43. Juliette
Juliette
A fter John was gone, Dante decided to take us out to lunch in his grandfather’s car. We even put the top down despite the cold. I merely suggested it and he then insisted.
“Your wish is my command,” he said and I grinned like an idiot while my pulse fluttered.
The cold breeze froze my cheeks, but I didn’t care. I smiled happily, tilting my face up to bask in the sun. Dante looked in my direction, a spark passing through his eyes.
He remained silent as we drove, taking all the back roads into the heart of the city so I wouldn’t freeze. His thoughtfulness did some weird things to my insides, but I couldn’t exactly say I hated the feeling.
City noise surrounded us. The sound of the engine purred lazily. And my husband threw glances my way every so often, the heat in them enough to warm me from the inside as my pulse drifted between my thighs.
“Does it drive the same way?” I asked, because for some crazy reason I wanted to hear his voice. I wanted to know everything there was about him.
He flicked a gaze to me, smiling. Darkness glinted behind his eyes along with a feeling I didn’t dare label.
“Even better,” he drawled. “Now, the car is part of my grandfather and you.”
His words sparked something inside my chest and fireworks of emotions exploded through me. It was so easy to fall for him. I’d fought it and fought it for two years, only to end up here. In his car. In his city.
And I fucking loved it.
Hand on the wheel, he drove the speed limit and obeyed all the traffic laws.
There was something humorous about it considering his line of work.
I was a terrible driver. I cruised slowly through stop signs and always went over the speed limit.
It was the reason I’d managed to total one too many cars.
“Did I thank you yet?” His question pulled me out of my thoughts.
I smiled. “You have.”
He drove the car like it was an extension of him and I knew—I just knew—it was the right thing having it restored. I’d done right by him.
“Were you and your grandfather close?” I asked, although I knew the answer. If he cared about his grandpa’s car so much, he had to care about the man.
Dante nodded. “Very. Priest and he were close too.” A dark expression crossed his eyes, but it quickly evaporated.
“Our dad was often too busy and Mother was…” He paused, as if searching for the right word, but couldn’t quite find it.
“Anyhow, he was a good man. He’d bring Priest and me over to his place, then we’d work on cars.
Or his garden. And the whole time, he’d tell us stories about Grandma. ”
I chuckled, trying to imagine Dante working in a garden and failing.
“You and the garden are hard to imagine,” I said softly. His head tilted to the side, catching my gaze and holding it for a moment, before he returned his attention back to the road.
“Your grandpa sounds like a great guy,” I added. “Mine, well, Wynter’s grandpa really, he just likes to play chess and card games. I hate those, but Wyn is good at them.”
“Does that bother you?”
I shot him a curious look. “What?”
“That he’s not your real grandpa,” he clarified.
I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth, trying to think of how to respond. I never really thought that much about it. Usually I was glad Wyn would entertain him so he wouldn’t put me through the pains of playing games.
“No, not really,” I finally answered. “He was always good to us, treating both Killian and me like we were family.” I thought back to the one time I heard his protest about Killian inheriting the Brennans’ business.
Back then, I didn’t know we weren’t really Brennans.
“I understand now why Grandpa didn’t want Killian to inherit the Brennan empire. ”
“That’s shitty,” Dante noted wryly. “Liam raised you as his own. Killian should inherit. After all, he was raised as a Brennan.”
I shrugged. “Dad wants him to, but I think Killian is refusing. Especially now that Dad has a true son.” He nodded in understanding, but I could tell by the expression on his face he still didn’t agree.
“Was it a shock to learn that Priest was your half brother?” I questioned.
He shook his head as we came to a stoplight, then cast a glance my way.
“Yes and no.” When I raised a brow, he continued, “My mother was a bitch. She treated both of us poorly, but Priest more so than me.”
I swallowed, something about his tone warning me it wasn’t a good story.
“What did she do?”
Dante remained silent for a long time. The light turned green and the car drifted forward. Just when I thought he wouldn’t answer, his voice came through.
“Priest’s story is his to tell.” The darkness and vehemence behind those words sent a shudder through me.
“And yours?” I pushed, although I wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t fair to demand his story when I wasn’t quite ready to share mine.
“Let’s just say my mother liked to get back at our father by lashing out at us.”
His words sent shock rolling through me. Something pounded in my chest, clawing for revenge. For punishment at anyone who’d hurt my Dante.
