Chapter 14 - Alisa
His question hung in the air between us like smoke after a fire. Just how stubborn could I be?
My mind was prepared to riot, to throw a fit and point out all the ways he was more stubborn than I, but my defenses weren’t in order.
My heart hammered until it hurt, and he stood so close that I could see every little detail on that perfect face. God, he looked good, even beaten up. The worst part was that some twisted part of me found his concern touching.
“I didn’t ask you to keep me safe,” I repeated, trying to sound firm, but even I heard the shakiness in my own voice. “I don’t need you fighting my battles.”
Dante stepped even closer and pursed his lips, like he was trying to stop himself from lashing out. “You didn’t ask me? Funny, I seem to remember you signing those marriage papers pretty damn quick when I told you it was for your protection.”
Damn it. He was right. When he’d offered me safety that night after the auction, I hadn’t hesitated.
I’d grabbed onto his offer like a lifeline, though not for the reasons he believed.
I simply hadn’t wanted to bring any more trouble to Papa’s door, but I’d never questioned what it might cost Dante.
“I… I wasn’t thinking straight.” I argued weakly.
“Okay. Maybe you weren’t thinking straight then. But I don’t recall you asking for a divorce after.” His voice dropped lower. “So you can understand that from where I’m standing, you’ve been perfectly fine with me keeping you safe. You’re only denying it because things are complicated.”
“Nothing’s complicated,” I protested to maintain my point, even though I’d forgotten the whole cause of this argument. My mouth suddenly felt dry, and I tried not to let my legs tremble. His eyes… I was drowning in them.
“Bullshit.” He was so close now that I had to tilt my head up to see his face. “Everything about us has always been complicated, Alisa. You’re keeping secrets and I’m not prying, but I know trouble when I see it.”
I shook my head and took a large gulp of air, my eyes widening as he leaned a little forward.
“And you know what else is complicated?” His breath was now hot against my face. “The fact that right now, even with all the fucking bullshit that went down tonight, I still want you so fucking bad I can barely think straight.”
My breath caught. His confession hung between us, and I wanted to rage at how dare he, but the words died in my throat because they would’ve been lies. I did want him, more than he knew, but the depth of all the secrets I kept made staying angry easier than speaking the truth.
For one heartbeat, we stood frozen, neither of us moving, as though one wrong shift could change the trajectory for where this was going.
And then, I don’t know who moved.
Maybe we both did.
All I know is suddenly his mouth crashed against mine, and he tangled one hand in my hair, pulling me against him with such fierce force that I felt my body sing his praises as every muscle relaxed and heightened in sensation all in one go.
I kissed him back just as ferociously and pushed myself against him even harder. God, what was it about him that turned me into a magnet, always seeking out every inch of him?
I dug my fingers into his shoulders, wanting, needing, starving for more. Our tongues met, and when they did, we were no longer gentle or coy. We were all teeth and tongue and pent-up frustration finally unleashed.
His hands moved down my body with rough palms and wanting fingers, leaving trails of fire in their wake. He grabbed the hem of my nightdress and tore it upward, pulling away from the kiss only long enough to yank it over my head.
His eye widened when he realized I wasn’t wearing anything underneath except a bra.
“Fuck,” he growled, his hands immediately going to my ass, squeezing hard enough to make me gasp as he pulled my body tight against his, until my breasts squeezed against his chest. The way he looked down at us, at how I looked against his body, hit me right between my legs, and I felt a gush drip down my thighs.
“You always roam around like that? How come I never noticed?”
“Usually you’re too distracted by my lips,” I teased, nipping at his bottom one just to prove my point.
He groaned, “You’re killing me,” and then started kissing me again.
I reached for his shirt between kisses, desperate to start what I’d left unfinished just days ago, but dreamt of every night. He helped me, shrugging it off his shoulders. I fumbled with his belt and finally got it to unbuckle and yanked down the zipper.
He ducked his head and took one nipple between his teeth. Pleasure licked down my spine like fire on silk, and I gasped, the sound turning to a moan as my body arched toward him, desperate for more of that delicious sting.
“Dante,” I whispered, voice wrecked with need, as I pushed his pants and boxers over his hips. His cock sprang free—thick, hard, and burning against my skin—stealing the breath right out of my lungs.
