Chapter 46
46
Layne
I roll over, and it’s the shock of being alone that has me sprinting out of bed. Or it might be the fear of actually having a heart attack making me run blindly.
My thoughts loop around to how they told me not to expect them for hours, followed by the nasty voice in my head focusing on how I should’ve expected them by now. And I know I’d been fast asleep, but I was still aware and waiting.
Racing from Valentine’s room and straight to Dante’s, I whimper at seeing his room empty too. Even his bed hasn’t been slept in.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” I say to myself, rubbing my knuckles over my chest, trying to ease the pain. My anxiety grows stronger. I’m torn between standing here and going into cardiac arrest or dragging my feet to Matteo’s room and doing it there.
I feel like a brainless zombie, fueled by nothing but absolute terror as I stumble toward Matteo’s room. Fumbling with the handle, I feel like I’m about to vomit and die at the same time.
The room is dark, like bottomless black, and I have to walk into the darkness before I can actually see Matteo in his bed.
Clutching a hand over my mouth to stop any noise, I have to touch him, to make sure he’s real. My brain is slow, my fears racing. Once I have run my hand over his shoulder a few times, I retreat as quietly as possible before running back to Valentine’s bathroom. The last few steps feel like my feet get stuck in drying cement as the sheer relief at seeing Matteo in his bed has me dry retching in the toilet.
And even though I saw Matteo, my head is a mess, caught on why I woke up alone when, clearly, they’re home.
Trying to calm down isn’t easy, the fact that they’re okay refusing to sink in.
I’m hyperventilating, my stomach is still sitting in the back of my throat, and my ears are ringing. I crawl to the shower and try shock therapy for my anxiety. My legs give out when the cold water rains down over me, and I collapse against the weight of the world.
My reaction is completely irrational and over the top, especially after seeing Matteo, but I’m so off kilter it isn’t funny.
“Baby, what the fuck are you doing?” Dante appears in front of me.
“Where were you? Jesus, Dante, no one was here!” I scream so loud, I hurt my own ears.
He scoops me up off the shower floor and into his arms, twisting around to reach the faucet so the shower starts warming up.
“Layne, look at me,” Dante commands. His dominance cuts through my panic, and my eyes jump to him. He uses his designation to make it impossible for me to look away from him. “We all came to see you when we got home. We said we would. Valentine and I crashed next to you for a while, but then he sleepwalked to your bedroom. I slept beside him because he’s exhausted, and when he’s that tired, he gets weird when he wakes up. Matty went to his room because he’s exhausted, too, but mostly everyone went their separate ways because you were snoring like a damn steam train.”
He twists me around so I’m straddling his lap, not letting me hide any of my mood from him.
“I promise we came in and tried to wake you up. When we go back in there, you might notice the flowers beside your bed and the cupcake Valentine drove to Belmondo to get you. Or it might be Matty’s note he wrote, telling you to come suck his cock when you wake up. When I woke up about thirty minutes ago, I was kissing your face until things in my head got pretty heated. I started thinking I’d just fuck your ass until you woke up, but then I was feeling guilty about doing that on your special day when you clearly needed sleep. I went up to the gym, tried to workout, but ended up fucking my fist and coming so hard, I had to get the mop and bucket. But Matty, Val, and I were here with you.”
He talks and runs his hands over my face and through my hair. I’m still caught up in my head, thinking I’d never see them again. I need the mental grounding of the touches he provides.
“Maybe leave a note on my forehead next time?” I suggest quietly.
He smiles, one of his big, blazing smiles. “Or maybe I should have just slid into your ass and fucked you in your dreams.”
“Yeah maybe.” I close my eyes, tipping my head back, and he brushes clumps of wet hair from my face. “Shit, Dante, I totally imagined the worst.”
“Everything went off without a hitch. We weren’t even injured. Although, Valentine got pretty fucked off at one point.”
I open my eyes in question.
“Okay, maybe Matty and I were winding him up a bit, but it’s good for him to remember he’s about to be the Boss of the Cosa Nostra.”
As I snuggle under his chin, he tells me more about what happened.
“It really did go as we planned,” he says, leaning us both back against the shower wall. “We got back here probably an hour or so after we left, but we went down to the basement after checking the cameras. You were fine. But, I mean, I was doing that every ten minutes as it was.”
“There are cameras in Valentine's room?”
“Cameras everywhere, Layne.”
I hum, reaching up to lick a stream of water tracing down his throat right over his scent gland. Dante’s scent adds a hint of Amaretto to the water as I swallow him down, feeling better again.
“While we dealt with Diego and Rosa, we watched Vitale’s mistress’s house burn to the ground. Which was pretty entertaining.”
“Hmm, glad I didn’t know about that part. You know Rocco burned my house down?”
“Yeah. Which is where I got the idea.” Dante laughs, and it vibrates through his chest. “Whereas you, my darling wife, survived, the people in my fire did not. Truth is, though, they were dead before I lit the match.”
“Good. And everything went well with Diego and Rosa?”
“So well. If today was next week, I would have taken you down to see our evil and torturous ways.” He pulls me away so I can see the nefarious glee in his sky-blue eyes.
Dante is being Dante. And that helps me more.
“I’m good now.” I stand up. “Can I make you breakfast?”
