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Our guilt had been ill-placed, and it had almost broken our family. I couldn’t bear to see it break us. But I also didn’t know what to say. Because unlike my parents—Dario and I were to blame. Hawk had been the dynamite, but we had lit the fuse.
“Just love me through the cracks.” His voice was gruff, and when he pulled me to him, I flexed into the warmth of his chest.
“You’re the only thing holding me together, Bell. Just tell me you won’t give up on me.” He kissed my forehead, then my cheeks, the brush of his lips tender, then almost desperate. Dario needed me. Me. In this moment, he wasn’t the arrogant alpha male I knew. He wasn’t the King of Vegas. He was stripped bare of anything outside of this room, and he was mine. Needed to be mine. And I would never give up on him. Never.
I lifted my mouth to his. “I won’t give up on us, Dario. I love you.”
His mouth pressed against mine and I tasted, in the moment before he returned the words, his pain.
He was broken. Like me.
Love me through the cracks.
I would. I did. There was no way I could walk away now.
Nineteen
BELL
I woke up to SILENCE. Cool room, warm bed, the sight of Dario shaving at the sink. His back muscles were insane, rivulets of dips and curves that had my fingers itching to pull back the sheets and explore. He wore black boxer briefs, the underwear’s package open on the bed. I sat up, holding the fluffy white blanket against my bare chest, and eyed the gold bag at the entrance to the bathroom.
“Good morning.”
He turned at the words, half of his face smooth, a razor in hand. It was a good look. I pulled the blanket back and slid off the bed, walking toward him.
“That’s a sight I could become addicted to.” He reached for me, pulling me against him and I raised to my toes, kissing him.
I tugged the razor from his hand. “Let me finish.”
His hands settled on my bare hips, slid upward to my waist, and he lifted me up, setting me on the marble surface, a wicked gleam in his dark brown eyes. The counter was cold against my ass, and when he pushed my knees open and moved closer, the feel of air between my legs felt deliciously sexual.
I admired him from this new angle. Still gorgeous. Still ruggedly wild and untamable, even with white foam over half his face. I lifted the razor and pressed the blade of it against his cheekbone.
“Ever done this before?” he asked.
I met his eyes. “No. So be still.”
A smile ghosted across his lips. I held his chin still with one hand and dragged the razor down, a path cut between the white.
“You’re beautiful when you concentrate.”
I smiled and pulled away, leaning to the right and twisting the handle of the sink. Water gushed, and I rinsed the blade underneath it, then returned to his face. I was halfway along his jaw when his hand brushed over my breast.
Pausing, I met his eyes, which held mine. “You’re not behaving.”
“Your nakedness is distracting me.” His palm was warm, his fingers gentle, and he closed his hand softly around my breast, my skin awakening under the contact. I let out a breath and finished the razor’s path.
Lifting it from his jaw, I leaned right to rinse the blade, and almost came apart when he tugged softly on my nipple.
“Dario…”
I sat back in place, focusing on his cheek, starting a short stroke down his face. His second hand joined the game, tickling the top of my free nipple, and my knees parted a smidge out of reflex.
I struggled to control my breath and carefully moved the blade across a fresh patch of skin. His eyes met mine, and he reached up, gently swiping the tips of his fingers from my lips … all the way down the center of my body … down to my clit.
I lifted the razor from his face before I nicked it. “You’re going to make my pussy drip all over this counter if you don’t stop.”
It was a sentence that unleashed a beast. The razor flew aside, his arms wrapped around my waist, and I was off the counter and against his chest, his hands on my ass, carrying me easily, my legs wrapping around him, our mouths colliding in a hot tangled mess of passion. Shaving cream smeared under my fingers, I tasted it in our kiss, his body still warm from the shower, a landscape of slick muscles against my skin.
We fell onto the bed, and I yanked at his underwear. A half breath later, he was inside me. God. Fuck. Yes.
Meredith and I had eaten at Transit a dozen times before. She got the rainbow roll. I liked surf ’n’ turf. We’d flirt with the sushi guy and sit at the bar. If we were chatty, we’d get edamame and split some tempura.
