Surviving His Scars (Angels Halo MC Next Gen 4)

His nostrils flared, and I watched as his eyes dilated with pleasure and heat. “I need to feed you,” he said. But I thought maybe he was talking more to himself, especially when he muttered, “And then I can take you back to the room.”

I had to squeeze my thighs together, trying to alleviate the sudden throb between my legs caused by simply thinking about what would happen once we got back to the hotel. The night before, after returning from dinner, he’d spent the entire night learning what gave me pleasure and finally let me explore his delicious body in return. But I’d been tender that morning, which was why he’d insisted on spending the day sight-seeing rather than in bed as I really wanted to.

I didn’t feel as tender now, and I was aching for a repeat of the night before.

“I’m not all that hungry,” I murmured, looking at him through my lashes, hoping it was sexy, but secretly scared it made me look anything but.

Lifting our hands, he kissed my knuckles. “You are going to eat first, precious. Don’t argue with me on this.”

“Fine,” I said with a playful pout and saw his lips twitch, fighting a grin.

I loved that I’d made him smile so much all day long. He’d been doing it more and more as the day progressed, and it made his eyes shine whenever he gave in and let himself truly grin.

The waiter returned with our wine, and once Gian tasted and approved it, the guy asked if we were ready to order. I’d been so lost in the beauty of the sky and then Gian, I had barely glimpsed the menu.

Gian ordered for both of us, and I realized just how much he must have paid attention over the years when he ordered my favorite pasta. Happiness so intense goose bumps popped up along my arms came over me, and I couldn’t stop smiling as we ate our meal.

“What’s made you smile like that, precious?” Gian asked as we walked out of the outdoor restaurant. One of his hands was at the small of my back, guiding me toward his waiting car, where one man in a suit stood outside the back door and another sat behind the wheel. I felt the way his thumb was rubbing circles on the skin under my shirt, making me shiver and wish we were already back at the hotel.

“You,” I told him honestly. “Just being with you, sharing a meal together, it makes me happier than I can ever remember being.”

His other hand came around my front as he stopped walking feet away from our ride and turned me to face him. Right there on a busy Rome sidewalk for everyone to see, Gian lowered his head and kissed me breathless. When he finally lifted his head, he was breathing raggedly, his eyes on fire with need. “Let’s go,” he growled in that deep, sexy voice I loved so much.

Giggling, I put my hand in his and took off running the last few feet to the car. The quicker we got back to the hotel, the better. I heard him let out a puff of laughter as he scooped me up.

His man opened the back door for him, and Gian got in with me still in his arms, careful not to let my head bump the top of the vehicle. Once inside, he arranged me on his lap and buried his face in my neck.

I loved the way he was kissing me, but we had an avid audience. When I glanced at the two men in the front of the car, the driver’s eyes were glued to me, his brow puckered in a deep frown.

“Eyes to yourself,” Gian barked in Italian without even lifting his head. The driver jerked as if he’d been stabbed and hastily turned his gaze forward. “You’re not good enough to look at her.”

“Be nice,” I gently scolded him, even though I was thankful he’d gotten the man’s eyes off me.

Gian nipped at my flesh before raising his head and cupping one side of my cheek. “No one is good enough to look at you, my beautiful Monroe. I’m just the lucky bastard your heart chose to love.”

My eyes filled with tears, my love spilling over for him, but I silently begged him to say the words I ached to hear.

That he loved me.

As if he could read my mind but, for once, couldn’t give me what I wanted the most, he tangled his hand in my hair and pulled my head down for a long, deep kiss that effortlessly stole all the thoughts from my head.

Chapter 8

Monroe

I was fairly sure whomever my parents had watching me wasn’t actually doing their job. If they were, Mom would have already called and demanded to know all about the guy I’d been exploring Rome with for the past six weeks. But so far, neither she nor Daddy had mentioned Gian.

I was glad, because I wasn’t ready to share him with them. Telling them who he was and what he meant to me wasn’t something I wanted to explain over the phone. I needed to be in front of them, make them see he was a great guy who would always protect and love me. That was all Daddy had ever wanted for me, at least, that was what he said over the years as Mila and I were growing up.

They wouldn’t hold the sins of Enzo Fontana against his son. I wouldn’t let them.

Because I wasn’t blowing smoke when I told Gian I would always choose him. I didn’t want to live without anyone I loved, but I knew in my heart that if it came down to it, I would walk away from my family without a backward glance.

My soul would wither and die if I lost him.

“Are you hungry?” Gian asked as we walked toward the hotel, having spent the morning sight-seeing without his men driving us around for once.

The day he had arrived, he’d wanted to take me to his home outside the city, or the one in Milan, or even Tuscany, where he owned a vineyard left to him by his adoptive father. As much as I wanted to see them all, I figured at least someone on the hotel staff was being paid to make sure I came back every night, even if the person who was assigned to have eyes on me wasn’t watching me as closely as they were supposed to.