29. Eve
29
EVE
T his was always going to happen. Still, I figured it would be on my terms when it did. So much of the last few months has been dictated and governed by him. I just hoped it would be something I’d have a little control over—a meeting set at my own pace. I hadn’t counted on the element of surprise, and now it’s a mess. A horrible, twisted mess.
Seeing Dante and my father together stirred up so many unwelcome memories for me. I was right back in that hospital room again, begging for mercy, begging for us both. Casting Dante as the ruthless killer, and not as the smart, conflicted man I’ve come to know.
I’m hurt and angry, too. He ignored my pleas for a guarantee not to harm my father. As a result, it’s broken something between us.
Then, there’s the lie he told—the one about his daughter. He knows I’ve seen the photographs. Did he think I’d simply forget about her? I assumed that with so much deception flying about there’d be some transparency between us.
I’m so na?ve.
This man will never open up to me. I will always be an outsider, even in his bed.
“Take me back to my apartment, Dante.”
There’s a pause. “Fine. I need to debrief Manuel anyway.”
“You mean you’re going beat the shit out of him again for daring to make friends with my father instead of pointing a gun at his head.” My words are as vicious as my temper.
Dante exhales loudly before reeling off my address to Joseph. Must he memorize every damn detail of my life ?
We pull up to the curb just as Anna is slipping out of my apartment block still wearing her red dress from the night before.
“Walk of shame!” she says with a grin, when she spots me exiting the vehicle, and then she stops abruptly when Dante appears next to me. “Seems I’m not the only one.” She raises her eyebrows in my direction, and I know I’ve got some serious explaining to do.
“Is Manuel awake?” snaps Dante, as Joseph exits the vehicle as well.
Anna glances at the tall American, and her eyebrows disappear again. “Wow, Evie, that’s some company you’re keeping. You and I really need to have that catch-up later.”
“I’d like that.” I step forward to give her a quick hug. “Did you have fun?” I whisper.
“Oh yes,” she says, pulling away, her green eyes glittering with mischief. “He was definitely worth the wait.”
“Manuel,” repeats Dante, his deep drawl slicing through our conversation. “Is he up?”
I reach out to touch his arm, silently beseeching my friend to answer. Hurry Anna, he doesn’t like to ask twice.
“Err, yeah, he’s up,” she says, staring down at my hand.
I feel a wave of sadness suddenly. In other circumstances she would have fired back with one of her feisty replies, something like, “Don’t be silly, he’s been up all-night ha ha.”
Not today.
These dangerous men and their sinister presence have stolen all of her sass, like Dante has stolen all of my innocence. The world will always be a darker place for us, now.
“Could you at least try to be nicer to my friends,” I say, as we take the elevator up to the fifth floor.
“They’re not important, mi alma ,” he replies, dismissively. “You have me now.”
Is he for real?
“You’re such an arrogant asshole, Dante. My friends will always be important to me.”
He curses something in Spanish and shoves his hands into his pockets. His black T-shirt pulls tight against his abs, making that fine definition clear to see. I look away quickly. I’m too mad at him to contemplate being turned-on. But there it is again, that persistent beat, thrumming away between my legs.
“Unbelievable,” I mutter, folding my arms and moving away. The elevator carriage is tiny though, and I end up crashing into Joseph. Wow. He’s another man built of solid muscle.
The door to my modest two-bed apartment opens into a light and breezy living space, with a kitchenette off to one side. Manuel doesn’t hear us enter. He’s leaning against the side of the breakfast bar, bare-foot, bare-chested, and devouring a bowl of my cereal like he hasn’t eaten in a month. Lucky Anna, I think, right before Dante and his posse start menacing up the place. All of a sudden, there’s not enough room for all the testosterone.
“Put your damn shirt on,” snarls Dante, and Manuel nearly drops his bowl in fright. Muttering an apology, he disappears into my spare bedroom.
“Stop throwing your weight around. This is MY apartment!” I tell him furiously.
“Get that son of a bitch out of here,” I hear him say to Joseph, ignoring me completely. He’s got that unnerving stillness about him again. It’s like the ominous tick, tick, of a bomb before it explodes.
I can’t bear to be in the same room as him anymore. His behavior is driving me crazy. Grabbing a bowl down from the cupboard, I tip way too much cereal into it before storming into my bedroom and slamming the door in his face.
