Chapter 22 Dillan
DILLAN
I could have every single inch of your body pressed tightly to mine, and I’d still ask you to hold me closer . . . keep me safer . . . stay with me tonight.
—Dillan’s Secret Thoughts
Iwalk up to Rome and wrap my arms around his waist as I press my cheek against his chest. “Thank you.”
“Dillan . . .” He cups the back of my head with his hand and tips my face up to his. “You don’t have to thank me for defending you.” His fierce voice is one step away from the feral bite of a wounded animal. “I will always defend you.”
“Why?” I ask, my own voice betraying the basket case of emotion I’ve become. “Why would you do that after the way I’ve treated you?”
“Because, stellina, we’ve both made mistakes.
We’ve both come at this thing between us shrouded in pain and anger.
But somehow, we’re still here. We still have a chance.
And I’m not giving that up. Not giving up on us.
Not again.” His other hand lifts to my face, gently sliding my hair behind my ear.
“I let you push me away once. I chose the easy path. And I was wrong. I won’t do it again.
You can try to push, but I’m not going anywhere this time. ”
Oh, wow.
“You’re worth it, Dillan. We’re worth it.
I see you. I will never stop looking for you and at you.
I’ll never stop fighting for you. But you’ve got to let me in.
You’ve got to forgive me for what I said to Lucky and trust that I said it because I wasn’t ready to talk about you, not because you didn’t matter.
Forgive me for forcing you into this relationship.
For blackmailing you. I’m sorry I did it.
I’m sorry I took away your choices. But I’m not fucking sorry about where it brought us .
. . because you just walked into my arms like you finally fucking realized it’s where you belong. ”
Those words heal the small, shattered pieces of my soul I let break so damn long ago.
Long before that night with Rome.
Pieces I thought I’d never mend.
But I should have known this man would be strong enough to do it for me when I couldn’t.
Only him.
“I’m sorry I didn’t ask you about the phone call that morning with Lucky.
I could have saved us both if I had just asked instead of shutting down.
” Frustration and embarrassment flood my system as I force myself to take accountability for the actions of a scared woman.
“It’s what I do, Rome. It’s what I’ve done for years, and it’s probably what I’ll always do,” I admit, terrified I’m too difficult to be worth this man’s time.
That I’ll push him away, and he’ll realize how much easier life would be without me in it.
Rome flexes his jaw as his eyes search mine.
For what—I have no clue.
The truth in my words?
The fear in my heart?
He lifts me from my feet, and my arms wind around him as he dips his mouth to my neck and drags his lips over my racing pulse. “I don’t need easy, Dillan. Easy is boring. And you and me . . . we’ll never be boring.”
“What if I’m broken?” I whisper, giving terrifying life to my darkest fear.
“You are not broken. You are magnificent.” One hand slides to cup my ass as his fathomless blue eyes devour mine, begging me to let him into every broken corner. “Smart, and kind, and brilliant, and beautiful. There is only one Dillan Ryan, and there’s only one thing I need you to be . . . “
He lifts his head, and my fingers curl into the hair at the nape of his neck. My heart races, and my breath comes in short pants as this thing between us threatens to finally combust. “What?”
“Mine,” he growls, and his mouth ghosts over mine as I lean in, taking more.
Needing everything.
Rome makes me want to be reckless in a way I’ve never been.
Fearless.
Wild.
His.
I chase his lips, wanting more. Needing to feel.
Him. Me. Us. Everything. And as Rome finally gives in, it truly is everything.
Brutal and vicious. Teeth and tongues, reckless and careless and fucking perfect.
His hand on my ass squeezes to the point of pain.
His hand in my hair tugs as he walks us to the table behind him and sits my ass on the edge.
I gasp, and he swallows.
The push and pull, everything I never knew it could be and so much more.
Rome kisses along the column of my throat.
Along my jaw.
Licking and sucking until his lips are back, hovering above mine, and I’m tilting on the edge of sanity and reason. Needy and impatient with the want I have for him right this very second.
“Tell me this time is different, Dillan. Tell me you feel this. Tell me you’re mine,” he demands between each greedy kiss. “Tell me this is our chance to get this right.”
“I’m yours,” I answer, no doubt lingering in my mind for the first time ever. “Yours . . .” I repeat. “And you—”
“Have been yours for fucking years, love.”
Oh. My. God.
“If you only fucking knew all the times I’ve watched you. Wanted you. Fucking fantasized about having you in my bed. In my life. By my fucking side, where you were always supposed to be.”
