Chapter 33 #2
He moved until he was over me, propping himself up on his forearms as he looked down at me.
I adjusted until he was lying in between my legs, his hand in my hair.
“Well . . .” He peppered my jaw with kisses.
“I was going to say the label was mine.” He kissed me lightly.
“But property of Dante Spence . . .” He kissed me again, deeper this time.
“Fuck, that got me hard. So yeah.” He nipped at my lower lip.
“That’s the label. Property of Dante Spence. ”
My legs tightened around his hips as he ground lightly against me, my sleep shorts the only thing between us.
“And what’s your label?” I asked him, only semi-seriously, because he was moving just right over my clit, lightly but with intent. “Property of Savannah Cole?”
Dante groaned low in his throat. “Yeah, I’m going to need these to come off, Sav,” he mumbled, sitting back so he was kneeling between my legs.
He tugged my sleep shorts off. “You got more condoms in that drawer?” he asked, throwing my shorts aside.
“No clothes rule for bed,” he added with a wink.
“And I don’t want to know who those condoms were bought for,” he said, and looked like he genuinely meant it.
I rolled my eyes, which quickly became me arching my back as he slipped two fingers inside me. “My mother bought me them when I was a freshman, you’re the first time I opened the drawer for them.”
“Your mother?” His fingers paused as he hesitated. “She’s alive?”
The question threw me. “Dante, when you have your fingers inside me, can you not talk about my parents?”
He laughed, resuming his gentle thrusting. “Right, sorry.” He withdrew his fingers, and I mewled in protest. “I’ll make it up to you,” he whispered, his tongue replacing his fingers. “Until you forgive me.”
Jesus . . .
* * *
I don’t know when I fell asleep. All I knew was that when Dante said he needed a minute, it was a lie. The man kept me awake most of the night, and I have a dim recollection of being helped to the bathroom and then staggering back and collapsing beside him, my body completely satiated.
He was sleeping soundly beside me. Since the rooms were soundproof, I had no idea if Bev was home, and I was too comfortable to move to see what time it was. However, sunlight was coming through my window, it was Sunday, and I had nowhere to be.
I think I dozed off again, because the next time I woke up, Dante was half sitting up, legs stretched out beside me, my head on his chest, and he was on his phone.
“What time is it?” I asked sleepily, curling in tighter to his side.
“Ten thirty.”
My eyes flew open, and I looked up at him. “Shit! Do you have somewhere you should be?”
“Nope.” He gave me that grin. “You?”
“Nope.” I pushed myself into a sitting position. “Coffee?”
“I will love you forever if you make me coffee,” he said with a seriousness that I wasn’t sure if he was telling me he already loved me, and it was far too soon for those thoughts to be crowding in my head.
“Okay, gimme a minute.”
Dante nodded and picked up his phone again, and I felt suddenly self-conscious as I realized I was still naked and I needed the bathroom.
“You cover up and I’ll spank you,” he said without looking away from his phone. “You’ve nothing to hide, I’ve seen you, fucked you, and tasted every inch of you, Sav.” His eyes flicked to mine. “You don’t need to be self-conscious.”
I hesitated. “Well, not all of us look like you, and aren’t used to parading around naked in front of all your teammates.” I reached for my PJ top and pulled it on.
Dante’s brows raised with amusement. “What kind of fantasies do you have about the male locker rooms?” he asked me.
“Shut up.” I got my shorts and stepped into them. “I’m making coffee.” I headed to the door, then turned around. “Right after the bathroom.”
His low chuckle made me grin like an idiot as I locked the door. When I was done, I hastily brushed my teeth, and then I sneaked into the kitchen, hoping Bev was asleep, and quickly set up the coffee machine.
By the time I went back into my bedroom, Dante was wearing his jeans and sitting with his back to the wall, long legs stretched out, and feet on the floor.
“God, that smells good,” he murmured as I handed him a mug.
“I don’t know if you take—”
“Black. The only way it’s supposed to be drunk.”
“Of course you would be a black-coffee drinker,” I murmured, sitting at my desk. I took a sip of my coffee, not ashamed of my French vanilla-flavored creamer.
“So, your mom’s alive?”
I blinked. “Um, yes. Very much so. Did you think she’d died?”
“Well . . .” He looked at me. “You never mentioned her.”
“I’ve only known you for a few weeks,” I reminded him dryly.
“Yeah, but you’re so worried about your dad, I just figured she was out of the picture. Or dead.” He shrugged. “You’re not someone who I could see someone walking away from willingly, so I figured, you know . . .”
“Dead.” A dead mom? Did I give off those vibes?
“Sorry?” He drank his coffee, and I knew what was coming next, so I saved him from the awkwardness.
“My mom and dad are still married. She’s a neurosurgeon in L.A.
She’s very good,” I added grudgingly. “She likes to think she and my dad have an open relationship.” I saw his frown.
“She fucks around a lot,” I explained. “He says it’s because of the high pressure of her job, I say it’s because she’s a tramp.
” I gave him a tight smile when his eyebrows lifted in surprise.
“Dad forgave her when he caught her a few years ago. So they’re together, but not. ”
“He forgave her,” Dante said as he set his mug down. “You not so much?”
“I don’t like liars.”
He nodded. “I know.” He kept watching me. “So, you guys don’t talk?”
“No.”
“Does she try?”
I broke his stare. “She called me the other day because I fell out with Dad and she wanted to remind me he was worried about me or some crap, but I can guarantee you if you’d asked her why I was mad, she wouldn’t be able to tell you.”
Dante nodded. “So we don’t talk about Mom,” he stated simply.
I felt stupidly grateful he wasn’t pushing it. “Thank you.”
“My dad left when we were younger,” he told me simply. Matter-of-fact. Very Dante. “He didn’t keep in touch, and my mom didn’t look for it. My pops — grandfather,” he explained unnecessarily, “helped raise us. If not Mom, then Pops took me to practice and stuff.”
“You said we?”
He looked at me for a long moment. “I have a sister, Jiana,” he said quietly. “It’s a longer story.”
“I made a pot.”
“Well, okay then.” He gave me a considering look. “Before I do this, you meant it last night?” he asked. “You’re mine?”
“I’m your girlfriend,” I confirmed, still feeling slightly in awe that I was. “If we’re labeling things,” I added teasingly.
“Totally labeling,” he said, his shoulders relaxing. “So, go get coffee, Property of Dante, and when you come back, I’ll tell you all about Jiana Spence.”
I had no idea why I was suddenly nervous for this conversation.