Page 78 of His Son's Ex

He pulls back slightly, his gaze locking onto mine, intense and unwavering. “Let me prove it to you every day.” His eyes flick over my face, searching. “I know you’re scared, but I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

He takes the bowl from my hands and sets it on the nightstand, then dips his head and kisses me. It’s soft and tentative at first, feeling almost like an apology.But then it deepens, turning into something I can’t resist, something that melts me every time.

I exhale against his mouth, sliding my arms up around his neck. He tastes of lingering whiskey—he must have had some to calm his nerves—and something inherently him. My pulse speeds up, the day’s stress morphing into a sudden, desperate need to be closer to him, to lose myself in him.

He seems to sense it, guiding me backward until I’m laying down. We break apart for the briefest moment, my breath catching as I stare into his eyes. They’re dark and hungry, reflecting the same longing I feel pounding through my veins.

“You sure?” he murmurs, fingers trailing down my arm. “After everything…”

I nod, swallowing hard. “I want this. I want you,” I admit, cheeks flushing at my own candor. “I need to forget about Linda, Luca,the bullet, the break-ins, and everything else. If only for a little while.”

He smiles softly, understanding written plainly across his features. “Then forget,” he whispers. “I’ll help you.”

His hands slide under the hem of my sweater, skimming over my skin. A rush of warmth follows his touch, and I let out a longing sigh. He moves over me, bracing on his forearms, careful not to place too much pressure on my body, both of us aware I’m carrying something priceless.

I pull him down for another kiss, this time more urgent. My fingers slip through his hair, curling around the nape of his neck, and he groans softly, lips parting against mine. Each brush of his mouth sets off sparks beneath my skin, a reminder of how perfectly we fit together.

He shifts his weight, and I feel the gentle press of his body against mine. It’s reassuring and electric all at once, a spark that travels from my toes up through every nerve in my body. Our kisses grow more heated, more frantic, as though we’re both trying to burn away the stress of the day.

Soon, our clothes are in a haphazard pile on the floor. Pillows go flying as we shift toward the center, our bodies entangled in a fury of kisses and frantic touches.

He takes his time exploring my skin, trailing kisses down my neck and across my collarbone, making my breath hitch and my nails dig into his shoulders. I don’t hold back when his mouth finds a particularly sensitive spot near my collarbone. He glances up, lips curved in a satisfied smile.

“Relax,” he whispers. “Let me take care of you.”

He captures my mouth in another deep kiss. My legs part instinctively, welcoming the warm press of him. Each brush of his lips sparks a sweet ache between my thighs, the one only he can satisfy. My nails graze his back, the tension in me coiling tighter with every passing second.

“Tell me if I’m going too deep or too fast. If anything hurts.”

I grin. “I’ll let you know.”

A lustful groan escapes him as he drops kisses along my throat, down to the slope of my breast. The sensation makes me gasp, and I arch into him. He pulls down my bra, bringing his mouth to my nipple, gently sucking and licking it. I help him out, reaching back and undoing the clasp then pulling the straps down my shoulders.

He takes his time, his hands exploring every curve, every softness. At first, his touch is almost too gentle, like he’s afraid I’ll break. But I patiently guide him, moaning and encouraging him. The tension builds into a slow burn, and my fingers grip the sheets tightly.

His kisses begin to head southward, and my entire body shivers in anticipation, every nerve ending alive and waiting. His lips skim the inside of my thigh, and my breath catches.

“Dante,” I murmur, “Stop teasing.”

His smile is dark and wolflike. “You like bossing me around now?”

“Only when you deserve it.”

He laughs softly then shifts lower, his hands spreading my lips. I can feel the heat of his breath before his mouth touches me, and when it does…

“Oh, god,” I gasp, head tipping back.

He’s patient but thorough, like he’s memorizing me all over again. Tongue soft and teasing at first, then firm, steady strokes. My fingers slide into his hair in an attempt to guide him, but one of his hands slides up, holding me in place, firm and possessive.

His tongue dances over my clit, a finger sliding into me and curling in the way that drives me wild. I’m soaked, bucking my hips against his mouth.

I moan, low and helpless, and his response mirrors mine, dark and hungry. The sound vibrates against me, sending sparks down my spine.

I don’t hold back. I grind my pussy into his face, fingers buried in his hair, hips rocking shamelessly as the pressure builds. The coil inside me tightens until I breathe his name.

“Dante.” My voice is husky and desperate.

He doesn’t stop until I’m writhing in an attempt to get away from his mouth, crying out his name in a hoarse, broken gasp. He kisses the inside of my thigh, slow and intentional, then looks up at me like I’m his religion.

---