He still doesn’t look at me. His shoulders are hunched and his hands hang loosely at his sides, as if trained to mask the pain but never show it.
With battle lines forgotten, I inch closer. I shouldn’t—the chemistry between us is still blisteringly intense—but the desire to soothe the agony in his eyes draws me to him like a moth to a flame.
My heart backflips when I meet him in the living room. Wordlessly, I encourage eye contact. When I get it, electricity hisses as erratically as the pounding of my pulse.
“She loves you. You know that, right?”
When he delays replying, I gather his balled hands in mine. Iunderstand his fear. I’ve experienced the same with Gabriele, and I imagine it growing worse when I’m finally granted custody.
“She may not be able to express it, Dante, but she shows she cares in actions.”
My limbs tingle when he sheepishly nods.
This is where I should walk away and maintain the arm’s-length theory I use with anyone not named Gabriele, but I can’t. I want to comfort him and weather him through his latest storm. I crave it more than my lungs crave their next breath.
Dante blinks when I weave my arms through his, then curl them around his waist. With my ear pressed to his chest, I offer him silent comfort. His heart gains an extra thump when he draws me in until I’m steeped in his masculine scent. Our heights differ so much that the buttons on his dress shirt dig into my cheek when I switch from my right ear to my left, eager to capture his smell on both sides of my face, and my hair gets caught in his beard when he rests his chin on top of my head.
As his fingers count the bumps in my spine, I grow tipsy on a scent I’ll never forget. It’s familiar and comforting.
It feels like home.
Snapping my eyes shut, I strive to block out the onslaught of emotions I’ve only felt with one other man before. It is useless. I’ve already trampled over multiple lines I swore I’d never cross with this man, so I’m not surprised when my hand slips beneath his crisp business shirt seconds after releasing it from the waistband of his trousers.
Dante’s muscles twitch when I run my fingers over the twin indentations in his lower back. Every minute flutter quickens his heart rate. It’s the simplest of touches but detrimental to my sanity.
I shift, needing to lessen the pressure between my legs. The tortured groan that rips from Dante’s lips when my erect nipples graze his chest smudges the lines even more. I’m desperate for skin-to-skin contact and apparently willing to get on my knees to make it happen.
Dante swallows hard when I back away, then try to lower myselfonto my knees. I saytrybecause before I can, Dante pulls me back toward him and crushes our mouths together.
With one hand on my ass and the other tangled in my hair, he lifts me until my legs curl around his waist and I’m grinding down on his rapidly thickening shaft.The way he lifts me so easily is a huge turn-on, but it’s nothing compared to the tingles that race through my body from his heart-stuttering kiss.
I’ve never been kissed like this.
Anyone would swear his entire existence depends on this kiss.
While lashing his tongue against mine, Dante moves us through his apartment. I assume he’ll take us to one of the many bedrooms on the far side of our shared abode, so you can comprehend my shock when he walks us toward the mattress he plucked me from twenty minutes ago.
Through kisses and moans inappropriate for someone who’s meant to be keeping their distance, Dante pulls my shirt over my head, unlatches my bra, then disposes them both halfway across my cramped apartment.
I work as quickly and efficiently to strip him as bare as his attention always makes me feel. I fiddle with the pearl buttons of his dress shirt without removing my lips from his mouth.
Once his fantastic pecs and ripped abs are exposed, I shift my focus to his belt. As one hand tugs on the buckle, the other strokes him through his pants.
Somehow, he gets even harder.
He’s impossibly large, and more than my mouth waters when his erection springs free from his boxers.
I’m drenched front to back.
With a growl, he slaps away my hand before it can circle his fat cock, and then he tosses me onto the bed.
“I’m not done kissing you yet,angelo.”
Cupping my butt, he drags me to the edge of the mattress before shifting his torturously delicious kiss from my mouth to my pussy.
He doesn’t waste time with unnecessary formalities. He spreads me wide with his shoulders, stuffs his hands under my ass, then sucksmy clit into his mouth. My scream ripples in the evening air when he pierces his tongue deep inside me, followed by a long, leisured lick, triggering an immediate orgasm.
“Oh god…”