Collapsing onto my bed, I take a mouthful and then grimace. It tastes disgusting without milk, but there’s no way in hell I’m going back out there to get some. Instead, I place the bowl on my nightstand and curl up under my silver quilt, catching sight of a framed photograph on top of my bureau. It’s me and Anna laughing, drinking, having fun… Our first year of college before life got complicated. I shudder at how much I lived under a cloud of ignorance before Dante Santiago stalked into my life.
Minutes pass, and then I hear the front door slam. There’s movement outside my room. The handle is turning. Dante doesn’t bother knocking, he just walks on in like he owns the place and stands there at the foot of my bed .
“You sick?” he demands.
“Sick of you ,” I mutter, refusing to look at him.
After a beat, he wanders over to the photograph. My eye line can’t help dipping to his gorgeous ass. Why does this devil have to be so desirable?
“What college were you at?”
“You know that already. You know everything about me, so why don’t we turn the question into a rhetorical one?”
“Northwestern.”
I lift my head in surprise. “Are you serious?”
“I was a bright kid.” He shrugs.
“Too bad it didn’t translate into adulthood.” I flop back down onto the pillow again.
He doesn’t answer, and I can’t be bothered to decipher the clues to his mind games today.
“Dante, listen—”
“I fucked up,” he declares roughly, shocking me into silence. “I should have given you that assurance about your father.”
My mouth falls open. “I thought you didn’t do—”
“I don’t, but it seems you’re pricking my conscience again.”
“I thought men like you didn’t have—”
“Nor did I.” He turns his head to look at me, and I see a brief flash of the storm inside. “This is an exception. You’re an exception.” He leans against the edge of my desk and crosses his arms. It’s like he’s bracing himself for my next intrusive question.
“You hurt me more with your lie than you did with your silence. ”
He frowns. “I never lie to you. Not anymore.”
“What about when my father asked if you had kids.” I emerge from the safety of my quilt and rest my back against the headboard, tucking my knees up to my chest and knotting my arms around them.
“I didn’t lie,” he repeats, gazing steadily at me, his dark eyes burning a hole in my face. “I did have a daughter, but she’s been missing, presumed dead, for fifteen years now.”
Oh my God.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I whisper, unable to process the horror of having to live with such uncertainty for so long.
He shrugs. “There’s not much to tell. She paid the price for having me as her father.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he says brusquely. “I didn’t tell you to curry favor. She’s not some convenient card I pull out whenever I need to ingratiate myself with you. I leave the country in a few hours, and I don’t know when I’ll be back. I’m trying to be as straight with you as I can so you don’t go to sleep every night despising yourself for missing such a monster.”
It takes me a beat to digest his words, and then another to clock the wicked gleam in his eye.
“Why, you arrogant—” But I never get to finish. All of a sudden, he’s pinning me to the wall by his mouth, his insistent tongue rimming the edges of my lips and demanding entry.
He’s all about the black magic. Somehow, I find myself flat on my back, his erection pressed up against my sex as he grinds against me, inflaming every nerve.
“What was her name?” I gasp out.
“Isabella.” His dark eyes dull with pain before he silences everything with another kiss.
“It’s beautiful.”
“Too much talking.” He rears backward, taking my panties with him, grazing my thighs with his nails in his haste. The time for conversation is over. That tiny glimmer into the window of his soul has slammed shut. His only impulse now is to lose himself in the crazy stupor we create when we fuck.
“Slow down!” I beg him, but he’s too lost in the moment.
He wrenches me into a sitting position and whips off the remains of Anna’s dress. “Put your arms around my neck.”
I do as he says, too scared by the look on his face to refuse. It’s too singular. Too remote. Somehow our connection is misfiring.
He carries me, naked, into the kitchen and sets me down on top of the breakfast bar, kicking the stool out of the way to make room for us. Stepping back, he removes his own clothes, slamming his gun down on the counter next to me.
I swear I could come just from the look in his eyes—so primal, so dominant . It’s like I’m the only person in the world, and he’d kill to have me. Manuel’s presence in my apartment has unnerved him, and he means to claim my body back for himself.
He grabs my ankles, and drags me to the edge of the counter, the thick muscles in his forearms straining as I lose my balance and topple sideways. “Slow it down!” I plead again, smacking my palms down to steady myself. “No sex-related accidents today, thank you.”
“I give you no promises,” he growls, wrapping my legs around his waist. “We’ll both be aching tomorrow. I’ll make your sweet cunt sing for me first, though. I want you soaking wet before I fuck you for the rest of the day.”
A low moan escapes my lips. He’s the only man alive who can ignite this crazy wildfire inside of me. One touch and I know I’ll be screaming out his name.
“When are you due your next shot?”
