6. Chapter 6
Chapter 6
Dante
T he night stretches on in endless silence as I lie awake, my thoughts a relentless torrent of images and impressions from the evening's events.
My mind keeps circling back to that heated kiss we shared on the dance floor, the memory of Evelyn's soft curves pressed against me sending a fresh surge of heat lancing through my veins. The taste of her, the breathy little gasps muffled against my mouth—it was like striking a match to a pool of gasoline, igniting a conflagration of desire so intense it damn near consumed me.
And then she pulled away, leaving me reeling and aching with unfulfilled need. Her fervor for unraveling the journal's secrets had reasserted itself with a vengeance, eclipsing everything else in that brilliant, endlessly fascinating mind of hers.
I drag a hand over my face, expelling a harsh breath into the stillness of the bedroom. She's a force of nature, utterly unfazed by the power and influence that have kept others cowering for decades.
That realization, as unsettling as it may be, is precisely what draws me to her like a moth to a flame. For too long, I've been surrounded by sycophants jockeying for position and favor through shallow flattery and false pretenses. But not Evelyn. With her, there are no parlor tricks or underhanded deceptions, only the raw authenticity of her brilliance laid bare. It's disarming. Exhilarating, even.
And if I'm being truly honest with myself—a struggle, given how accustomed I've become to maintaining rigid control over my deepest emotions—that's not even half of what renders her so endlessly captivating. No, it runs deeper than that, cutting straight to the heart of me.
There's a kinship that defies all logic or rationale, forged in the shared understanding of our pasts and the voids they've left within us both. The girl who lost her parents to tragedy's cruel whims, seeking solace and order in the immutable codes and histories of ages past. The man who lost his patriarchal lodestar, left to shoulder a crushing legacy while still reeling from grief's staggering blow. Two souls united through their respective losses, each seeking to make sense of the senseless in their own way.
What a pair we make, this unlikely duo bound by mutual devastation and the drive to decode whatever answers may lie in wait.
The creak of the door hinge slices through the weighted silence like a blade. In an instant, I'm tensed and reaching for the wicked hunting knife I keep tucked beneath my pillow, every sense razor-sharp as I slide from beneath the sheets.
My bare feet make no sound on the hardwood as I stalk toward the door, grip tightening around the hilt until my knuckles stand out in pale ridges. With a deft twist of my wrist, I fling it open, the knife arcing in a silver blur—
Only to freeze, the deadly edge hovering a hair's breadth from the intruder's throat as a familiar, enticing fragrance washes over me.
"Evelyn?" The name escapes me, more a ragged exhalation than a coherent utterance.
Those wide, whiskey-hued eyes are locked on the blade, her chest rising and falling in shallow, frantic pants that strain against the thin cotton of her sleep shirt. I drink in the disheveled tumble of her chestnut waves, the rosy flush staining her cheeks in the dim glow filtering through the windows. Christ, she's stunning like this—flustered and clad in little more than an oversized tee and a pair of tiny shorts.
Gritting my teeth, I force my gaze upward, the muscles in my forearm rigid as I maintain that immaculate control. "What are you doing?"
"I—I decoded another section," she stammers, those kissable lips trembling as she clutches a leather-bound tome to her chest like a shield. "There are coordinates, Dante. A new location we need to investigate."
Of course there are.
Lowering the blade at last, I rake her with a look. "It's three in the morning. Whatever this new lead entails, it can damn well wait until daybreak."
"You're right," she says, blinking as if just realizing the time. "Of course."
But she hesitates in the open doorway, and in that fractured heartbeat of stillness, something rears up within me.
With two strides, I close the distance between us, my free hand fisting in those glorious chestnut waves as I haul her against me. The crush of my mouth swallows her startled gasp, all restraint shattered.
She melts into me with a desperate little moan, the journal tumbling forgotten to the floor as her arms wind around my neck. I'm drowning in the taste of her, her scent surrounding me in an intoxicating haze as I back her toward the bed. The solid weight of her curves presses flush against me, every nerve ending in my body alight and crackling with a need so visceral, it's nearly painful.
With a low growl, I break the kiss just long enough to tear that flimsy cotton t-shirt over her head and send it sailing across the room. Then I'm on her again, devouring the creamy expanse of her throat as I tumble her onto the rumpled sheets.
"Dante..." My name falls in a breathy whimper from her mouth that damn near unmakes me.
With a growl, I abandon her swollen lips, trailing a scorching path down the column of her neck. I take her hard nipple between my teeth, flicking the sensitive bud with the tip of my tongue as her hips arch off the mattress, her nails raking into my back with an animalistic urgency that sends a shiver of pure lust coursing through me.
I hook her shorts down her thighs, the fabric pooling around her ankles before she kicks them off. I stand and stare down at her naked body. She's a work of art, with curves that harken back to the Renaissance ideal of beauty. Her full breasts, wide hips, and soft belly are a testament to her femininity, and I find myself captivated by every inch of her.
When she moves to cover herself with her hands, her cheeks flushing red, I pull them away, pinning them to her side, devouring her with my gaze.
"I've been wanting to do this since I first saw you,” I confess. “You have no idea how badly I need you."
She bites her lip, her cheeks still flushed, but she doesn’t struggle against my hold or squirm under my gaze. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Dante. I don’t… this isn’t…”
“You don’t have to do anything,” I tell her, lowering myself to my knees. “Let me take care of you.”
