Christmas with the Beast (The Fiore Family 1)

I’m lost for words, heart thumping. This has to be a dream. “I couldn’t…”

“You had a girlfriend. I get it.” She reads my response wrong.

“Girlfriend? I’ve never had a girlfriend.”

“Never? I expected you to have like twenty. Hell, I thought that kiss was something you always did to lay claim to your latest conquest.”

“So when you said that you could understand why I was single after the accident…” I have to comprehend what I overheard.

“I meant the angry attitude.”

Fuck, my heart’s dancing in my chest. “There’s only one thing that makes me angry,” I say while smiling down at her.

“Really? And what would that be?”

“Not having a chance with you. For two years I’ve lived with the idea that we could never be together.” There’s no way to hide my pain—it flows from my throat like a broken dam.

“Then stop hiding from me. I’ve been waiting years to even see you, Franco.”

“These aren’t my only scars, Isabelle,” I warn her, because my cousin and brother are right. The scars are healing, but not at the same rate or at all. If she wasn’t in the room, I would have probably collapsed in a chair, trying to keep from falling over. She gives me a renewed sense of strength.

“I have my own.” She tugs on her sleeve, revealing the small surgical scar on her shoulder, and then she presses her hand to her heart. I hadn’t forgotten that she had nerve damage repairs over six weeks ago. “Two years of heartache, Franco.”

“Don’t give me hope, because I might just kiss you.” I’m unbelievably tempted.

“You make it sound like a bad thing.”

“There’s no way I’ll ever be able to let you go.”

“Then don’t.” The vulnerability in her voice makes me want to cave, but I’ve hated myself for so long, how can she see past it?

“You don’t understand how bad it is.”

“Then show me,” she insists.

“You don’t know what you’re doing, Belle. We shouldn’t be alone together because I want to be inside of you, this minute.” She has no idea that once I take her, the only way she’s leaving this place is to go shopping or to visit our family or to the hospital to have our babies.

“We have all day to ourselves.” The slight moan sliding off every word with such intent drives me insane. I want to strip her down right here and stake my claim. Still, I take a deep breath and calm myself. “I’m not going anywhere, Mr. Fiore.”

I slam my mouth down on hers—it’s hard and fierce and over way too soon.

“You’re mine, Isabelle. I’m not letting you go, so you better be sure this is what you want.”

“Kiss me again, Franco.”

I press my hands onto the island behind her, pinning her to the edge and kissing her frantically because I’ve waited two long years to taste those lips, and I’m afraid that she won’t want me when she sees me naked. I have to steal these little moments before they’re cruelly ripped from me.

“Fuck,” I grunt, breaking out of our kiss, and press my hands against the wall, framing her head with them. “You’re killing me.” Our breathing is labored, and my ears are pounding with unmistakable hunger.

“Get over it. Show me all of you. From the feel of you, your cock’s massive, so I don’t think that’s what’s bothering you.”

“Sit down,” I command. Isabelle follows directions, sitting on the stool. I start unbuttoning my shirt.

“Woohoo, a strip show. I left my singles in my purse.” She pretends to look around as if she brought it with her.

“Stop teasing, woman.” I quickly remove my shirt, feeling stupid being on display especially when this moment means so much more than she can understand.

I lay my scars bare, waiting impatiently for her reaction. She takes a deep breath, frowning, and then she asks, “Are these the worst?”

“No.” I shake my head and take a deep breath before I drop my trousers, revealing the twelve-inch scar on my thigh where a piece of metal pierced through, nearly severing my leg. It missed my femoral artery by a centimeter.

She drops down in front of me and kisses the long scar. I groan, feeling a million volts of electricity shooting straight to my heart. Tears flood my eyes, but they don’t fall as I attempt to control my emotions. “Does that hurt?” she asks, looking up with eyes full of concern until she sees how hard my cock is, that’s right in her face.

She places a kiss over the material of my boxers and then she stands up, kissing my chest where there’s a massive burn scar just above my heart. “I’m sorry for all of the pain you suffered. And if you thought they would make me run? You’re wrong. I never forgot our one meeting. I asked about you, but your brother had a hard time talking about it so I didn’t push, even though my heart begged to know. God, how I’ve ached to see you again.”