He walked me back until my spine hit the wall, and then his mouth was everywhere—my neck, my breasts, my collarbone—leaving marks I knew I’d feel tomorrow.
But I didn’t care.
I wanted them.
Wanted to remember that this had been real.
His hips rolled against mine, his cock dragging over the landing to my pussy with a slick, maddening slide that made me whimper into his mouth. When his fingers dipped between us and found how wet I already was, I gasped, hips tilting helplessly into his touch.
“You’re soaked,” he murmured against my throat, sounding toe-curlingly pleased.
“Mm-hmm,” I gasped in acknowledgment, but wasn’t able to form a coherent thought because of the maddening way his finger circled my clit.
He groaned and pushed one finger inside me, then another. I clenched around him, my head falling back against the wall as he worked me crazy, finding that spot inside that made stars burst behind my eyelids.
I whimpered and pushed myself even closer to him, my body saying things I couldn’t bring myself to. He got the memo: I needed more. In one whoosh, he had me off the floor, his hands cupping my ass as I wrapped my legs around his waist.
He carried me to the mat and laid me down gently, before positioning himself between my legs. The head of his cock pushed against my entrance, and for a moment, he paused, his eyes locking with mine.
“You sure?” he asked, and even through the haze of lust, I could see he remembered what happened last time. He had always been hard on himself when it came to me. I’d simply forgotten.
“Yes,” I breathed. “God, yes.”
Slowly, he pushed inside me, stretching me in a way that burned so good I had to bite my lip to keep from screaming. It had been so long—not just since I’d been with anyone, but since I’d been with him.
“Fuck,” he groaned, his forehead dropping to rest against mine once he was fully inside me. “You feel like a cocoon, Alisa. Like I can forget the whole world when I’m in you.”
I couldn’t speak. The sensation of him inside me, stretching me, completing me—it was overwhelming. All I could do was lift my hips, urging him to move.
He began to roll his hips. His first thrust was gentle, testing, but when I moaned and dug my heels into his back, he picked up the pace. Each stroke hit deeper than the last, and I felt my body building toward something huge, something earth-shattering.
“Harder,” I begged hoarsely, my voice struck with pleasure.
He growled low in his throat, then reached down to grab one of my legs, lifting it and positioning it over his shoulder. The new angle had him hitting that perfect spot inside me with every strike, and I couldn’t hold back my screams anymore.
“That’s it,” he encouraged, his pace relentless now. “Let me hear you, Alisa. Show me what’s making you feel this good.”
My cries echoed through the gym as he pounded into me, the mat beneath us slithering from how hard we fucked. The sweat glistened off his chest, dripped down the lines. He looked like a god above me, powerful and primal, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away.
The pressure inside me built higher and higher, a coiling tension at the base of my spine that threatened to snap at any moment. Dante must have sensed how close I was because his hand moved between us, his thumb finding my clit and circling it in time with his thrusts.
“Come for me,” he commanded, his voice rough with exertion. “Come around my cock, baby.”
His words tipped me over the edge, and the orgasm tore through me like a tidal wave—starting low and deep, then crashing outward until even my fingertips tingled.
My walls clenched around him in desperate pulses, dragging him deeper, holding him there as pleasure rippled through every nerve.
My back arched off the mat, and I cried out his name, even as my vision blurred at the edges like I was unraveling from the inside out.
“Fuck, Alisa!” I felt Dante throb inside me, then sputter out as he came with a hoarse shout. I felt the heat of his release filling me, marking me from the inside out.
He just rested on me while we caught our breaths, and I felt his body against me like a soothing blanket, pressing into me most deliciously. For long moments, we just lay there, but eventually he rolled to the side, taking me with him, so I ended up draped across his chest.
His hand traced lazy patterns on my back, and I listened to his heart beneath my ear.
The silence felt charged, full of things neither of us was ready to say. I felt it. He had things to say, too, and I had all these thoughts running through my mind.
It was just sex, wasn’t it? So why did it feel like so much more? Why did it feel like homecoming?
The fact that it did terrified me.
Because if I let myself fall back into him, what would happen when it all fell apart again? I’d barely survived losing him the first time. A second time would destroy me completely.
