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What a pair we make.
“You don’t like other women touching me?” he asks, taking a step closer to me but not closing the gap. I raise an eyebrow, my hand going to the thin gold chain on my neck, a necklace that means so much more than just religious protection. His eyes watch it, going warm.
“Do you like other men touching me?”
“Fuck no.” His words come quickly, definitively, and I give him a look.
“Exactly.”
“I can’t just dump her, fiorella. But I can tell her no more touching.” I’m appeased. But still, I like this. I like seeing how far he’ll go with it, like seeing how his eyes warm when he realizes he’s not the only jealous, possessive one in this relationship.
“What if that’s not enough for me? Even if she’s not touching you, she’s still yours.”
“She’s not. You’re mine.”
It’s starting to form in my head, the idea, the demand. But Dante—Dante sees it. He sees how I’m winding myself up, sees how I’m getting possessive and jealous and raging.
And he fucking likes it, the same way I like it when he does it to me.
What a fucked-up, toxic pair we make.
I wouldn’t have it any other way.
He reaches out, pulling me back to him, wrapping his hand around my hair like he likes to do. He uses the grip to force my eyes to his where I see that smile on his lips.
“I don’t know; maybe I’ll keep her around. I like seeing this. You getting all protective.”
I blink up at him, fighting a smile of my own at his words, at his challenge.
“Are you for real?”
He smiles, and I just barely manage to keep one off my face.
“Kind of.” I move to my tiptoes, trying to get our faces close before lifting an eyebrow and giving him a face.
“Break up with her, Dante,” I say in a whisper.
“No,” he says. That smile is wide now.
“No?”
“No. She’s a good cover.”
“Break up with her, Dante,” I say, the words nearly seductive, a demand. My hands land on his chest, the hair there scratching at my palms, and it has me questioning if what I’m about to do is wise.
“Or what?” He whispers the question, challenging me, on to my game as he slides a hand down my side. I can’t fight the shiver of his callused hands running over bare skin.
He can feel it.
He knows.
He also knows that what I’m about to say would be a punishment for me as well.
Worth it.
“Or I won’t fuck you again until you get rid of her.”
“Excuse me?” he says with a wide smile.
