Page 87 of Iron Heart

And just like that, I realize that somewhere along the line, what I want seems to have changed.

“Life can be what you make it,” I say slowly. “I think I’ve kind of realized that, the last few months in Ironwood.”

I remember back to earlier today. To talking to Don about his mother Mavis, and her amazing life. And I realize it’s not just her time during the war that was amazing. It’s the whole thing.

She had true love. She had the life that she chose. And she chose the life she had.

Maybe it’s time for me to do the same.

“This is the life I want,” I tell Dante, my eyes shining. “In this house. Maybe not the picket fence. But everything else. I want my job at the paper, and Ironwood.” I pause. “And you.”

“Thank Christ,” he sighs. “But I’m warning you. I’ll fuck up again. I’m pretty new to this shit, and I don’t know much about how relationships work. But I’ll never lie to you. And I’ll never cheat on you. You’re the only woman who has ever made me want to stick around, and that ain’t gonna change.”

“Psh,” I scoff. “You can’t scare me any more than my heart already does.”

He pins me with a look.

“I mean it. You? You’re not scary at all. You’re the opposite of scary.”

I lean into him, inhaling his scent. God, I could make a fortune if I bottled it.

Suddenly, everything tilts on its axis and I’m high in the air, in Dante’s arms.

“I’ll teach you not to be appropriately scared of me,” he mock-growls. He stomps out of the living room with me and into the hallway.

“Wait! My crutches!” I call out, pretending to squirm in his arms.

“Fuck ‘em,” he grunts. “You don’t need those things when I’m around.”

“What if I need them later?” I protest as he carries me up the stairs.

“I’ll come back down and get them. Or hell, maybe I’ll just carry you everywhere until your ankle heals.”

Upstairs, Dante strides into my bedroom and lowers me onto the bed.

“This thing ain’t gonna be big enough for us long-term,” Dante grunts, nodding at the mattress.

I thrill at his words, loving that he’s talking about the future. Our future.

“Oh, yeah?” I pant as his lips travel down my neck. He unbuttons the front of my blouse, with a pinched expression on his face that tells me it’s an effort for him not to just rip the thing off. Then my bra is next, both articles of clothing flung to the floor indecorously. I shiver as he takes one hardening nipple into his mouth.

“Oh, God,” I half-moan. “If my heart decides to give out on me right now, this would be a pretty good way to go.”

Dante freezes and raises his head. His eyes snap to mine.

“Kidding,” I snort. “I’m not gonna die.”

Probably.

Dante gives me awatch itlook, then lowers his head again. His tongue slides down my skin, first finding one nipple, and then the other.

“God, I’ve missed this. It’s made me crazy, not to touch you,” he groans. His voice is thick, and the sound of it sends shots of electric thrill through my body. I’ve missed it too, so much. I know how it feels when he pushes deep inside me, practically splitting me in two. My core begins to throb, anticipating it, wanting it.

Dante is gentle. More gentle than I remember him being. I’m not sure if it’s because of my ankle, or something else. But the softness of his touch, the slow way he kisses and licks down my skin as he travels downwards —this is what love feels like, I realize dizzily.He’s loving me with his mouth, with his hands, with his…

Dante finds my sex, already so wet and ready for him. He pushes my legs apart, groaning. “Jesus Christ, I love your taste. I crave it.” His voice is thick with lust. He plunges his tongue inside me. I gasp and fist my hands in his hair, chest arching upward.

“Dante,” I moan.

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