This book is the sixth book in the internationally bestselling Eagle Elite Series. It's an interconnected stand alone novel with no cliffhanger.
Twenty-Four hours before we were to be married--I offered to shoot her.
Ten hours before our wedding--I made a mockery of her dying wish.
Five hours before we were going to say our vows--I promised I'd never love her.
One hour before I said I do--I vowed I'd never shed a tear over her death.
But the minute we were pronounced man and wife--I knew.
I'd only use my gun to protect her.
I'd give my life for hers.
And I would, most definitely, lose myself, to a dying girl---a girl who by all accounts should have never been mine in the first place.
I always believed the mafia would be my end game--poisoning my heart, while it claimed my soul. I could have never imagined. It would be my redemption.
Or the beginning of something beautiful.
The beginning of her.
The end of us
"Buy me a gun like that… better yet, can I have yours?" "Hell, no!" He gripped his gun like it was a small child. "Nobody touches my gun." "Which one?" I winked. "I'm game for both." "Unbelievable." He swore. "How are you joking right now?" I reached for his hand then jerked him against my body. The gun clattered to the floor. "Kiss me." "Andi—" "You know you want to." His eyes were burning holes through me. "And your fighting skills, kinda hot, minus the torture part." I kissed him hard on the mouth. With a groan, he lifted me into the air and slammed me against the picture less wall, his boots crunching glass beneath them. I pushed back; he stumbled, his legs colliding with one of the coffee tables. A vase hit the floor. I smirked as he pushed the rest of the contents off the table and lifted me onto it. My legs wrapped around his waist. His hands were already ripping my shirt off while I started unbuttoning his pants and sliding them off his narrow hips. The man was ripped. Chiseled, tightly packed muscles met my fingertips as I pulled his shirt over his head next. I could really begin to like black boxer briefs. His mouth was frenzied as he bit along my jaw then took my lips captive. His tongue wickedly teased. I couldn't get enough. I needed him to kiss me harder. With a groan, I tried to pull him onto me, but he wouldn't let me. Instead, he jerked back then reached for something next to me on the table. The knife. "Trust me," he whispered, before pressing it against my chest and sliding it down the front, cutting off my bra. It slid lower, down my hip. I shivered in response as goose bumps broke out across my skin. The knife dug into my hip and then slid against my underwear. He used the knife to dangle them in front of me. They fell to the floor. "Cute trick," I breathed. "I have lots of tricks." Knife still in hand, he gripped me by the arms and slid me backward across the table then crawled on top. He was like a beast stalking his prey. I'd never been so turned on in my life. He tossed the knife to the ground and pinned me against the table using his body. "Fifteen." He bit my lip. What was with him and biting? And why did I like it so much? My body couldn't help but respond, arching toward him, begging for release. "Aw, you gonna count for me, Dracula?" "I see what you did there." He licked my lower lip. "I think I like that pet name better than Italy." "You bite," I said a little breathless as his mouth hovered over mine, his body pressing me against the wood table. I could feel every hard inch of him. "I like it." He grazed his teeth across my stomach. His hands splayed across my belly as he slid then kicked his briefs off. Sergio was right in warning me. He wasn't about making love — but he was about making me want him more than anything in my life. Everything about him was hard — rough edges, nothing soft, nothing smooth. There was no taking his time or licking every inch of me. There was possession, plain and simple. No room for adoration in his mind. Just sex. I shouldn't have been okay with it. But for some reason, it excited me to know that this man, the one who was so haunted by life — and so controlled and effortless in his killings — couldn't control himself around me. "I warned you." His mouth met mine in a ferocious kiss, making me forget all the reasons I had in my brain for stopping him. "More," I whispered. "Beg." "More!" I screamed. He lifted my legs and hooked them over his shoulders. I couldn't help it — my eyes widened. And then a hard knock sounded at the door. And another. Sergio froze. I blinked, my eyes most likely mirroring the horror in his. He jumped off me and threw one of the blankets on the couch in my direction, just as the door opened. He didn't bother to cover himself up. I, however, wrapped up like it was zero below. "Holy shit!" Chase burst out laughing. "Really, dude? You do realize there's four dead bodies surrounding your little love nest?" Sergio started stalking toward him. I grabbed his arm and jerked him back. Did he not realize he was still naked? Nixon followed, his eyes scanning the mess of blood and bodies before turning to us. "Nice work…" "Amazing," Chase muttered. "Leave it to Nixon to comment on the dead bodies rather than the naked ones."