Quickly, I get out of bed, slip on one of his shirts, and throw the door open, expecting the worst.
Instead, I’m met with the sight of Dante frantically waving an oven mitt under the smoke detector to fan the smoke away. He’s wearing a fresh white t-shirt underneath a navy blue apron, and his butt is a sight to behold in those gray sweatpants. I lean against the doorframe and watch him with my arms crossed over my chest, shoulders shaking with silent laughter.
I must laugh out loud, though—or maybe he can feel my presence—because he whips around with a cheesy grin on his face.
“Good morning, beautiful,” he says happily. “I’m making breakfast.”
I push away from the doorframe and walk towards him. “It smells more like you’reburningit,” I say playfully.
As soon as I reach the kitchen, he grabs me by the waist and pulls me in for a kiss. His lips are soft and warm as they move against mine, making my toes curl and a torrent of butterflies erupt in the pit of my stomach. My hands drift up over his arms and shoulders until they tangle in the short, soft strands of his hair. He groans into my mouth when I tug at them gently.
How could I have thought he’d leave me?
When he pulls away, he softly kisses the tip of my nose and returns his attention back to the food. I peek around his shoulder to see that he’s completely burnt the bacon.
“I didn’t know you like your bacon extra crispy,” I tease.
He chuckles and shakes his head. “I got distracted and forgot to flip it.”
I hum, curious as I hop up onto the counter next to the stove. Dante removes the pan of bacon onto a cold burner and turns the overhead fan on.
“Distracted by what?” I ask.
He comes to stand in front of me, places his hands on either side of my hips, and leans in close until the tip of his nose just barely grazes mine. The intensity of his deep amber eyes makes my stomach do all kinds of somersaults, and his five o’clock shadow takes me back to last night; I swear I can still feel the prickling sensation of those little hairs on my body.
“I was distracted by you, little flower,” he says deeply, darkly. “The way you say my name, the way your hands feel when you touch me, the way you scream when you come.”
My face flushes.
“And that,” he says, tapping one of my flaming cheeks. “It’s so easy for me to make you blush.” He gently tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and kisses me again. “You will be my undoing, Essence Robinson,” he murmurs against my lips.
Since Dante burned our breakfast, we decided to go out to eat. He found a pet-friendly restaurant online that’s only five minutes away, but it takes us almost thirty minutes to get ready because he insisted on showering together.
If it wasn’t already obvious, the showering part of the shower didn’t happen.
When we’re done getting dressed, we take Lunchbox for a quick walk before going to the restaurant. It’s a really cute little family-owned place that boasts its inclusivity right on the front door.
The menu is expansive, even for breakfast, so Dante and I decide to order a few things to split and try. Then I order puppy pancakes with whipped cream and some cooked ham for Lunchbox.
“I’mstarving,” I moan as we sit at our table and wait for the food to come.
“I know, baby. Sorry about burning breakfast,” Dante says gently.
I wave a hand dismissively. “It’s okay. I appreciate the effort. Evan never cooked for me. He’d find a way to burn water if it was possible.”
It’s supposed to be a joke, but a shot of pain lances through me at the thought of him and his violent demise.
And when I look at Dante, I remember that I'm sitting with his killer.
When I think back to everything we’ve done in the past few days, and even the last six months, I'm filled with shame. Evan was a horrible person, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t think he had ever been unfaithful to me.
Not that it matters; the abuse he’d inflicted on me doesn’t justify my wrongdoings. Anyone else would tell me that he deserved to be cheated on, or that he even deserved to die. Perhaps that would be correct, but I'm not a monster.
Dante is. He savagely murdered someone to protect me, and I should be scared to be around him. Hell, I should have turned him in to the police a long time ago, but I’ve never felt unsafe around him.
Evan’s blood is on his hands, and yet I’d trust him with my life.
“What’s wrong?” Dante asks, breaking me from my thoughts. I snap my eyes to him and chew on my bottom lip nervously.
