Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 54572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
I felt her melt.
That was the moment I knew I hadn’t imagined it. That this wasn’t some one-night illusion I had built in my head to survive getting older alone.
She wanted this too.
I broke the kiss just long enough to press my forehead to hers, breath rough, voice low. “I had one taste of something good,” I muttered, the truth tumbling out of me. “And I’m not letting it go.”
Then I kissed her again. She didn’t stop me. Didn’t hesitate.
Her mouth opened to mine like it had been waiting. She kissed me back with heat and hunger that knocked the breath out of my lungs, her hands sliding under my jacket, palms flat against my back like she needed the contact to ground herself.
We backed into the living room without looking, knocking into the edge of the couch, a chair scraping softly across the floor. Her place was just like her—clean, intentional, nothing wasted. No clutter. No chaos.
Except for us. We were the whole damn storm of crazy.
I pushed her gently but firmly until she was sitting, then standing again, then pressed back against the wall. My hands skimmed her waist, her ribs, memorizing the lines of her through her clothes. Her head tipped back as I kissed down her throat, felt her breath hitch under my mouth.
“Dante,” she whispered my name as a warning this time.
I lifted my head, eyes dark. “Tell me to stop.”
She didn’t. She pulled me back to her instead. That was all the permission I needed.
The rest of it blurred—not because it wasn’t intense, but because it was. Heat and movement and the sound of our breathing filling the room. Clothes discarded in a trail that led nowhere but into each other. The couch creaked. The wall pressed cool against my back at one point. Her nails dug into my shoulders like she was holding on to something solid.
There was nothing polite about it.
Nothing careful.
Just two people colliding with years of restraint burning off in seconds. I stayed present, grounded, making sure she felt me there—hands steady, mouth intentional even when the urgency spiked. When she made that soft, broken sound against my shoulder, I swore under my breath and held her tighter.
When it was over, we stayed exactly where we were.
Me on my back on the rug, her sprawled across my chest, skin warm, hair tickling my jaw. My heart thudded hard enough that I was surprised she didn’t comment on it.
I stared at the ceiling, chest rising and falling, feeling more alive than I had in years.
She shifted first, pushing up onto her elbows, eyes studying my face like she was cataloging damage.
“Well,” she spoke finally, voice light but eyes sharp. “That was a good visit, Dante.”
I felt it coming before she said it. “You should go to your hotel.”
There it was. My dismissal.
I turned my head to look at her fully. “No.”
Her brow creased. “No?”
“No,” I repeated calmly. “I’m staying.”
She sat back on her heels, crossing her arms over her chest, naked and still somehow composed. “That wasn’t an invitation to move in or even stay overnight.”
I smiled despite myself. “Didn’t say it was. Don’t remember asking for an invitation.”
“Then—” she began but I cut her off.
“I’m staying with you,” I stated evenly, sitting up, forearms resting on my knees. “Until we figure out what we’re gonna do.”
She stared at me like she didn’t quite trust what she was hearing.
“You don’t get to just decide that.”
“Sure I do. You had a chance to answer my calls and discuss our options. You didn’t answer, so here I am.”
She scoffed. “You’re impossible.”
“Been called worse.”
For a long moment, she just looked at me. I could see the fight in her—the instinct to keep control, to protect her independence like it was a hard-earned medal.
Then, unexpectedly, her mouth curved. It wasn’t big. It wasn’t flashy. But it was real.
“I don’t know what to do with you,” she said.
I leaned back on my hands, smirk tugging at my mouth. “Great. ’Cause baby, I don’t know what to do with me either.”
She laughed then soft, surprised, like it had slipped past her defenses. I stood and offered her my hand, pulling her up until we were close enough again to feel the heat between us without touching.
“What I know,” I shared, voice dropping, sincerity threading through every word, “is I’ve lived enough life to know when something is good, you don’t let it slip through your fingers.” My thumb brushed her jaw, not pushing, not claiming—just there. “And baby,” I continued quietly, “you’re the best thing I ever had a sample of. I can only imagine what we could be together.”
Her eyes searched mine, walls cracking but not falling. Not yet.
That was fine.
I wasn’t going anywhere.
Not this time.
Chapter 16
Nita
A week passed before I realized I was smiling more than I wasn’t. It wasn’t the kind of grin that announced itself. It was subtle. Sneaky. Natural. The sort that lived in the corners of my mouth when I was reading emails or stirring coffee or listening to Dante hum low and off-key in my kitchen while he pretended not to know I was watching him.