I’m rudely jolted from my Santiago stupor. “Next week… Why?”
“Don’t forget it.”
Incensed, I drop my legs from his waist and jerk backward out of his grasp, wincing as his teeth catch the tip of my nipple. “Getting knocked-up by a wanted criminal isn’t exactly high on my list of life achievements, Dante.”
Why am I so mad? I don’t want a baby with him. I’d be crazy to even consider it… But it’s like I can’t stand the thought of another woman giving him something that I won’t.
He curses and lets go of me. “I know that’s not what you want, Eve. That’s why I brought it up.”
“Well, your timing sucks.”
“So it would seem. Can I get on with fucking you now? I have a plane to catch.”
“No, you fucking can’t!” I shove him away and jump down from the counter, but he grabs my wrist and pulls me back to him. I end up bent double over my own breakfast bar, with the heat of his cock pressed tightly between my ass cheeks, my hands wrenched behind me, and his forearm across my shoulder blades, forcing my heavy breasts into the icy-cold surface.
“I’m not done with you yet,” he murmurs. “You know what your defiance does to me.”
“Get off me!” I struggle to free myself, but I’m like a fly batting away a horse. “I mean it this time, Dante.”
“Let’s see how much you mean it in a minute.” He drops his mouth to the base of my spine, with his forearm still pressing my chest into the counter.
All my resistance evaporates when I feel his tongue mark an unyielding line down through the crease of my ass. He stops close to the entrance of my sex, preferring to slide his hand up the inside of my thigh and finger fuck me, instead.
“You bastard,” I moan helplessly.
“Put your hands above your head,” he orders.
Trance-like, I do as he says, my fingertips flexing around the edge of the counter as my core tightens against his intrusion.
“Don’t come until I tell you to. Now, brace yourself.”
For what, I think hazily.
A second later, his stinging smack is ricocheting off my ass. The force of the blow jolts my hips forward. At the same time, I can feel his fingers plunging back inside me. Not letting me catch my breath, he smacks me again. And again. And again. I count four in total before I’m tipped over the precipice by that exquisite duology of pain and pleasure.
“I told you not to come,” he says harshly, as I lie there convulsing.
“I couldn’t help it! You’re a sadist for making me hold off!”
He removes his fingers, and a second later, he’s driving his cock deep inside of me.
“Fuck!” I scream.
He smacks my ass again, the bite of his touch bringing tears to my eyes. “What have I told you about cussing?”
“Screw you!” I turn my head to the side to glare at him. “ I’m not your angel anymore, Dante. Your dark is smothering everything.”
“Don’t say that,” he snarls, grinding into me. “Your light still appeases it. When we’re together like this, I can almost taste whatever good is left in me.”
“And what happens when we’re apart?” His gun is lying inches from my face, and terrible thoughts keep stealing into my mind. “How many people have you killed in the last two months?”
“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.”
“I could smell the blood on your skin at Anna’s club. That’s why you didn’t want to see me, isn’t it? You weren’t sure if your demons were satisfied. You keep shielding me from the real you, but can’t you see? My imagination is far worse than you’ll ever be.”
He stops thrusting as soon as the words leave my mouth. There’s a pause, and then I feel his forehead touch the skin beneath my shoulder blades as he leans over to cover my body with his own. He’s buried so deep inside me, there’s a dull ache intermingling with the sheer indulgence of him.
“If anyone can save me, you can, mi alma ,” he mutters.
“I can’t save a man who doesn’t want to be saved.”
He rears back, only to slam into me again. “I’m done with this conversation.”
“Not like this.” I can feel my inner muscles quivering around his cock already. “Take me back to my bedroom and make love to me.”
“We don’t make love, Eve. We fuck. Like this .”
Dark and dirty.
Satisfying that need in both of us .
“Maybe we need to relearn a few things?” I gasp out. “Maybe we only fuck because the nothingness it creates makes it easier to forget how different we really are?”
At this, he withdraws completely. The sudden absence of his body heat leaves me cold and bereft. I turn to find him standing a meter away, staring at me in all his naked, erect glory. That ominous stillness has settled over his expression again.
“Is it such a crazy theory?” I offer up, tentatively.
He doesn’t answer. Instead, I watch in mounting disbelief as he picks up his jeans and pulls his T-shirt back over his head.
“Pass me my gun.”
“Dante—”
“I asked you to pass me my fucking gun.”
“No.”
I walk up to him and wrap my arms around his neck, breathing in his frustration and anger, placing myself between the cold-hearted killer and his weapon of choice. He doesn’t move away, but he doesn’t return my embrace, either. “Make love to me.”
