Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Tatiana
I’m drifting in a sea of pleasure, a thick bank of lust rolling in like soft mist over the shore. A wave of need gently nudges me closer to the rising tide, closer to reality, but I’m not ready to wake up from this dream.
I stretch like a cat, soaking up the heat that travels over every inch of my body and teasing all the follicles on my skin into goosebumps. “Mm.”
“That’s my girl.”
Dante’s deep, seductive voice reaches me as if it’s echoing from inside me.
“Come for me, darling.”
Giving in to the incredible rush that sweeps through me and pulls in one direction, I open my eyes with a cry of ecstasy, embracing the passage from sleep to consciousness and also the man who kisses his way up my stomach.
I’m wet and hot from his tongue between my legs, all my most sensitive parts throbbing from my explosive release. Flutters linger in my belly, sparked back into vicious flapping when the man I love and adore nips the sensitive spot where my neck meets my shoulder.
“Dante,” I moan, breathing him in.
He smells like shower gel and that understated, sophisticated scent of leather and virility, of a beautiful, powerful, and dangerous man.
Our eyes meet when he lifts his head to stare at me with a cocky smile on his sexy lips.
I’m lost in the depths of those amber pools, in the flames that burn for me, and in the ink that covers his skin.
A delicious weight presses between my thighs, its hardness a promise of new and fiercer pleasure.
Threading my fingers through his hair, I hold on to that gaze so that I can etch the fire reflecting his own need into my memory.
I can never get used to the fact that I have this power over him, that he wants me so much he seems to be in pain.
I get a little drunk on the knowledge each and every time.
The growl that rumbles deep in his chest is an affirmation of my thoughts.
The intention in his eyes is so darkly predatory that it’s scary.
It’s the wild look in the golden eyes of a lion about to tear into its prey.
It’s the feverish regard of a devoted believer looking upon his god as he goes down on his knees to pray.
He pushes my nightdress up to my waist and hooks his fingers into the elastic of my panties.
I let go of him and lift my hips on his silent instruction, mesmerized by the maddening passion drawn in stark lines on his handsome face as I bend my knees to make the task of removing my underwear easier for him.
He draws the panties free and, like I knew he would, brings them to his nose and inhales deeply.
I lock my arms around his neck again and draw him closer, heat rising to my cheeks. “Why do you always do that?”
“Because it turns me on.”
The answer is straightforward and honest. There’s never been a place for lies in our bed, no matter where we happened to make that bed. Sometimes, it was on a blanket on the beach. At other times, it was the comfortable mattress of a king-sized bed scattered with rose petals in a fancy guesthouse.
There’s never been lies between us. Point.
Or has there been?
The sharpened point of doubt pierces my heart.
“Dante.”
He pushes one bent knee back, opening me up more. The hard, searing promise of earlier becomes a solid pressure where I’m split open, waiting, vulnerable and exposed. His perfect face is a mask of concentration as he slowly drives his hips down until a smooth, thick intrusion parts my folds.
I cry out with pleasure, almost forgetting what I was going to say.
He reaches for my wrists where my fingers are intertwined at his nape and gently pulls my hands apart before pushing them palms-up on the mattress above my head.
His gaze bores into mine as he takes me deeper, sinking another inch into me.
That shard of glass in my heart compels me to speak. “Where have you been?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
He kisses my lips, slipping his tongue between them. I taste myself in the kiss, the climax he’s so generously given me, as well as the lie.
Because it does matter. That’s why he’s inside me now. He always takes me with delirious need and maddening kisses when he has a lot going on in his head, whether that be work or other problems.
I arch my back as he closes the last distance, claiming everything I have to offer with a single thrust.
As he starts to move, he studies my face like a dying man looking upon rain in the desert, obliterating my words. Every punch of his hips steals my breath, coaxing the air to leave my lungs with a gasp.
He keeps a leisurely rhythm. He’s not going to rush this. Diving for my mouth, he catches my bottom lip between his teeth. The nip stings, sending more heat to my core.
I curl my fingers around the big hands pinning mine to the bed, following the dance he leads with his hips. “Were you in danger?”
The scorching heat of the fire in his gaze softens to the hazy glow of smoldering embers, but then he changes his angle and hits a spot that makes my toes curl.
“Don’t worry about me.” He rolls his hips, giving me his dimpled smile. “I can take care of myself.”
