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This is what I wanted to avoid all along.
“Whatever it is that you’re thinking, Emma, it’s not that.” Dante is speaking slowly, carefully, and something about that upsets me even more.
“Did you have a girlfriend the entire time?” I spin to face him, knowing I have no real basis for the accusation. I’m picking a fight, and I know it, but I don’t know what else to do. I don’t know how to just walk away. “Or is it new, since you knew this was ending?”
“Emma.” Dante walks towards me, his gaze intent on my face. “There’s no one else. There hasn’t been since before the first time we—”
His eyes slide over me, as if he’s remembering every time he’s ever touched me, and my heart slams into my ribs. “Don’t say that,” I whisper, and he comes closer, backing me against the counter.
“Why not?” he challenges. “It’s the truth. No one else, Emma. And I would be happy for there toneverbe. If you would just tellmethe truth—”
That catches me off guard enough to miss what he said just before that. “What do you mean?” I ask guardedly, and Dante shakes his head, letting out a sharp breath.
“There’s a reason you won’t let me take care of things for you. Why you won’t let me pay you more. Why you refuse the bigger tips I try to give you. It’s not just stubborn independence. Iknowit’s not. There’s something you’re hiding from me, Emma. And if you won’t tell me what it is—”
“What?” I glare up at him, having finally been given something concrete to latch onto. “You’ll force it out of me? Make me talk about things I don’t want to? Be themafia bossnow that we’re—”
Dante’s eyes take on a dangerous gleam. “Finish that statement, Emma,” he murmurs. “Finish it, if you mean it. Or—”
I know I should try to walk away. But I’ve never been one to back down first.
“Or what?” I ask, meeting his gaze with my own.
It’s the last thing I manage to say before his mouth crashes down onto mine.
His hands are under my shirt the moment he kisses me, hot and eager, sliding over my skin as he pushes my tank top up. I moan without meaning to, pleasure arcing over my skin with every brush of his fingers, and Dante laughs darkly.
“This was always going to happen, little bird,” he whispers against my mouth. “You couldn’t have left me tonight without this.”
He’s right, and for a brief moment, I hate him for it. But I can’t for long.
I would never be able to.
“I don’t want you to ever leave me.” He murmurs the words between kisses, dragging my shirt over my head, his fingers going to the clasp of my bra. “I want you to be mine, little bird.”
“You don’t mean that.” I gasp the words as his hands cover my breasts, molding them, his fingers plucking roughly at the nipples as his mouth covers mine again. He turns me with his body, backing me towards the stairs, and my hands press against the smooth skin of his chest. I want to push him away, and I want to bring him closer, and I want all of it at once.
“I’ve never meant anything more.” He backs me up further, my ankle bumping against the bottom of the staircase, and I gasp. “There’s no one else, Emma. There hasn’t been since the moment I saw you.”
And then he picks me up, and before I can protest that he needs to be careful of the new tattoo, he’s kissing me again.
I’m sure we’re going to fall down the stairs. He can’t possibly see where he’s going, with one hand pressed to the back of my head, holding my mouth to his as his other arm wraps around my waist. I cling to him, my legs around his hips, sure that at any moment, he’s going to trip. But Dante carries me up the stairs, all the way to the vast loft-like expanse of his bedroom, and to his bed.
When he spills me back onto the duvet, the look in his eyes takes my breath away.
“Only you,” he rasps, one hand going to the top of his joggers as the other reaches for the button of my shorts.
“You’ll forget about me,” I whisper it, almost desperately, as if I weren’t just thinking earlier about how indelibly marked on his skin I am. As if I didn’t take pleasure in that fact.
The way he looks at me tells me he’s thinking the same thing.
“How could I?” He draws down my zipper, tugging my shorts and panties down together and tossing them to the floor. His joggers follow, until he’s naked, too, his cock so hard that the tip of it brushes against his abs. I want to touch him desperately, and I clench my hands into fists to stop myself. “You’reonme. In me. For the rest of my life, I’ll never be able to forget you, Emma. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
And then his hands are on my waist, lifting me, pushing me back further onto the bed as he settles between my legs and hooks them over his shoulders.
There’s no teasing, no buildup to Dante’s mouth on me. His tongue delves between my folds, hot and urgent, sliding from my entrance to my clit in a long lick that leaves me trembling, my fingers clawing into the duvet. He flutters it over my clit, finding the rhythm he knows I want almost instantly, the hot, wet slide of his tongue nearly making my eyes roll back in my head. He devours me, as if he wants to make me come as fast as possible, and I know it’s not going to take long. Sensation bursts over me, making me writhe against his tongue and moan his name, hips bucking up against his face as his hand splays over my stomach to hold me in place.
“Dante!” I nearly shriek his name, grinding my hips against his mouth as I start to come, the throbbing between my legs spreading through me until I can hardly breathe. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up, only pushes two fingers roughly inside of me as I start to come, thrusting hard. I buck against his hand, moaning, feeling as if I’m coming apart at the seams as Dante strokes me with fingers and tongue, carrying me through an orgasm that feels more intense than anything I’ve ever experienced before.
