Page 125 of Made for Sinners

He leaned in, his mouth brushing mine. “Now I’m sure.”

I kissed him then—slow and deep and full of everything I hadn’t said yet.

Because I loved him too.

Even if I hadn’t admitted it yet.

Even if I wasn’t ready to say the words.

I loved him.

And I was his.

Completely.

Irrevocably.

And maybe that was the most dangerous part of all.

I didn’t say it back.

Not because I didn’t feel it—God, I felt it. I felt it in the way my chest tightened when he looked at me like I was the only thing that mattered. I felt it in the way he said my name, low and reverent, like it was a prayer he didn’t deserve to speak. I felt it in the way he touched me—possessive, tender, like I was something he’d bled for.

But the words sat heavy on my tongue, too big, too dangerous to set free.

Because once I said them, there’d be no going back.

And I wasn’t sure I’d survive loving Dante Conti out loud.

He didn’t press me. Of course he didn’t. He just kissed me again, slow and sure, like he already knew. Like he’d waited this long, and he could wait a little longer.

But I saw the flicker of something in his eyes when he pulled back. Not disappointment. Not exactly. Just… hope. Quiet and patient and terrifying in its own right.

I stood in the kitchen long after he left the room, my fingers still curled around the edge of the marble counter, my heart thudding like it was trying to break free of my ribs.

He loved me.

He’d said it. Out loud. Like it was nothing. Like it was everything.

And I hadn’t said it back.

I wasn’t sure if that made me brave or a coward.

?

I found him in his office later, sleeves rolled up, tie discarded, shirt half-unbuttoned like he’d started to get dressed and then decided it wasn’t worth the effort. He was leaning over his desk, fingers tapping against the edge of a file folder, his expression unreadable.

He didn’t look up when I stepped inside.

“You’re quiet,” he said, his voice even.

“I’m thinking,” I replied.

He glanced at me then, one brow lifting. “Dangerous.”

I walked to the desk and perched on the edge, crossing my legs slowly, deliberately. “You’re one to talk.”

He smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Fair.”

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