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“Oh, yeah?” I ask, driving into her.
She gasps. “Okay, well, I do need a minute to recover.”
I nip her earlobe. “Fifty-five seconds.”
“What are you—” she sucks in a breath as I pinch her nipple. “Dante.”
“Forty-five,” I whisper before capturing her lips with mine.
Her arms instantly wrap around my neck, and I lose count of the seconds she’s supposed to have left, but it doesn’t seem to matter, as with a moan, Alessa starts rocking on my cock, making every coherent thought in my head disappear.
49
ALESSA
“Hey, it’s my hospital bag,” I yawn as I settle myself on my favourite stool by the kitchen island while Dante puts the coffee machine on. Little sleeping has been done in the last few days, but you won’t hear me complaining. I’m in two minds about getting up to get the bag and staying right where I am with my butt firmly placed on the comfy seat watching Dante’s tattoo-covered back while he makes me a coffee.
Gracefully, Dante moves around the kitchen, captivating me with how at home he looks. My gaze roams over his body, noting the flex in his arms as he pulls breakfast ingredients out of the fridge before placing them next to the stove. It’s a pleasant distraction from a subject I know I’ll have to broach soon.
“I didn’t realise you can cook,” I muse, genuinely surprised as he places strips of bacon under the grill. Somehow I never imagined Dante as the cooking sort.
He shrugs, cracking eggs into a bowl. “We didn’t always have a chef. After my mum passed away, Massimo was too busy with the Family to worry about minuscule things such as feeding his children. Someone had to step up.”
I swallow. “Yeah, I guess we’ve got that in common—having to grow up at a young age.”
Dante visibly stiffens, and too late, I realise my blunder. Of course, reminding him about how I grew up was not my best idea. “Where’s your chef, anyway? Lorena was it?”
“I let her go.”
My jaw opens, half in mourning for all the deliciousness I’ll never taste, half in shock. “Why?”
“She disrespected my future wife in my house.”
I blink. “But—that was weeks ago.”
He looks at me pointedly. “Yes.”
“So you fired her today?” I glance at the glinting diamond on my ring finger.
“No.”
“While I was in the hospital?” I play with the band, twisting it side to side.
“No.” He says from behind me, his breath making a strand of my hair flutter.
“When?” I lean into him as he nuzzles my neck.
“The minute Angelo told me what she implied. So probably about an hour after she said it.”
I gasp. “But—”
“What part of ‘you were always meant to be mine’ don’t you understand,Fata?”
A shaky breath escapes my lungs, my body lighting up just at his proximity, but as quickly as he appeared behind me, he is gone, leaving me cold, breathless, and buzzing with need.
Stunned into silence, I stay seated as the turmoil of emotions within me dies down. When I’m sure I’m no longer in danger of turning into putty, I clear my throat, pushing away the lingering thoughts about Lorena and focusing on Dante, who is now expertly mixing eggs.
When he notices me watching him, he smiles at me,then turns to pass me a cup of coffee. I want to relax into this domestic scene, but there’s a question that has been lingering in my subconscious for the past week.
