CHAPTER 23
SALVATORE D’ALESSIO
I looked down at the girl sleeping peacefully in my arms — the girl I had claimed as mine, whether she liked it or not.
It was six in the morning. I'd barely slept four hours, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her.
Her long black lashes brushed softly against her cheeks. Her lips were slightly parted, her breathing gentle, like a whisper against my skin. I grazed my thumb along her bottom lip. She frowned in her sleep, tightening her mouth.
A small smile tugged at the corner of my lips. She was too damn cute. Too perfect.
I pushed a strand of her silky hair away from her face, unable to resist. Everything about her was addictive — her scent, her softness, her fire.
My eyes trailed to her neck, where vivid bruises bloomed like a twisted work of art.