My brows furrowed. My Dante.
When did I start thinking of him as mine?
* * *
Dante’s admission hung in the air as we ate our lunch.
His expression was darker than I’d ever seen it, and something about it didn’t sit well with me. I wanted to make him feel better.
We made our way back to his car parked in a private alley and he opened my door before I sunk into the leather seats. The roof was back on, and as he got behind the wheel, he put the key in the ignition and reached for the button to lower the roof back down.
“Don’t,” I rasped.
His eyes flitted my way curiously. Dark. Hot. So fucking inviting.
Something pounded in my chest, threatening to steal my breath away. Or my courage. So I acted.
He tracked my every movement as I leaned over to him and kissed him. My lips touched his to an old Italian song by Dean Martin. “That’s Amore . ”
I wondered whether it was love that I was feeling, but I couldn’t think about it right now. Instead, I let his scent soak through my skin. His warm, soft lips devoured me just as hungrily as I devoured him.
A moan climbed up my throat, and before I knew what I was doing, I left my seat to straddle him.
Our faces were inches apart, our breaths mixing as our hearts danced.
Love , I thought again as I traced my index finger along his bottom lip.
Those lips that always seemed to have a smirk on them when looking at me. Before, it annoyed me. Now, it excited me because it represented him . I couldn’t imagine my husband without that sexy smirk.
He parted his mouth and caught my finger between his teeth, nipping it.
I shook my head. “Ouch.”
It didn’t really hurt, but for some reason I liked giving him a hard time. Almost like foreplay. Maybe that was what the past two years were for us. Foreplay.
He hid his demons and I hid mine, but in the end, maybe our demons had brought us back together.
“Seats go all the way back,” I uttered softly.
Dante raised his brow in surprise. “And how do you know?”
I grinned. “I inspected your car before I let John take it. To ensure it came back in the same shape—minus the damage.”
Reaching to the side of the seat, I pulled the lever and the seat fell back in one loud thump, us with it. I pushed my face into his throat, inhaling him deeply, my thighs throbbing.
“Dante,” I whispered, grinding myself against his growing erection. “I want—”
“I don’t have any cuffs on me, Wildling,” he ground through clenched teeth. But even as he uttered those words, his hands found their way under my sweater. He pinched my nipple through the thin material of my bra and my head fell back.
“Are you wet for me?” he grunted as my hips rolled against his erection. The friction was so good, but not enough.
“Yes,” I admitted, nipping his throat. My hips rocked, my butt brushing his cock and each time a whimper vibrated in my throat. “I want—” What did I want?
“You want my cock?” he rumbled and a sharp sigh left my lips. It was exactly what I wanted. “How do you want my cock? In your pussy or your mouth?”
White-hot lust ignited through my veins like waves crashing against the shoreline.
“In my pussy,” I rasped, grinding my hips against his pelvis. He was hard, his length pushing eagerly against my entrance. Except our damn clothes were in the way.
His hands cupped my face and forced me to lock eyes with him. “Are you sure? This isn’t exactly the time or place.”
My need for him grew until it felt close to bursting. “Says who?”
His thumb brushed across my lips and down my chin. “I do. Our first time shouldn’t be a tumble in a car.”
His dick thought otherwise. He was so hard, I couldn’t resist grinding against it. He let out a grunt and a smug smile curved my mouth.
“Your cock disagrees,” I murmured, brushing my nose against his. “My pussy too.”
My cheeks heated at my words, but I refused to be embarrassed. I wanted him. He wanted me.
The buzz of the city was a distant noise. A soft melody came from the car speakers, although I couldn’t identify the song. The noise of the heater turned up, blowing hot air around us. All I could hear, feel, and smell was this man. My husband.
“Please, Dante,” I whined. “It’d make today perfect.”
It seemed it was all he needed to hear. “Get your clothes off,” he demanded, his voice full of gravel.
I didn’t hesitate. I fumbled and twisted, he helped as I got rid of the sweater, my shoes, then my jeans. I reached to unbuckle my bra but Dante’s hand came to mine.
“Leave that on,” he growled.
“But I want your mouth.”
His lips curved into a smile that made my insides clench. “You’ll have it, but there’s no fucking way you’ll be naked if someone passes by.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but he grasped me by the throat and swallowed my next breath in his mouth. He won, but so did I. The growl that vibrated in his chest told me his control was slipping.