Chapter Nineteen
Hazel
That afternoon and evening went by in a bit of a blur.
We drifted around the house as Dante told me about his plans, asked for my opinions on paint swatches, different couches, and lighting.
Not that he needed my help. The finished parts of his house were breathtaking.
I couldn’t design anything more homey if I tried.
After that, I kept Dante company as he moved around the kitchen, making dinner. As a woman who’d never been cooked for before (unless reheated tacos counted—and they didn’t), you could say I was fascinated.
And, yes, turned on. Almost obnoxiously so. Who would have thought a man who knew how to bread chicken breasts and make al dente pasta would be so appealing?
When he dipped a finger into the sauce only to lick it off the tip of his finger, I nearly combusted.
Add on the fact that the food was not just edible, but some of the best I’d ever eaten, and, yeah, you could say I was just barely holding myself back from climbing on his lap when he’d gently unwrapped my hands, checked their progress, and declared that I could take the long bath I’d been dreaming of, so long as I was careful about my palms.
If I were a stronger person, I would have insisted on helping with the dishes first.
As it was, I barely trusted myself to climb the steps and shut myself behind a locked door.
I spent the whole bath (complete with three water changes to keep it warm) trying to rationalize past my desire.
The problem was that I could hear Dante moving around the house. And the water kept teasing across my already sensitive skin.
I drained the tub and climbed out with a sigh, deciding I would just have to suffer through my feelings, since there was no getting rid of them.
When I came out of the bathroom wearing one of Dante’s shirts instead of the ones Sofia bought for me, I saw Dante lingering in the hallway.
“You okay?”
“Just wanted to dip in to get my stuff from the shower.”
“What stuff?”
“Soap, shampoo, that kind of thing.”
“Why do you need it?”
“So I can shower in the guest room.”
“What? No. I’m not putting you out of your own shower. Go ahead,” I said, waving toward the bathroom as I made my way to the bed.
Should I have excused myself, given him privacy? Absolutely. But, yeah, I was not going to do that.
“You sure?”
“Of course.” I made a show of spreading my new blanket on the bed, feigning a casualness I didn’t feel in the least.
With that, Dante moved into the bathroom, closing the door with a quiet click.
What I should have done then was turn on the TV, give him the illusion of privacy.
I didn’t do that either, though.
I took my aching desire to bed with me, turned on the pillow, and listened as the water turned down, then as it got interrupted by Dante’s body, just to slap down on the floor once it glided down each toned muscle.
Then, yeah, it all devolved from there.
Suddenly, I was seeing myself in that shower with him, running my hands over every firm inch of him, pressing my naked body to his, feeling his hands roaming over me like he was just as greedy as I was.
I didn’t need any help imagining his lips on mine or the feel of his hands on my skin, his fingers inside me.
I was so caught up in my fantasy that I let out a surprised yelp when the door suddenly opened.
Then there he was.
In all of his glory.
With nothing but a towel slung around his waist. A towel, mind you, that he was trying to hold together at his hip.
But he was too big and the towel was way too small.
I saw a healthy chunk of thigh that had me wanting to walk over to him, drop down to my knees, and go underneath the terrycloth material to take him in my mouth.
“I, uh, forgot clothes,” he admitted when my eyes reluctantly made their way back up to his handsome face.
“Okay.” My mouth was sandpaper dry. Other parts of me, though…
God.
What was wrong with me?
I was like an animal in heat.
He wasn’t the first attractive man I’d seen half-naked. I’d never imagined tracing my tongue down any of their Adonis belts.
“I won’t look,” I promised him, slapping my hand over my eyes as he made his way to the closet.
I tried to promise myself the same thing.
But my fingers split ever so slightly just as he dropped the towel. And I got one split second to marvel at his high, firm ass before I squeezed my eyes shut, cursing myself for being so weak.
“I’m decent.”
I dropped my hand to find him standing there looking anything but decent in a pair of thin light gray sleep pants slung impossibly low, leaving very little to the imagination.
I mean, I could see a full outline.
He saved me from letting out a damn animalistic moan by turning back to his closet and coming back with a blanket and sheet.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting some bedding for the couch.”
“The couch?”
“No other beds in the bedrooms,” he reminded me.
Right.
While Dante’s couch was luxurious for, you know, lounging about, it was not meant for a man his size to sleep on.
“You can’t fit on the couch.”
“I’ll take that bet,” he said, but I could tell from his tone that he agreed.
“I’ll sleep on the couch,” I volunteered, hopping up.
“Absolutely not.”
“Oh, don’t make this a ‘you’re the guest’ thing. We both know I’d fit much better on the couch than you would.”
“It’s partly a ‘you’re a guest’ thing,” he agreed.
“And partly a ‘my mom would kill me’ thing,” I added.
“That too. But that’s only a small part.”
“What’s the bigger part?”
“It will be a cold day in hell that a woman under my protection sleeps a floor below me while I’m safe in my bed.”
Oh.
Well.
That was unexpectedly hot.
Like, you know, everything about Dante Grassi.
I’d never really felt like I needed to be under a man’s protection before. Maybe part of that was because I’d literally been in the situation where a mugger approached me and my boyfriend on the street and he literally turned and ran away without me, leaving me to deal with the bad guy myself.
Now that I had a protective man standing right in front of me acting like it was his sworn duty to make sure no harm ever came to me, though, I finally understood the appeal.
“Sleep here.” I genuinely just meant sleep—I think—but it came out a lot more husky than I’d intended. “We can share the bed,” I added. “It’s big enough for a giant. Which, you know, you kind of are.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
He genuinely looked like he was having some sort of battle with himself. His eyes were tight, his jaw tense enough for a muscle to be ticking.
Whatever he was struggling with, though, he chose not to share with me.
“You’re sure?” he asked with the gravity one might use when asking if someone was sure about cutting their own hair after a bad breakup.
It was just a bed!
We were grown adults.
It was no big deal.
Or maybe that was me trying to convince myself of that fact. While being fully aware that desire was still pinging off every nerve ending.
“Of course,” I said, gesturing toward the empty side of the bed.
It still took him a second to move, like he was still fighting himself.
In the end, though, he gave in, coming over to the other side of the bed, sliding under the covers, then exhaling a slow, deep breath.
Trying to distract myself, I reached for the remote and pretended that finding a show to fall asleep to was of the utmost importance.
When I finally settled on one, I turned off the light, then acted as if my focus was on the show. When I was painfully aware of every shift he made, his steady, even breath, the heat of his body.
I didn’t know exactly how long I lay there awake, staring at the TV as the sitcom went from one episode to the next, but it felt like it took forever for my body to calm down enough to drift off to sleep.
Only to wake up not long after, toasty warm, my head and leg draped over my body pillow.
Only, no.
My body pillow was soft.
The thing I was sprawled all over was hard.
And, you know, last I checked, my body pillow didn’t breathe.
Shit.
Of course.
Of course I would climb him like a tree in my sleep, chasing his warmth like some kind of damn reptile.
Okay.
Alright.
I just had to slowly inch my way off of him, crawl back to my side of the bed, and act like nothing happened.
Beneath me, Dante’s breath was slow and steady. He clearly hadn’t noticed me climbing on top of him.
I sucked in a slow, deep breath then started to ease my weight up.
A strong arm wrapped tightly around me.
“Where do you think you’re going?”