Page 32 of Tesoro: Mayhem Makers

“Dante is awake.”

Glancing over my shoulder, expecting him to be standing behind me. When all I see is the yellowing walls of the vintage farmhouse, I turn back to Frankie.

“How do you know?”

Tapping his phone, “His alarm went off. It’s his turn to watch Angelo.”

Shifting my gaze to the clock on the wall, a teapot whistled the hour, I find it’s nearly one in the morning.

Jumping to my feet, I wipe my lips with a napkin. “I need to check on his wound.”

“Tell Dante his steak will be in the oven when he is ready.” Frankie calls as I head down the hall.

Stepping over the threshold, I notice the chair Dante slept in empty, the fan from the bathroom humming from behind the closed door.

Slipping on a pair of gloves, I pull the bandage from Angelo’s chest, pleased to see the redness was all but gone, the swelling non-existent.

“Do you know how sexy you are when you’re working?” Dante’s voice is like the richest chocolate, deep and sultry.

“I thought you didn’t like the sight of your brother’s bodily fluids,” I tease as I feel Dante’s hands slip around my waist.

“I don’t,” he places a kiss on the crook of my neck. “But I’d love to see yours.”

I try to remind myself he’s leaving, back to his life on the wild side and all that it implied.

“His fever is gone,” I croak, my ovaries ready to explode with the sexual tension.

“Mine isn’t, Tesoro.”

Dante spins me around, crashing his lips to mine. His kiss is raw and domineering, and I can’t get enough. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I feel him pick me up before spinning on his heels and moving us across the room.

He breaks the kiss as my back collides with something solid.

“I want to do this right, Tesoro, but you make me want you so fucking bad.” He emphasizes his point by grinding his erection into me.

How long has it been since I’ve had sex? A year, two? I forget.

Silencing my mental ramblings by pulling his mouth to mine, I spear my fingers into his thick hair, pleasantly surprised it is everything I imagined it would be. A moan escapes my throat as I feel his hands migrate down my sides and under my shirt.

“Fuck, Tesoro.”

Knowing he isn’t violating any marital contracts makes the term of endearment music to my ears.

“Yes, please,” I acknowledge breathlessly, wanting nothing more than to be so close to him we taste the same. Right now, in this moment, I don't want to think about him leaving, or spending the rest of my life wondering what could have been.

Frankie’s admission of the cameras placed around the house tickles at the edge of my conscience. “Bathroom,” I pant as his thumb brushes against my nipple.

“Not on your life, Tesoro.” Dante releases me long enough to toss me over his shoulder and run down the hall. My breath is robbed of me as he lays me sideways on his bed before covering me with his body. Looking in his deep eyes, I understand his desire to be in here. No cameras, no prying eyes, just us.

Pushing at his chest, I force him to sit up as I remove first my shirt, then his. With desire in his eyes he drinks in my bare chest, taking one nipple between his fingers, the other between his lips.

“Oh, fuck yes.” Tilting my head back, I allow a moan to leave my throat. Dante takes the sound as encouragement, pushing me onto my back. “Use your teeth.” I demand, placing my hands under my breasts in encouragement. Dante knows his way around a set of tits, a skill I’m grateful for.

His face is covered in want, as he unbuttons my jeans before lowering them down my legs. There is no awkwardness, no worry if I will disappoint him.

Dante holds my gaze as he lowers himself between my thighs, my back arching in a severe curve as his tongue slips between my folds.

“Fuck.” The oath leaves my lips. I’ve never been a big on using foul language, always conscious of how I address patients. However, in this instance, with the skill Dante is showing, the word is completely fitting.

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