24. Juliette
Juliette
I quickly closed the door of the bathroom and turned the lock.
It wouldn’t stop Dante from entering his own bathroom, but it made me feel better.
Catching my reflection in the mirror, I scrutinized my face. My eyes were bloodshot, but not from tears. Those rare drops from earlier on the cliff were long gone. It was from exhaustion. My bottom lip was red, bite marks from my nervous habit all over it.
While the water still filled the tub and bubbles grew, I washed the makeup off my face and brushed my teeth with a new toothbrush.
Then I slid into the tub and sighed with relief.
The warm water felt good on my muscles. The tension slowly seeped out of me with each minute that passed.
I even submerged my head underwater, letting the sensation wash over me.
For the first time in a very long time, I felt at peace.
I didn’t know what this marriage meant for me, but I knew one thing, he wouldn’t force himself on me. And that alone made up for all the stress of the last few days.
An hour later, I padded down the corridor, wrapped up in a fluffy, black robe that reached down to my toes and smelled like Dante.
It was much warmer than the one I wore earlier and covered up a lot more of my assets.
The clothes that Dante mentioned were all fancy lingerie and designer clothes, and I certainly wasn’t going to parade around wearing just lingerie.
I wasn’t an idiot and there was only so much restraint a man could have.
I was too tired to sort through the other clothes.
So here I was parading around in the fluffy, unattractive robe. I stopped by one window and the same view greeted me as it did back in Dante’s bedroom. Well, our bedroom. The large lake in the middle of the property. Dark woods in the background.
Peeling myself away from the darkness outside, I looked down the long corridor. I opened the first door. It was a guest room, and sure as shit, Dante wasn’t lying. The bedroom was decorated, but the mattress and box spring were missing.
“So fucking odd,” I whispered under my breath.
I moved down the staircase, leaving the exploring for another day. I knew where our bedroom was and the exit. Other than that, it was all unfamiliar territory. Just as I reached the bottom step, Dante’s dark hair appeared in the doorway and my steps faltered.
“You went out?” I asked, shocked.
It was obvious he did. It had started snowing and the soft veil of snowflakes on his hair made for a stark contrast. White on black. My eyes traveled over him. He was dressed in black sweats, black sweatshirt, and a pair of white running shoes.
His breathing was hard, but he wasn’t panting. Not like I would be if I went for a jog.
“Yeah, for a run, but it started snowing.” I glanced behind him as he shut the door. It barely looked like flurries. “There’s a snowstorm coming. I can smell it in the air,” he continued.
“Really?” I smelled the air. “The only thing I smell is our dinner. Dessert to be exact.”
“Trust me,” he remarked. “Tomorrow, we’ll wake up to everything covered in white.”
“Well, I hope we have plenty of food. Bread, eggs, and milk,” I said and then because I was nervous, I added, “And toilet paper.”
He chuckled, shaking the snow out of his dark hair. Then he kicked off his tennis shoes and left them by the door as he strode through the large foyer.
“Don’t worry, we have plenty of toilet paper,” he mused, then his eyes took me in and they’d darkened. Something possessive entered his expression.
“I hope you don’t mind,” I breathed. “There were no comfy pjs, so I settled for”—I lowered my eyes and tugged on the ropes of the robe—“this.”
He shook his head as if trying to shake off an image. He walked past me and headed for the stairs.
“I’m going to take a shower,” he remarked.
I nodded. “I’ll wait for you and we can eat together.” It was the least I could do. I couldn’t fight him at every turn. Even though not having my own private bedroom did annoy me. “I’ll go back upstairs with you. One of the people you gave off must have brought it up.”
He nodded in agreement and we made our way back up the stairs where the two dinner trays still sat, waiting to be devoured. Dante was quick to disappear into the bathroom and I held my breath, waiting for the click of the lock.
It never came.
I sat on the bed, my legs crossed and staring at the door. The shower kept running and running, while I chewed on my lip. I glanced around the room. There wasn’t even a television in here to keep me busy. My bags, along with my phone, were somewhere downstairs.