“How can I not worry if I don’t know where you are?”
The playful light in his eyes vanishes, leaving him open for me to read. The man behind the civilized veneer appears, the lethal, unfairly attractive male with sharp intelligence who hypnotizes its prey with a disarming smile even as he plunges the blade all the way to the bone.
An involuntary shiver ripples through me. “Dante.”
“I’m here now.” He picks up his pace, keeping me trapped beneath him. “That’s what matters.”
Oh, God. Yes. That’s all that matters as I wrap my legs around his hips, trying to draw him deeper.
He claims my lips again, robbing me of all thoughts with a kiss that I feel in the cold places of my heart and the empty spaces of my soul.
As if sensing the exact moment of my surrender, he lets my wrists go and holds himself up on one arm while slipping his free hand between our bodies to press a thumb on my oversensitive clit. He runs the calloused pad in circles over my swollen flesh as he ups his rhythm and deepens his strokes.
We go over together, lost in a daze of lust and the sweetness of the moment. And I want to believe that this is all that matters—that he’s here with me, in my arms. Inside me. Riding out his pleasure. That forgotten memories don’t count.
Not ready to let him go, I keep my ankles locked behind his ass.
He used a condom because his cum isn’t leaking down my thighs.
I can smell the faint scent of the lubricated rubber.
He must’ve rolled it on before he’d gotten into bed.
Knowing that he knew exactly what he was planning when he fitted that condom before slipping between the sheets sends a wave of satisfying heat to my belly.
He wanted me. He still desires me. He thought about me when he came home. Maybe he imagined how he wanted to wake me up while he was still on his way.
Staying inside me, he rolls us over so that I’m lying on his chest. The gesture is sweet. He wants to maintain our contact but is making sure he doesn’t crush me under his weight.
I press my cheek on his chest, allowing the strong, steady beat of his heart to reassure me. We’re quiet as he strokes my hair. The moment is peaceful. Until the door is flung open so hard that it bangs against the wall.
I give a start. Dante acts fast, reversing our positions so that he’s covering me even though he’s the one who’s naked. I’m still wearing my nightdress.
“Daddy!” Noah comes bouncing into the room. “You’re back!”
Suppressing a giggle, I make sure the covers are pulled up to Dante’s waist. He rolls off me just in time because Noah is already clambering up the bed.
Our son is wearing a shirt and a pair of chinos that resemble the clothes Dante wears when he doesn’t go into the office.
Noah always wants to dress like his dad, so in my absence, Jazz took him clothes shopping to cheer him up.
She told me Dante gave her his credit card and told her to spend as much as she liked.
Noah makes his cross face. “You weren’t here for breakfast.”
Dante moves up to the headboard, taking the covers with him. “That will happen from time to time, big man. Sometimes, I have to go away for work.”
I sit up too, attacked by a sudden bout of guilt. “Have you been awake for long?”
Noah nods. “Emily made me scrambled eggs.”
“I’m sorry.” The wine must be the reason that I slept so late. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”
Noah makes big eyes. “Emily said I shouldn’t wake you. She said you needed to rest.”
I wrap my arms around his small body and pull him closer. “You can always wake me up.”
“Emily was right,” Dante says. “You obviously needed the sleep, my darling.”
“She said she didn’t mind looking after me,” Noah pipes in. “She said she likes it when I talk to her.”
“You should make use of her offer to keep an eye on Noah,” Dante says. “You may as well accept her help while she’s here.”
“All right, you two.” I smile. “Don’t make it seem as if I’m not capable of doing my motherly and wifely duties.”
“Never,” Dante says with a glint in his eyes.
As if I haven’t just drowned in his serious gaze so full of frenzied passion and possessive heat a moment ago, I get lost in his eyes all over again. I almost forget where we are and about everything else until Noah bounces on the bed.
“Can we make pancakes, Daddy?”
Dante mock-wrestles him. “I thought you already had breakfast.”
My heart melts as I watch them play. Dante looks like a god sculpted from granite with his broad chest, strong arms, and well-defined muscles. Noah takes so much after him. Every day, their resemblance grows stronger. Our son is going to be a looker when he’s grown up.
What more can I want when I have the two men I love most in the world with me? This, right here, is what happiness is.
Maybe Dante is right.