"Look at me," he says.
I look at him.
His face is above mine, his jaw tight, his eyes dark and open and finally here.
With me.
That does it.
I come with his hand on my cock and his cock inside me, every piercing dragging hard through the center of me. I spill across his hand, clenching around him, and his rhythm breaks. He drives in one last time, deep enough that my breath tears out of me. His forehead drops to mine, and I feel him pulse inside me.
"Cole—cazzo—Cole."
He stays inside me. Forehead to forehead. His thumb traces my cheekbone. Slow.
"You made me say please," he whispers. "In two languages."
"Someone had to."
He pulls out slowly, holds the base of the condom, strips it off and ties it. He leans over the edge of the bed and drops it in the trash without looking. Then he rolls onto his back beside me. His hand finds mine. Laces our fingers.
"You know," he says, his voice rough.
"I know."
"I should have told you."
"Yeah."
Silence.
His thumb traces my knuckle.
"What are you going to do?" he says.
I stare at the ceiling. "I don't know, D."
His hand tightens around mine. I close my eyes. Dante's hand in mine. Maya behind her door.
The house settles. I listen for movement from the spare room. A shift on the mattress. A creak in the floor. I hear it. Small. The sound of someone who was lying still and just moved.
She was awake. She heard.
I lie in the dark and let that sit under my skin. Maybe she's angry. Maybe she's jealous. Maybe she's under the covers with her thighs pressed tight the way mine were pressed together at dinner while I watched them spar across the table.
Tomorrow morning she'll be in the kitchen, having heard everything.
My phone lights up on the nightstand. I reach for it with the hand Dante isn't holding. Maya. One line.
The walls in this house are thin.
Dante shifts beside me. His eyes are open. He saw the screen light up.
"Who is it?" he asks.
I turn the phone so he can read it.
His hand tightens around mine.