“Of course you can. Otherwise, I can make you breakfast,” he promises as he climbs to his feet.
“Together?” I suggest.
“It’s the way life will be for us, so it makes sense.”
I go to climb out, and Dante grabs me, hauling me back under the shower spray.
“Since it’s not raining outside, but rain on your wedding day is incredibly auspicious, come here, wife.”
He wraps his hands around my face, his eyes full of glittering promises and endless devotion. Dante dips down and kisses me softly. So gently, my heart breaks, which hurts as much as the heart attack I thought I was having before when I couldn’t find them. But Dante’s kiss breaks my heart so beautifully, or maybe it’s how he keeps putting me back together that makes my chest ache so much.
“I wish you got to meet Nonna,” he says, talking over my lips before he presses his mouth back to mine, his tongue teasing me until he growls and kisses me hard.
He doesn’t stop for what feels like forever, and he gets pretty fucking filthy in his sweet kisses. We only break apart when the water turns cold. But he did that too.
“Dante!”
“You weren’t going to let me get out without me filling your body, which breaks all the good luck the rain on your wedding day brings. Just admit it.” He winks as he turns the shower off.
“We’re already married.”
“Don’t worry about the details.” He rolls his eyes. “Today, everyone is seeing us as married, so it’s the same. Right?”
“In your world.”
“Smart wife, you are.” He reaches past me and grabs us both a towel. Before he uses his, he strips out of his workout gear, and instead of teasing me, he dries off in record time and saunters out of Valentine’s room with the towel tied around his waist, whistling the Bridal March.
I shake my head, trying to keep up with him. Except, I love the way he lives and the chaos he brings.
As Dante promised, I find Valentine in my bed. He’s asleep on his stomach, my pillow in his arms.
He looks so peaceful, and after Dante told me how tired he was, I try not to wake him when I sneak in to get some clothes. I’m about to leave when I look back. He’s so fucking beautiful, I have to.
But he’s awake, watching me. The blue of his eyes is so vibrant. They’re also full of what looks like love.
“Hey,” I mumble softly as I walk toward him, my plan of leaving him to rest flying out the window.
Valentine stretches his hand out for me to touch. “I didn’t wake you last night, did I? You looked exhausted when we came in and didn’t even stir when I pulled you onto my pillow and into my arms.”
“Yeah, apparently I was sleeping like the dead. I had a mini heart attack because you weren’t there when I woke up, but I also failed to see all the signs you had been. Thank you for my flowers and my snack. Are you okay?”
A sleepy-eyed Valentine is what fantasies are made of. Every part of him is sweet. Hard but sweet. He goes to roll over, and I nearly give in to the arousal slowly building, but the traditions Dante shared have me pressing my hand down on Valentine to stop his rolling over. It’s safer. Easier to deny myself this way. I think.
I give in to some of my temptation and climb onto Valentine’s back to sit on the sway of it. I sink down against his warm body and bury my face in the crook of his neck to soak in his scent.
“God, I needed this,” he mumbles, twisting one of his arms around to give me an awkward hug. “I was having the worst dreams ever last night. I kept dreaming I was walking into my room and you weren’t there. Then I couldn’t find you anywhere.”
I drop my head, trying to get somehow closer. “I think we may have shared dreams.”
“I sleepwalk when I’m tired and stressed. There’s been a couple of times I have woken up ready for a fight. Subconsciously, I think I was worried I would hurt you, but I hope you know I’d never actually hurt you. Certainly not intentionally.”
“Val,” I whine against his throat. “I know that with my whole heart.”
“I figured if I couldn’t sleep next to you, I’d just sleep in your bed, so I’m still sleeping next to you, in a sense.”
“Makes sense. But next time, don’t go.”
“I'm not sure I could live with myself if I did something to hurt you, even if I wasn’t aware of it.”
“You won’t.”
“Layne, I’m not going to test your confidence in me. Some nights, you’ll wake up alone, but I’m always with you.”
“And I’m always with you.”
He bucks his hips up before he starts grinding into the mattress. He makes deep, soft groans, letting me know.
“Now I want to be inside my cunt, my wife. Let me roll over, so you can ride my cock.”
I groan and drop my head on his shoulder. “Your brother got to me first.”
“Asshole,” he grumbles.
“No, he was telling me rain on your wedding day is good luck, and us having sex is bad luck. We’re all on a ban, apparently.”
“Asshole for cockblocking me, but sentimental asshole because he’s not wrong. I wish you could have met Nonna.”
“Me too. But I love the way she lives in your memories.”
He nods and takes a deep breath. In it, I can hear how stressed he is.
“Let me help with your tension while you fill me in on what you did to Diego.” I sit up and start running my fingers up his spine, keeping my touch super soft, like feathers.
Valentine goes still, his eyes close, and the stress on his face recedes with each pass I make up and down his muscles. When I target areas that make him grunt under his breath, I add more pressure to my massage.
Climbing off, I go into my bathroom to get some body lotion. I swoop down to kiss his closed eyelids before climbing back on him again.
With the lotion, I stop being gentle and start to dig deeper into his tight muscles, stretching them out before moving on to the next sore spot. The noises Valentine makes as I dig my thumbs into his muscles are downright pornographic. I love them. And I love how he lets me spoil him.