Chapter 17
Nick
There was still lots of Evelyn’s casserole left over from the night before, so there was no reason to cook.
Dinner passed in silence for the most part.
But it was a comfortable silence, not the tension-filled quiet like it had been before.
It was almost like a veil had lifted between Dante and I.
Honesty had paved the way for comfort. All it took was another point of view to show me the way.
But there was a new tension in the air, a sort of hunger that I could taste. There was a magnetism between us, invisible but always at work. And I knew, deep down in my gut, that I wouldn’t be able to resist it forever. In fact, with every passing moment, I felt myself being drawn closer to him.
After we finished eating, I helped Dante to his feet. His ribs were healing well, but he still moved carefully, wincing when he twisted wrong. I found myself standing closer than necessary, my hand lingering on his arm longer than it needed to.
“You okay?” I asked, my voice coming out rougher than I’d intended.
“Yeah.” His dark eyes met mine, and I saw that same hunger reflected there. “Better than okay, actually.”
I should’ve stepped back. Should’ve put some distance between us. But instead, I found my hand sliding from his arm to his waist, fingers splaying against his hip.
“Nick,” he breathed, and the way he said my name sent heat pooling low in my belly.
“We should probably get to bed,” I said, but I wasn’t moving away. If anything, I was leaning closer. “Another early day tomorrow.”
“Probably.” His hand came up to rest on my chest, right over my hammering heart. “Lead the way.”
Reluctantly, I headed for the bedroom, Dante trailing behind me.
I made sure he had a glass of water and his medication on the bedside table before excusing myself for a quick shower.
I didn’t want to crawl into bed still covered in sweat and dirt from a long days work.
However, I didn’t spend a lot of time under the hot spray.
To be honest, I was too eager to get back to Dante.
I walked out in just my towel, water still dripping from my hair. Dante’s eyes were on me again, his gaze raking over my body as he took me in. I couldn’t deny that it thrilled me. My face and chest flushed with heat every time I caught him staring. And my cock was far from soft.
I dried off quickly, pulling on a pair of clean boxer briefs as quickly as I could. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears. This was it. Whatever was happening between us, we were crossing another line tonight. I could feel it.
When I turned around, Dante was already in bed, shirtless, the white bandage around his ribs stark against his tanned skin. He’d propped himself up against the pillows, and his eyes tracked my every movement as I crossed the room from the closet.
“You know,” he said, his voice low, “you don’t have to wear those if you don’t want to.”
I paused at the edge of the bed, my hand going to the waistband of my boxers. “What?”
“I always sleep naked,” he continued, and I could see the heat in his eyes intensifying while he tried to play it cool. “It’s more comfortable. But I’ve been wearing clothes because I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
My mouth went dry. The image of Dante naked beside me every night, his body warm and bare under the sheets, sent a rush of desire through me so intense it almost made me dizzy.
“I...” I swallowed hard. “I usually sleep naked too, actually. Before all this.”
“Yeah?” His lips curved into a slow smile. “Then why don’t you?”
It was a challenge. An invitation. And I found myself wanting to accept it more than I’d wanted anything in a long time.
“Okay,” I heard myself say. “If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.” He shifted slightly, wincing as the movement pulled at his ribs. “Very sure.”
I hooked my thumbs in the waistband of my boxers, my heart racing. This felt different from that night when I’d touched him, when we’d gotten each other off in the dark. This felt deliberate. Intentional. Like we were both acknowledging what we wanted instead of pretending it was an accident.
I pushed the fabric down and stepped out of it, standing there completely bare in the lamplight. Dante’s eyes roamed over me, taking in every inch, and I felt my cock start to harden once more under his gaze.
“Fuck,” he breathed. “You’re beautiful.”
No one had ever called me that before Dante. Handsome, maybe. Strong. But beautiful? That was new. And the way he said it, like it was a truth he couldn’t keep inside anymore, made my heart skip a beat.
I climbed into bed beside him, suddenly hyperaware of every point where our skin might touch. The sheets were cool against my heated skin, and I could smell his cologne. It drove me crazy.
“Come here,” he said softly, lifting his arm in invitation.
I hesitated for only a second before I moved closer, letting him pull me against his side. His skin was warm, and I could feel the steady beat of his heart under my palm where it rested on his chest.