As the words leave my mouth, I'm struck by how foreign they sound. I'm Dante Romano, a feared mafia capo, and yet here I am, offering myself up to this woman as if I'm some kind of supplicant.
But even that doesn’t stop me.
I position myself between her legs, shouldering her thighs apart, and tease her with the lightest touch of my tongue against her clit. She moans, a sound that fills me with an animalistic hunger.
Her fingers thread through my hair, guiding me closer, and I comply, at once submitting to her urgency and yearning for release. She tastes like desire and sweat, a heady combination that intoxicates me. I lave at her, teasing and taunting, drawing out her pleasure until she's writhing against my face, her moans growing louder and more desperate.
I slide two fingers inside her, feeling the tight, wet heat of her core. She cries out, her hips bucking once again, and I know she's close. I slip another finger in, stretching her, filling her, and slowly begin to thrust in and out as I press my mouth hard against her, suckling at the sweet bud of her clit.
Her whole body jerks violently, her muscles tensing like a bow ready to unleash an arrow, and then she shatters. Her cries echo around the room as her body convulses, even as I continue to devour her, prolonging her orgasm and relishing in the sight and sound of her pleasure.
With a final thrust of my fingers, I pull them out of her and trail my fingers up her body, smearing her juices across her skin. I lean in to kiss her, letting her taste herself on my lips.
Eyes blazing, Evelyn's chest heaves as she lies spent beneath me, her body still trembling from the aftershocks of her climax. Her hair is in disarray, her lips swollen from our heated kisses, and Christ, she's never looked more enticing. I'm consumed by the urge to taste every inch of her, to mark her as mine and mine alone. The very idea makes me grow harder, if that were even possible.
With a low growl, I flip her over onto her stomach. She's like a goddess, sprawled before me, and I can't help but marvel at her perfection. I want to savor every inch of her, but my own need is a raging beast, clawing at me to claim what's mine.
"You're so fucking beautiful." I trail my fingers lightly down her ass, relishing the goose bumps that rise in their wake.
Crawling over her, I position myself at her entrance, her wet heat taunting me, begging me to take her. "Tell me you want me," I growl, needing to hear her say it.
"Damn it, Dante, I want you," she gasps, her hips arching back, inviting me in. “I need you.”
I groan, unable to resist her any longer. With one smooth stroke, I plunge deep inside her, her slick heat enveloping me in a vice-like grip. Her walls clench around me, her fingers clenching the sheets as she moans out my name.
"Fuck," I grunt, burying my face in the crook of her neck as I thrust into her again and again, each thrust deeper and harder than the last, "You’re driving me crazy.”
Her response is a whimpered, "Mmmm" as she rocks back against me, her body a perfect counterpoint to mine, her inner walls tightening around me with each hard thrust.
"You feel so goddamn good," I groan, my grip on her hips tightening as I pick up the pace. "You're so fucking tight, so wet."
"Dante, don't stop," she whimpers, her nails digging into the sheets. "Oh God, Dante, I'm... I'm..."
"That's it, baby, come for me," I growl, driving into her with one last powerful thrust, feeling my own release barreling toward me like a freight train. I clench my jaw, desperate to make this last, to savor every damn second of her.
Her walls clench around me, her orgasm ripping through her body as her cries fill the air. I can feel her muscles milking me, and it's my undoing. I let out a primal groan, burying my face in the crook of her neck as I spill myself inside her, every muscle tensing as my climax rocks me to the very core.
Spent, I collapse onto the bed beside her, my chest heaving as Evelyn's naked body presses against mine. Her scent permeates the air, musky and enticing, and I inhale deeply, a smug grin playing on my lips. That just may have been the best damn sex of my life, and believe me, I've had my fair share. But with her, it's different. It's more. I can't explain it, but I know it in my bones.
I'm fucked, no pun intended.
"Hmm," she purrs, nestling closer, her head tucked beneath my chin. Her silky hair tickles my bare chest.
I gaze down at Evelyn, her bare skin glowing in the moonlight filtering through the window. She's breathtaking like this—disheveled, sated, and utterly mine. A possessive surge rushes through me at the thought, one I don't bother trying to tamp down.
She must sense the weight of my stare. Her eyes flutter open, locking with mine. A faint blush stains her cheeks, but her gaze doesn't waver. If anything, there's a newfound boldness there in the aftermath of our passionate joining.
"So..." She traces an idle pattern against my chest, her touch igniting tiny sparks along my skin. "About those coordinates..."
A harsh bark of laughter escapes me before I can rein it in. Only this woman would be coherent enough to circle back around to the damn journal after what we just shared. "Insatiable, aren't you?"
"You know me." That blush deepens, but there's a coy twinkle in her eye as she props herself up on one elbow, the sheets pooling around her waist. "I can't resist a good mystery."
"Neither can I, tesoro ." With an indulgent grin, I haul her against me, relishing how she readily molds herself against my side.
This... this is uncharted territory. The easy affection, the simple pleasure of holding her close without agenda or motive. It's unfamiliar, yet I find myself craving more of it.
"But for now, we should rest," I murmur, pressing a lingering kiss to the crown of her head.
She nods, already drifting as fatigue drags her under. "Just a few hours," she mumbles.
I listen as her breathing evens out. Only when I'm certain she's truly asleep do I allow myself to relax.
This remarkable woman has well and truly undone me, laying siege to the formidable walls I've spent the better part of a decade erecting. In her presence, I'm unmoored, untethered from the certainties that have long grounded me.
And somehow, the prospect doesn't terrify me nearly as much as it should.