I was left with me, myself, and I, not very good company to be honest, to keep myself busy while Dante was taking a ridiculously long shower.
I chewed on my lip. Then on my fingers. I stood up, walked in a circle around the room, peeked inside the dinner trays to find sandwiches, salad, and a freshly baked cake.
My stomach growled in reply but I ignored it.
I told Dante I’d wait, so I’d wait. I walked back to the massive bed and sat down.
My gaze kept darting to the bathroom door, then to the clock. Back to the door. After ten minutes, I’d had enough. That had to be the longest damn shower. The sound of running water continued, so I jumped out of the bed and padded across the plush rug and hardwood to the door.
I raised my hand to knock and ask Dante whether he was alright when I froze.
Was that—
No, it couldn’t be. But then I heard it again. A faint groan. So I did what any self-respecting woman would do, I pressed my ear to the door.
Another groan. Oh. My. Gosh.
My cheeks caught fire. My body burned. Yes, I had panic attacks when I even thought about a man lying on top of me and having sex, but it didn’t mean I had zero sex drive.
And something about hearing Dante jerking off was just so damn sexy.
Images played in my mind how he’d look in the throes of passion.
So another brilliant idea hit me. I could watch him through the keyhole located below the doorknob.
Holy fuck, I was such a voyeur. It was wrong. I shouldn’t do it.
Another groan sounded from the closed door.
It’s your wedding night, my twisted mind justified, and I lost the fight with myself. Next thing I knew, I was peeping through the keyhole.
My breathing hitched. Dante DiLustro might be many things, but nobody could take his sex appeal away from him. He was so fucking beautiful. The sculpted, lean muscles. Slick, glistening skin.
And that ass. Oh my fucking shit, was it right for a man to have such a beautifully muscular ass?
My thighs clenched as I watched Dante’s head bowed, his bicep flexing with each pump, his movements jerky. Back and forward. Faster and harder. The muscles in his neck strained as he pumped himself.
Suddenly, I wished the stupid door was open.
The view was too obstructed. I wanted to admire him in full view.
His hips rocked faster, his fist pumped harder.
Wetness pooled between my thighs and my breathing hitched.
My heart raced in my chest, and I couldn’t hear anything but the buzzing in my ears.
Another soft groan vibrated against the tile, my husband’s head tilting back and his moans raspy. He came with a guttural sound, setting me aflame, and I had to bite into my lip to stop my own whimpering moan from slipping out.
My cheeks heated. My body burned. Then the shower stopped running and I bolted back to the bed like the devil was on my heels. I jumped on the bed, breaking a sweat. I slipped Dante’s robe off but then I remembered I was in only a pair of sexy shorts and a silky top.
“Shit,” I hissed, jumping out of bed again.
I was burning up. Like I had an honest-to-God fever. I rushed over and grabbed it, but instead of putting it back on, I started waving it through the air, hoping to cool off my body. If anyone would have seen me, they’d think me mental.
I probably was.
I waved the robe up and down, letting the air cool my skin and the whole time keeping my eyes locked on the door.
The door handle moved and I froze. A towel wrapped around his waist, Dante came into full view.
I remained staring at him, my hands still frozen midair with the robe hanging off the fingers.
Dante’s dark eyes met mine and I jumped into motion, wrapping the robe around me. Upside down. Perfect.
He cocked an eyebrow, waiting for me to explain what I was doing. There was no sane explanation on this earth that could work. So, I settled for the insane one.
“Chasing a fly.” Jesus fucking Christ. Of all the stupid things to say, I said this. Someone kill me now, I thought silently.
“Okay,” he muttered in an unsure voice. He probably thought I was crazy. He was looking at me like I had lost my mind.
He disappeared into the walk-in closet and I debated whether to die of embarrassment or just pretend this didn’t happen. I went for the latter.
I still had some people to kill.