I stare at this beautiful man in front of me in shock and awe. My pulse pounds in my ears, my blood thrumming under my skin. “You can’t mean that.”
“Any control I’ve had around you has been an illusion.
For fucking years, you’re all I’ve wanted.
Hear me when I say years, Dillan. Why do you think I never left you alone?
Even when I knew I should. Even when I knew you wanted me to.
All the teasing. All the taunting. All the chasing .
. .” His hands slip under my hoodie—well really, his hoodie, but he’s not getting it back—and lifts it over my head, leaving me bared to him.
My hair falls over my shoulders, kissing the middle of my back.
“Fuck, baby. You look good with my name on your back, but you look so pretty without it.”
“Yes,” I plea, and his rough palms skim up my ribs and stop just beneath my breasts. Teasing me with his words and his touch, and I arch into him, wanting both—more—everything.
“This is it, Dillan. There’s no going back from here.”
My heart thuds in my chest, frantic for his touch.
“No going back,” I agree.
“You have a problem, you have a fear, or you have a fucking splinter, you come to me, principessa.” God, for the first time, that name means everything as his hands make another pass up my ribs, brushing the underside of my breasts this time.
And I swear I feel him everywhere. Need pulses, and want pounds. “You and me.”
“You and me.” God yes, I agree, wanting that—us—on a cellular level as I drag his mouth down to mine. “Now make me yours.”
His hands grip my hips as his tongue traces the line of my throat, licking and sucking that sweet spot where my neck meets my shoulder, dancing over my racing pulse. I squirm and spread my legs wider, cradling him between them.
Rome’s hands slide to my bare thighs, barely ghosting beneath the hem of my yoga shorts, and I swear my blood turns to molten lava as he pulls me closer.
I tug at the hem of his worn tee, wanting it off. Needing to feel his skin against mine. And this absolutely incredible man reaches behind his head with one hand and yanks it off, giving me the most spectacular view.
Good God, he’s perfection.
Stacked muscles ripple under corded skin as the tips of my fingers trace the lines of his broad chest. “The Greek gods and all the constellations in the sky have nothing on you, Titan,” I tease, smiling up at him, so unbelievably turned-on, I’m pretty sure I could come right here, right now, just from this view.
His mouth takes mine once, twice. Then he pulls back, and his eyes soften. “You sure you’re not going to change your mind?”
I skim my fingertips along the broad planes of his back and tip my head back, remembering the boy I recognized all those years ago again. The one faking life the same way I was. Two broken souls.
Rome may put on a cocky front for the world, but he needs the reassurance as much as I do.
“About you?” I ask, pulling him closer. “Never.”
The last bit of tension in his shoulders leaves him, and he drops his forehead to mine. “That’s a big word, principessa.”
“I’m an author, Beneventi. Fists might be your weapon of choice, but words are mine.”
“Fuck, Dillan.” His gaze locks with mine. “Do you have any idea how much I need you? More than I should. More than anything or anyone I’ve ever wanted.”
“You have me, Rome.” I unbuckle his belt and tug it free from his jeans.
“Dillan . . .” He tugs my shorts down my legs and drags a finger over the lace of my thong, his heated gaze growing impossibly heavy. His hands grip my hips, squeezing. Fingers run under the strings sitting high on my hips before quickly snapping them and ripping my thong free from my body.
Shit. That’s hot.
“So fucking pretty.”
Rome’s mouth hovers over mine, his muscles strung tight, a battle waging behind his eyes until he finally lets go, decision made, and pulls me against him. His tongue presses into my mouth, and my body arches against his. He tastes like peppermint and need, and I swear I’ll never get enough.
Not when he’s like this.
Not now that he’s mine.
His hand slips between my thighs, and with the first delicious stroke of my sex, his groan turns fierce and feral. “Fuck . . . Dillan.”
My name on his lips sounds so delicious, I can taste it, and I ache for more.
His tongue tangles with mine.
Fighting for a dominance I’m more than happy to submit to.
I wrap my leg around his waist and rock my hips against his hand, searching for more. Searching for relief. For release. For a closure and a beginning.
“Rome,” I whimper, so damn needy. My fingernails bite into the strong muscle above his shoulders while desire beats in my ears like the cadence of a marching band. “I need . . .”
“I know what you need,” he vows against my mouth, rough and ragged. Sheer perfection. His fingers slide and tease, circling my pulsing clit. “But I’ve got to get you ready to take me.”