She explodes.
Her pussy clenches around me in rhythmic pulses. The sensation drags me over the edge. I pull out and let go, spilling with a groan.
We stay frozen for a long moment. Connected. Breathing hard.
I press a kiss to Marina's shoulder. Then another to the back of her neck. She shivers beneath me.
"You okay?" I ask.
"More than okay." Her voice is hoarse. Satisfied.
She turns in my arms, pressing her face against my chest.
"We should probably get out," she mumbles. "Before we drown."
I reach behind her and turn off the water. The sudden silence feels heavy.
"Marina."
She looks up at me. Water drips from her lashes.
"Whatever happens next," I say quietly, "remember this. Remember that you're the only thing that matters to me."
Her brow furrows. "Dante, what?—"
I kiss her before she can finish the question.
Some truths are too heavy to speak.
Marina
Dante sleeps on his side, one arm tucked under the pillow, the other stretched across the space where I was lying. His face is turned toward me. Relaxed in a way I've never seen him when he's awake.
I pull on his discarded t-shirt. It falls to mid-thigh, soft cotton that smells like him.
The chair by the window becomes my perch. I draw my knees to my chest and watch him breathe.
How did I get here?
The question circles my mind like water down a drain. Two weeks ago, I had a normal life.
Now I'm sitting in a safe house, wearing a mafia enforcer's shirt, watching him sleep after sex that left me shaking.
Not just sex.
That's the part I can't wrap my head around.
I've had sex before. Plenty of times. With nice men who asked permission and checked in and made sure I finished. Polite sex.Safe sex. The kind that felt good in the moment and evaporated from memory by morning.
This isn't that.
I don't know when the line got crossed. Maybe when he kissed me on the couch after Titanic.
Maybe the line was crossed two years ago, when he carried me out of that apartment and sat at my hospital bed for days.
I chose to stay away.
But sitting here now, watching his chest rise and fall, I can't remember why I stayed away.
