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“Twenty. Twenty-one next month.”
“I’m forty-two. And since I was younger than you, I’ve never had any problem getting women interested in me. Another thing you don’t know about me is that I’m in a motorcycle club. Now, not every woman goes for that but a lot of them do. Are you getting mehere?”
“Women like you,” I say sullenly.
His mouth twitches. “Yeah, babe. They do. And a lot of them over the years have gone out of their way to show it. Plenty of women would be happy for me to put a ring on their finger and a baby in their belly.”
“Then why?” It bursts out. “Why did you pick me? I want to know the real reason.”
The humor fades from his face. “The real reason? You really want to know?” I nod. “Okay. I’ll tellyou.”
Dante puts his mouth by my ear. “Because you’re a good mom. Because you have never once been scared of me. Because you like the way I fuck, and you fuck the way I like. Because you’re brave. Because you’re strong, so strong taking care of your girl, but you’re soft, like a flower, with delicate fuckin’ petals that bloom at my touch.
“Because you like to cook. Because you have a great ass. Because you’re funny. Because you work hard. Because I love the taste of your pussy. Because you’re so honest, you tell the truth even when you don’t want to. Because you’re beautiful.”
He kisses away the tears trickling down my face. “If all I wanted was a young woman, or a fertile one, I could have had my pick at any time in the last couple of decades. I picked you. If the world were gonna end tomorrow, and I had to choose who to spend my final hours with, I’d chooseyou.”
“Shut up,” I croak. “Stop talkingnow.”
Dante keeps using his mouth, but not for words. The kiss is long, and deep, and earth-shattering. When he lifts his head, I whisper, “I don’t deserveyou.”
“If you let me, I’ll spend the rest of my life proving you wrong.” I bite my lip to keep from bursting into sobs. “Is that ayes?”
“Yes.” I cover his face with tiny kisses. “Yes.”
He claims my mouth again, and the kiss is turning hot and heavy when there’s a tap on the door. “Sorry to interrupt,” Carlotta says through the wood, “but Sophie’s asking foryou.”
We look at each other. “For me?” Icall.
“For both ofyou.”
And that just makes it perfect.
