Eventually he pulls back and looks at me with eyes that are still too vulnerable.
“I’ll be right back.”
He disappears into the bathroom and I hear the shower turn on. When he comes back fifteen minutes later, he’s clean but still tense, wearing just sweatpants and nothing else.
His body is as I remember it to be; muscles and old scars. I’ve seen it before, but tonight it hits differently. Tonight I’m seeing him vulnerable and bare.
And I realize this man has been alone his entire life. Fighting and surviving alone. Trusting no one. Until now.
He sits on the bed beside me and for a moment we just look at each other. Then he kisses me.
It’s different from before. Less angry, and more desperate. Like he’s trying to prove to himself that I’m real and alive and here with him.
I kiss him back with equal need, my hands sliding up his bare chest to his shoulders.
I pour all my soul into kissing him, my fingers finding their way up his hair, caressing his scalp softly, earning me a hard groan from Dante against my lips.
I’m here,that’s what I send across to him, and somehow I can feel him relax in my arms.
He pulls me into his lap, careful of my injured arm, and deepens the kiss until I’m breathless. His hands are everywhere, but gentle, worshiping rather than claiming.
It takes my breath away with how careful he is being. I’ve never seen this side of him.
When he pulls my shirt over my head, his movements are slow and respectful. Like I’m something precious instead of something he owns.
He lays me back on the bed and trails kisses down my neck, my collarbone, the valley between my breasts. Taking his time to savor every inch.
“Dante,” I breathe, and his name comes out needy.
“I need this,” he says against my skin. “I need to know you’re alive. Hell, I need to feel you.”
“Then take what you need.”
He does, but not with the rough possession I’ve come to expect. This is tender, his mouth and hands learning every curve and hollow of my body like he’s memorizing me. I think he is.
When he finally enters me, it’s slow and deep, his forehead pressed against mine, his eyes locked on my face.
“Don’t leave me,” he whispers, and the vulnerability in his voice makes my throat tight. “Don’t ever leave me.”
“I won’t. I’m here. I’m right here.”
We move together, I watch how our hips meet and unconsciously my teeth find my bottom lips and I can’t help the sweet moan that escapes my lips.
“Fuck. Fuck, Scarlett. What are you doing to me?” Dante’s groans in my ear send shivers all across my body, his words travel down to my core and it’s less about the physical pleasure and more about the connection. The need to be close. To feel alive after coming so close to death.
I feel it too.
“Please.” Without thinking the words fall out my mouth and I see Dante’s eyes as he thrusts in faster. His groans getting louder, with every thrust of his hips, I could feel the vibration building up my legs.
Oh Lord.
Dante pulls me closer, not slowing down his thrust rhythm, then I see a slight grace against my neck then a sharp tingling pain.He bit me.
Dante bites me and that is my undoing, I’m coming faster than ever. That doesn’t stop Dante because he goes even faster and the sensation builds again, my toes curling hard against the bed.
When we both finish, he doesn’t pull away. Just holds me against his chest while our breathing slows, his hand stroking my hair, while still inside of me.
“I need to tell you something,” he says after a long silence.
