the space between us like a downhill skier, fast and with precision, before I realize I’ve made the decision.

“Bianca.”

She stops, halfway to the door, but she doesn’t turn around.

Just stands there—waiting, trembling, and barely breathing.

I close the distance with slow, deliberate steps, and I feel like I’m stalking her, like the wolf she should have known better than to tease.

When I’m close enough, I reach out—my fingers brushing the barest whisper against her wrist.

She shivers under my touch. I drag her back, gently but firmly, until she’s facing me.

Until there’s nothing between us but the heat and the reckless pounding of my heart, and her eyes lift to mine, wide and searching. And I see the fear, and the want. And in a way, I know she already knows she’s mine, even if the words haven't been spoken.

I cup her jaw with one hand as my thumb softly grazes her cheek.

She leans into it—instinctively, helplessly, and that alone shreds whatever’s left of my restraint.

“Vukan,” she breathes, like a curse and a prayer.

I lean down, close enough to feel her breath against my mouth, close enough to taste her sweetness in the air between us .

“I’m trying to do this right, Princeza,” I rasp, my forehead pressing lightly against hers. “But you’re making it so damn hard.”

She tilts her chin up like a dare. It’s like she wants me to lose control, and that she wouldn’t stop me if I did just that—take her. My hand tightens on her jaw. My other arm wraps around her waist, pulling her flush against me.

And for one wild, reckless second, I almost do it —

I almost crushed my mouth to hers. I nearly take what’s already mine. But instead, I breathe her in. I hold her there and feel her tremble. Now isn’t the time.

Instead, I murmur low against her ear, voice rough and filthy with promises I don’t dare make out loud. “Tomorrow, Princeza. Our next date.”

My voice is the law, and she’s wet for me, even now. Her chest gives away the fact that she’s on edge, the sexual edge. The dance we’ve been dancing has only one outcome. And it ends with her submitting to me.

I let her go because if I hadn’t, I would never have stopped.

And this woman deserves more than a man too far gone to give her a choice.