I feel his body shudder. “I can’t… Straight-up fucking gives me an element of control. I can’t lose that around you.”
“You won’t. I trust you.”
“You shouldn’t.” He rips my arms away, breaking the delicate chain between us. “You think your imagination takes you to dark places? Trust me, my capabilities are much worse.” He runs his thumb across the seam of my lips before cupping my jaw. He stands at least a foot taller than me. I can sense the power emanating from his body.
Intimidating me .
Enthralling me.
His eyes are so dark and unflinching. The eyes of a murderer.
“You’re right about last night, Eve. I slaughtered three men yesterday. I tortured the last one for five hours.” I try and turn my head away, but his grip is unflinching. He’s giving me no choice but to accept his truth. “Is this what you wanted to hear?” His lips peel back into a snarl. “Because I have a whole roll call of depravity and sin I can share with you.”
“Why?” I ask, softly.
“Why do I take such pleasure in hurting people? Because I fucking enjoy it! It’s the only thing that gets me as hard as you do. Men like me don’t make love, Eve. We take what we want, and then we go.”
“Have you finished taking what you want from me?”
Why do I care? How can I still want him after everything he’s told me? This is a man who thrives on killing people.
“If I don’t leave now, I’ll only end up hurting you.” He drops his hand to refasten his jeans as I grab the red check throw from the back of my couch. I quickly wrap it around my naked body.
“I may not understand what it’s like to kill and enjoy it, but I know what it feels like to be broken inside.”
“I think we may have differing opinions on what constitutes ‘broken’.” He picks up his cell from the coffee table, and I watch in silence as he taps out a message.
“You don’t have a monopoly on this, Dante.”
“Oh, I think I do.” He pulls on his boots and heads for the door.
“Stop.” His hand is already on the handle. “Please, Dante, I don’t want you to go.” He’s opening it now…
“I love you.”
The three words slip from my mouth like an afterthought, but they’re eloquence wrapped up in the simplest of idioms—connecting my heat and my desire for him so flawlessly, I find myself questioning why I never said them before.
His face creases in confusion, and that’s when it hits me. He doesn’t think he’s deserving of love. Not now. Not ever. He hurts people because that’s all he’s ever known. He’s never been shown an alternative.
I walk over to him, take him by the hand, and lead him into my bedroom. He follows willingly, meekly, but as soon as we cross the threshold, he’s pushing me up against the wall and taking back the control, wrapping my hair around his fists and pressing his body against me.
“How can you love me? How is that possible? I’ve stolen from you, kidnapped you, hurt you, showed you my true self…”
“Maybe I see more than that. Maybe, despite everything, I still think you’re worth loving.”
He stares at me before tugging away my throw, scooping me up in his arms and placing me gently on the bed. Undressing quickly, he settles between my legs.
“I wish I could be the man you see in me.”
“You will,” I say, easing some of the burden in his voice with my certainty. “Because I refuse to see any other.”
Our tongues fall into a delicious swordplay that leaves me squirming against the mattress. I run my hands across his back as he rises up on his elbows. Wrapping my legs around his waist, I open myself wide for him.
He slides in easily, nipping at the hollow of my neck, and stinging my cheek with his stubble. There’s a gentleness to his touch that I’ve never known before. He’s trying hard to give me what I asked of him.
We settle into a temperate rhythm, his downward thrusts driving so deep that it’s skin-on-skin, shifting position constantly so that his lower abdomen brushes against the tip of my clit. At the same time, I can feel his body straining as he holds himself back. His hand leaves my hair to grip the nearby pillowcase so tightly, his knuckles turn white. His groans fill the silence of my room.
“Look at me,” he gasps suddenly.
I gaze up at those dark irises with their seldom-seen flecks of gold, so evocative of this man’s soul. Like guiding lights in a sea of darkness.
“You are everything, Eve. If I thought myself capable of those three words, I’d give them back to you, I swear it.”
“It’s okay,” I whisper, tightening my grip around his neck. “Until that time, I’ll love enough for the both of us.”
He bows his mouth to mine and keeps on driving into me, making love to every part of my body with his words, his cock, and his tongue—intensifying the pleasure until neither one of us can hold back any longer.
We come together to the sound of my soft cries and his animalistic roars, my nails ripping a jagged red course down his back as he moans my name, over and over, into my hair, only shuddering to a stop when he’s emptied every last part of himself inside me.
In that moment, there are no broken rules or compromised morals. No complications or sin.
The only thing that matters is us.