Promises and Pomegranates by Sav R. Miller

All my life, I chased bruised cheeks and bloody knuckles, created
brokenness beneath my fingertips because I thought it would make my Papá
happy. That he’d see me as more than his little mafia princess, and maybe let
me live the life I wanted.
Until last Christmas, I didn’t realize the pleasure that could blossom from
having someone else do the breaking for you.
Swallowing around the lump of desire wedged in my throat, I move to
turn away from the bathroom, immediately colliding with a familiarly rigid
chest.
My heart thumps wildly against the ribs caging it in, keeping it from
bursting free.
“Kallum,” I breathe, my eyes finding his even though I know I shouldn’t
dare look. Not after everything he’s pulled. And yet, like a moth to a flame, I
chase his heat.
His eyes darken, the mahogany color eclipsed with lust, flickering over
me as his hand brings the meat of a Granny Smith apple to his lips.
When he bites down, juices sparking in various directions, I feel the
crunch in my core. It echoes in my ears, my gaze falling as he pulls the apple
away to chew, his mouth moist as it moves.
A pulse vibrates between my legs, the dangerous expression on his face
making me dizzy.
His throat bobs as he swallows, taking a step closer even though we’re
already flush with each other. Blood rushes between my ears, temporarily
stalling the parts of my brain that process logic and reason, making me forget
every single reason I have for being wary.
“Fuck,” he says, his voice little more than a husky whisper, “my name
sounds damn good on your tongue, little one.”
“Wh—where are my clothes?” I stutter, amazed at my ability to form that
coherent sentence, when all my brain can think about is his lips on mine.
“Unpacked and hanging in the hall closet. I didn’t think you’d be up
before we landed.”
He takes another step, pushing me back over the threshold to the
bathroom.
“My dress?”
A muscle tics in his jaw, making a dimple appear in his left cheek.
“Incinerated. Took care of that before we left the airport.”
My mouth parts, shocked. “You burned my wedding dress?”