CHAPTER SIXTEEN #2
It struck him so deeply reverberating through the very marrow of his bones, that thought ceased. The fundamental realization that he was valued for his humanity, for the man beneath the monster, shattered whatever restraint he had left.
Dante moved.
He ignored the pull of his stitches. He crossed the small expanse of the woven rug, closing the distance between them in a heartbeat. He didn't give her a chance to retreat, and he didn't give himself a chance to second-guess.
He reached out, his large hands framing her face. His long fingers slipped into the soft hair at the nape of her neck, tilting her head up, and he kissed her.
It wasn't a tentative, questioning touch.
It was a kiss born of pure, desperate reverence.
His mouth pressed warmly, firmly against hers, pouring every ounce of the unspoken awe he felt for her into the contact.
Cassia let out a soft, startled intake of breath against his lips, her eyes fluttering shut.
For one fleeting, suspended second, she melted into him.
Her hands came up, her fingers lightly gripping the fabric of his sweater at his chest, answering the pressure of his mouth with a yielding heat of her own.
It was grounding, and breathtaking.
But as the rush of adrenaline spiked in her veins, the survival instincts forged by thirty years of independence violently reasserted themselves.
Cassia pulled back.
She broke the kiss, her chest heaving slightly, her pale blue eyes wide as she stared at him. True to form, the vulnerability terrified her. She immediately scrambled backward a few inches, putting physical distance between them, and retreated straight behind her usual, prickly defensiveness.
She cleared her throat, aggressively smoothing the hem of her cashmere sweater, refusing to look directly at his mouth.
"You are going to tear your intercostal sutures moving like that," Cassia muttered, her voice slightly breathless, desperately trying to re-establish the clinical, detached tone of a physician to mask the chaotic thudding of her heart.
Dante didn't push forward. He let his hands fall back to his lap, giving her the space she needed. But he was undeterred. A slow, brilliant, satisfied smile spread across his face. He had felt the way she kissed him back. He had felt the heat before she panicked.
"I will risk the sutures," Dante murmured softly, his eyes dancing with affection. He didn't let the main objective fade. "So? Will you spend the day with me? Just the two of us?"
Cassia glared at him, trying to summon her usual irritation, but it lacked its normal bite. Her lips still tingled from the pressure of his.
"I am busy," Cassia deflected, crossing her arms over her chest defensively.
"You just said you were free," Dante reminded her gently, leaning forward slightly, his smile unwavering.
He decided to lower the pressure, shifting the conversation to something a little safer.
"Besides, my mother has been asking about you again.
She was wondering if you might want to come by the estate sometime soon. "
Cassia let out an incredulous scoff, seizing the change in topic like a lifeline.
"Your mother," Cassia repeated, rolling her eyes. She leaned back against the edge of the sofa behind her, finally meeting his gaze again. "You know, when she came marching into the trauma ward to thank me after you got sliced open in the alleyway... do you know what my first thought was?"
Dante chuckled, settling back onto the rug. "I shudder to think."
"My first thought," Cassia said, pointing a finger at him, "was that the great, Dante Fazzari was, in fact, nothing more than a pesky toddler.
A grown man whose mother still felt compelled to personally track down the doctor and thank them for patching up her unruly child after he scraped his knee at recess. "
Dante threw his head back and laughed, the rich, echoing sound filling the apartment.
"And honestly," Cassia added, her chin lifting defiantly, refusing to back down from the insult, "I still think that is what you are."
Dante unbothered by the jab only smiled at her. He looked at the fierce, defensive wall she had thrown up, and he saw right over the top of it. He knew she was using the insult as a shield because the kiss had shaken her.
"If I am a toddler," Dante asked softly, his voice dropping an octave, slipping right beneath her defenses, "then why were you so worried about me?"
Cassia froze.
"Didn't you admit as much already?" Dante pressed gently, his pale green eyes locking onto hers, recalling the warehouse. "You were terrified."
Cassia’s jaw tightened. She didn't confirm it outright. She refused to give him the verbal satisfaction of hearing the words again. But she didn't deny it either. The silence stretched in the dimly lit living room and undeniable.
She looked at him, trying to project a mask of total indifference. But something in the softening of her icy blue eyes, in the faint, lingering flush on her cheeks, gave away vastly more than her words ever would. She was terrified of the connection, but she was already tethered to him.
Dante read her expression perfectly. The affection in his chest expanded, warm and clear.
He leaned forward, closing the distance just enough to ensure she heard every single syllable, his voice dropping into a register of promise.
"In three days," Dante told her, his tone leaving no room for argument or retreat. "We will finally spend some real time together. Just you and me."
Cassia looked at the formidable, dangerous, incredibly gentle man sitting on her living room floor. She opened her mouth to argue, to throw up another barricade of sarcasm and logic.
But she didn't say anything in response this time.
She looked at him, the silence acting as a reluctant surrender. And deep beneath her usual, impenetrable composure, hidden behind layers of survival instincts and medical pragmatism, Cassia found herself genuinely, undeniably looking forward to it.