He shakes his head. "Enzo said he heard you dry heaving which means your stomach is empty." He places the tray on the nightstand before pulling my covers off of me.
I try to pull them back, but he keeps a hand on them. "Up," he orders, his voice harder than usual.
I press my lips together tightly, before sitting up. I swing my feet over the edge of the bed. He looks me over before picking up the tray and placing it in my lap. "Eat," he orders. I look down at the tray. The spaghetti looks good and I know if Donna fixed it, then it will definitely taste great, but I don't have much of an appetite.
Vito gives me a pointed look before moving over to the door and closing it. The moonlight is still drifting into the room, but he moves over to one of the lamps, flipping it on.
"Winter. I don't want to have to feed you, but I will if I have to," he warns, standing in front of me with folded arms.
I narrow my eyes at him, feeling disdain. I wouldn't be in this predicament where I'm throwing up all the contents of my stomach if it weren't for the fact that people are being shot down right next to me.
I don't even bother to say what’s on my mind, knowing I'll be ignored. Instead, I shovel the spaghettis in my mouth. It's tasteless as I go through the actions until most of the plate is gone. "I'm full," I say, looking up at him and holding the tray out slightly. "If I eat any more, I'll get sick again."
He stares down at the plate before his eyes meet mine. "One more bite."
I let out a sigh before shoveling one more bite into my mouth and chewing exaggeratedly. "What am I? A kid?" I ask when I take the final swallow under his watchful eye.
"That's what you're acting like, yes," he says, taking the plate and placing it on the nightstand.
I glare at his back as he moves over to my window and shuts the curtains. "I'm tired," I say and it's truthful. I want all this shit to be over with.
"Already?" he asks, turning to look at me. His eyes are emotionless, his arms folded over his chest as he leans against the wall right next to the window.
For the first time, I think I truly hate Vito. I've hated the others at one time or another. Enzo, Giovanni, Maximo, they're always doing things that require hate from me. Yet with Vito I've never felt that way, not even the day when he took me to the man's execution.
But in this moment as I stare back at him. Watching the way he judges me, his lips turned down into a frown, I fucking hate him.
"Could you just get out? I want to get a couple hours of sleep in before I'm thrown right back into the den of wolves."
I move to lay back down, pulling my sheets but Vito's suddenly across the room, ripping the comforter out of my grip and tossing it to the side. He stares at me, his jaw clenched, his gaze sharp, and his posture rigid.
I hit him, the smack resonating loudly through the room.
I do it without thinking and the second I do, I regret it. He hasn't done anything to justify me hitting him, not anything I didn't sign on board for at least. But I can't help the wave of bubbling emotions inside of me and I don't dare offer an apology as I stare at him.
His face is slightly red, the handprint from my hand on his right cheek. He stares down at me, breathing hard and I wait, my hands gripping onto my gown harshly.
He leans over until his face is right in front of mine. His warm breath moves over my face. His voice is low and coiled with tension. "Did that make you feel better?"
I can only stare at him, my jaw tight, because no that didn't make me feel better, not even close. There’s still this tight tension inside of me demanding to be satisfied.
My eyes drift down to Vito’s lips, to the way they're pulled down and oh so close to my face. And again, I act without thinking, pressing my lips to his.
Neither of us move for a second, our lips touching but nothing more until I move a fraction closer. Vito's hand wraps in my hair and he pulls, pressing my lips harder against his and I let out a startled gasp. He takes the moment to dip his tongue between my lips, drinking in the moan that leaves my mouth.
I reach out, gripping his neck roughly. I dig my fingernails into his skin as heat moves through my body. His lips move away from mine as he jerks my head back, his mouth dancing over the skin of my neck. Goosebumps break across my flesh.
My legs spread as he steps closer before he's lowering me back, my back slamming against the mattress. His hard body comes over mine and I wrap my legs against his waist, my head falling back to give him more access to my neck.
I know that it's wrong, that I shouldn't be allowing this to happen, to participate.
But with the hollow feeling in my soul, all I want is to feel.
And the way that Vito touches me, kisses me, it crushes the simple word and morphs into something stronger.
His hands slide down, moving over the silk gown before pushing under it. I arch forward as the tips of his finger brush over my clit, quickly and softly before drawing away. His tongue traces from my neck down to my breast as his hands continue to tease me, touching but not enough.
When his tongue trails to the top of my breast, he pushes the strap away, exposing me. His tongue circles my nipple and a jolt shoots through my body. He pushes the other side down, continuing to focus on my breasts.