I needed a distraction. Something to focus on that wasn’t the way my heart seemed to recognize his, even after all this time.
“We should do something about your eye,” I said, pushing myself up to look at his bruised face.
He winced as he sat up. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine,” I insisted, needing to pretend everything was okay and that my brain hadn’t just caught on fire. “It’s swollen shut! You could be risking your vision if you don’t get that inflammation down.”
I stood up, but suddenly realized how naked I felt. I blushed as I looked around for my nightdress.
Dante simply handed me his t-shirt with a lazy throw. “Here.”
I slipped it on gratefully and tried very hard not to take in a deep breath of him. Meanwhile, he pulled on his boxers and pants, then followed me out of the gym and toward the kitchen.
In the bright light of the kitchen, his injury looked even worse—purple and swollen, with a cut above his eyebrow that had crusted over with dried blood. I winced in sympathy as I grabbed an ice pack from the freezer and wrapped it in a kitchen towel.
“Sit,” I ordered, pointing to one of the barstools.
Surprisingly, he obeyed without arguing. I stood between his legs and gently pressed the ice pack to his eye. He hissed at the contact but didn’t pull away.
“Hold this,” I instructed, guiding his hand to the ice pack. Then I gathered an antiseptic, cotton balls, and bandages from the first-aid kit under the sink.
As I cleaned the cut above his eye, I was aware of his gaze on me. With every passing second, my stomach fluttered. Why did treating him feel so much more intimate than it was?
“You’re quite the expert, huh?” he commented.
“It’s not hard icing an eye.” I levelled a glare at him that screamed ‘don’t patronize me’.
He laughed, and I smiled, and we fell back into a comfortable silence.
But after a while, that weight came back. The one where none of us were saying what we truly wanted to. I was nearly done when I felt like some things needed to be acknowledged.
“Dante,” I whispered, and his gaze flickered to mine. I gently put a Band-Aid on the cut above his eye, buying time.
He kept watching, and I sighed as I pulled back. “Thank you… for watching over me. I know you don’t have to.”
He gave me a half-smile, but it looked pained.
It got the bells ringing in my head, but I didn’t ask. Sometimes, asking meant trouble.
I cleared up and was about to turn away to put back the things when I felt his hand on my wrist. “Alisa, what happened that day at the courthouse? When I found you outside… I’ve never seen you like that.”
I swallowed hard, pulling my wrist free. “It doesn’t matter.”
“I can’t protect you if I don’t have the whole picture,” he said quietly. “Something happened there, and I think I deserve to know what it was, especially if it’s connected to the men who attacked us today.”
I froze. He was right. If the attack on his operations was connected to the auction, to my father’s schemes, then he did deserve to know. Besides, keeping this secret was eating me alive from the inside out.
“I have to tell you something,” I started, then had to stop and take a deep breath.
Dante went perfectly still. “What?”
“My father was the one who arranged for me to be taken.”
Dante paled.
I set down the first aid kit and stepped back, needing space for this conversation.
“When I went to his office that day, I overheard him talking to the men who kidnapped me. He was angry with them because they put me on that auction block instead of delivering me directly to… to whoever he’d promised me to. ”
Dante’s expression darkened with each word. “He sold you.”
I nodded, and the tears burned behind my eyes. “He called me ‘leverage.’ Said he’d promised me to some family as payment, and now he’s furious because I’m with you instead.”
Dante stood up and clenched his fists beside him. “Son of a bitch.”
“That’s not all,” I continued, the words spilling out now that I’d started. “I think some Bratva group is blackmailing him. He seemed scared, talking about how they wouldn’t be happy about me being your wife. He said they’d be lucky if Caspian just killed them for touching your wife.”
A flash of guilt crossed Dante’s face, but I think I must have imagined it because the next thing I knew, he was rushing to me in panic and he gripped my arms with both his hands and peered into my eyes. “Did he mention which family he’d promised you to?”
I shook my head. “No, just that they were ‘getting impatient.’ And that I was the only thing that would satisfy their demand.”
“Jesus, Alisa.” He stepped toward me, his hands coming up to cup my face. “I meant it when I said I won’t let anything happen to you. Now, don’t you worry about a thing, okay?”