“Is this okay?” he asked, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my shoulder.
“Yeah.” My voice cracked as I spoke. “This is okay.”
We lay there for a moment, just breathing together, adjusting to the intimacy of it. Then I felt his hand slide lower, down my arm, across my ribs, coming to rest on my hip. His touch was gentle but possessive, like he was claiming me.
“Nick,” he murmured, and I tilted my head up to look at him.
The hunger in his eyes had deepened into something darker, more primal. I could see his chest rising and falling faster now, could feel the evidence of his arousal pressing against my thigh.
“Yeah?”
“Can I kiss you?”
Instead of answering, I closed the distance between us, capturing his mouth with mine.
He made a sound low in his throat, and his hand tightened on my hip, pulling me closer.
The kiss started slow but quickly deepened, his tongue sliding against mine as we both gave in to the need that had been building between us all day.
I was careful of his ribs as I shifted, throwing my leg over his thigh, pressing our bodies together. The feeling of skin on skin, with nothing between us, was intoxicating. I could feel every inch of his thick cock, hard and hot against me.
His hand slid from my hip to my ass, squeezing, and I ground against him, both of us groaning at the friction. This was different from that desperate fumbling in the dark. This was deliberate, controlled, both of us learning each other’s bodies.
“God, you feel good,” he gasped against my mouth, his hips rolling up to meet mine.
I kissed along his jaw, down his neck, tasting salt and skin. His hands were everywhere now, mapping my body like he was trying to memorize every curve and plane. When his fingers wrapped around my cock, I nearly came on the spot.
“Dante,” I breathed, my hips bucking into his grip.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured, his thumb swiping over the head of my cock, spreading the pre-cum that had gathered there. “Just let go.”
But I didn’t want to let go. Not yet. I wanted this to last, wanted to draw it out until we were both desperate and aching. I reached down between us, wrapping my hand around him, and the sound he made was pure sin.
We found a rhythm together, our hands moving in tandem, our mouths meeting in messy, desperate kisses. The room filled with the sounds of our breathing, the slick slide of skin on skin, the quiet gasps and moans we couldn’t hold back.
“I want more,” Dante said suddenly, his voice strained. “I want... fuck, I want to feel you.”
My brain struggled to process what he was asking through the haze of pleasure. “What do you mean?”
His eyes met mine, dark and intense. “I want you to fuck me, Nick.”
The words hit me like a physical blow, stealing the breath from my lungs. I froze, my hand still wrapped around his cock, my brain struggling to process what he’d just said.
“You... what?”
“I want you inside me.” His voice was rough, desperate, and his hips rolled up into my grip. “Please, Nick. I need—I need to feel you.”
My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might burst out of my chest. I’d never done this before. Never even thought about it with another man. But the idea of being inside him, of claiming him in that way, sent a jolt of pure want through me so intense it made my vision blur.
“I don’t... I’ve never...” I couldn’t seem to form a complete sentence.
“I know.” His hand came up to cup my face, his thumb brushing over my cheekbone. “We’ll go slow. I’ll show you. Just... please.”
The vulnerability in his eyes, the raw need in his voice, undid me completely. I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.
He reached over to the nightstand, fumbling in the drawer for a moment before pulling out a small bottle. Lube. He’d been prepared for this. The thought that he’d been hoping, planning, made my cock throb.
“Here.” He pressed the bottle into my hand, then shifted onto his side, wincing slightly at the movement. “Just... take your time. And if I tell you to stop, you stop. Okay?”
“Of course.” My hands were shaking as I flipped open the cap. “Dante, are you sure? Your ribs—”
“Are fine.” He looked back at me over his shoulder, and the heat in his eyes could’ve melted steel. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
I poured lube onto my fingers, the cool liquid warming quickly against my skin. I’d been with women before, so I knew the basics of what I was supposed to do. But doing them with a man was different. This was Dante. This mattered.
I reached between his legs, finding the tight ring of muscle. He tensed at the first touch, then deliberately relaxed, breathing out slowly.
“That’s it,” he murmured. “You’ll have to work me open first.”
I circled slowly, getting him used to the sensation, then carefully pressed one finger inside. He was tight, so tight, and hot, and I felt him clench around me.
“Fuck,” he gasped, his hand fisting in the sheets.
“Did I hurt you?”