“I’ll be fine,” I whisper, nails digging into his back.
He starts to move, careful at first, each thrust deliberate. Every push grinds against me, but he braces himself above me, hands spread wide, keeping most of his weight off so he doesn’t crush me. His palm steadies my ribs, protective, adjusting every time my breath hitches. The awareness of the injury makes each shift sharper, more electric. The rhythm builds slowly, his mouth never leaving mine, like he needs the kiss as much as I do. When I arch up, pain lances my ribs, but it only makes me cling harder. He curses, broken and raw, like he can’t decide if he should stop or fuck me harder. His growl answers the movement, ragged, like he hates the thought of hurting me but loves that I won’t stop fighting for more. Every stroke grinds against something raw inside me, pulling gasps and moans I can’t hold back.
“I thought I lost you,” he confesses into my mouth, thrusts growing harder.
My gasp tangles with his, my body breaking apart around him. I yank at his hair, dragging his mouth back to mine, making it clear this isn’t him taking, it’s me demanding. Choosing him. Even like this.
I wrap my legs around him, meeting him stroke for stroke, too far gone to respond in any other way, too far gone to pretend I don’t want every bit of him.
The pace builds, relentless, until my whole body shakes with it. The ache in my ribs is drowned in the rush of pleasure tearing through me. Heat coils low again, sharper, until it snaps. I cry out, clutching at him as another climax rips through me.
He groans deep, rhythm breaking, face buried in my neck as he spills into me, his body shuddering with release. For a long moment, neither of us moves. We stay tangled together, breathless, his weight heavy but careful, his hand still braced protectively against my ribs like he’s holding me together.
And when he finally looks down, his eyes catch mine. Ragged, unspoken truths burn between us. Fear, hunger, relief but neither of us says a word. We’re still tangled, breathless, his weight heavy but careful on mine when the sharp buzz of his phone cuts through the quiet.
Dante curses under his breath, forehead pressed to mine like he can will the world away. The vibration doesn’t stop. It keeps rattling against the nightstand where he must have left it, insistent, demanding. He finally drags his hand from my ribs and reaches for it. The name flashing across the screen makes his jaw clench, his whole body going rigid.
“Who is it?” My voice is hoarse, raw.
“Business,” he mutters, already swinging his legs off the bed. His tone is clipped, darker now, the warmth from moments ago shuttered behind iron.
I push up on my elbows, pain tearing through my side, but he doesn’t look back. The cool air hits my skin where his weightwas, and I watch as he snatches up the clothes scattered across the floor. His shirt is still streaked with dried blood, the black fabric stiff where it clung to me hours ago. He shoves his legs back into his slacks, the zipper rasping loud in the quiet, then yanks the shirt over his head like he doesn’t care that it’s ruined. He doesn’t bother with the tie, doesn’t fix the cuffs. Just buttons enough to pass for decent, jaw locked tight, shoulders rigid.
“Dante?”
“Get some rest. I’ll handle it.” His voice leaves no room for argument, but his eyes, when they finally meet mine, are full of worry.
The door slams behind him, leaving me with nothing but the echo of his absence, the smell of him still clinging to the sheets, and the hollow churn in my chest. Whoever was on the other end of that call didn’t just drag him away. They pulled us both back to reality.
14
DANTE
The buzz of my phone rattles against the nightstand, sharp and insistent, slicing through what’s left of the quiet. Katana releases a shuttered breath when I start to pull back, and it’s enough to stop me cold. I curse under my breath, dragging a hand down my face before reaching for the phone.
The vibration won’t stop. It keeps gnawing at the silence, demanding. The name flashing across the screen freezes my chest for half a beat. I kill the sound with a swipe of my thumb but don’t answer yet. Not with Katana watching me like that, her eyes still hazy, her body still trembling from my touch.
“Who is it?”
I don’t answer her straight. My jaw locks as I wrap my hand around the phone.
If Sable’s calling me, my world’s about to tilt sideways. I fed her Serrano’s brother, and in exchange, she gave me a fresh start. That kind of deal never comes clean and I owe her… again.
“Business,” I mutter, my voice clipped, colder than I mean it to be. I drag free of the sheets before she can press harder.
I drag on my boxers and shove my legs into the slacks, then yank the shirt on. Fastening just enough buttons to pass, thoughthe fabric reeks and clings to my sweat-damp skin that still smells like her. The floor feels unsteady under my feet as I slip into my shoes. My back’s to her, muscles strung taut, because I don’t trust myself to turn. She pushes up on her elbows, and the sound of her breath catching in pain makes me glance despite myself.
“Dante…”
Katana’s trying to sit up, pain tearing through her ribs, and the sound of it cuts me sharper than the phone ever could. She looks wrecked and furious and beautiful all at once, and the worst part is she thinks this is me leaving her.
“Stay here,” I rasp, softer this time, but no less firm. “Get some rest. I’ll handle it.”
Her eyes spear me, daring me to explain, daring me not to walk out. For a second I almost crawl back into that bed, bury myself in her again and pretend the world outside doesn’t exist.
But the phone keeps buzzing, insistent, rattling against my palm like a countdown.
The door shuts harder than I mean it to, leaving me with the hollow churn I can’t shake. Knowing damn well nothing good waits on the other end of this call.
