Page 191 of Buried in Blood
There’s sunlight.
There’s laughter.
There’spossibility.
I glance up at Dante, still asleep, still breathing for me.
I press my lips to his chest, right over the heart that almost stopped for mine.
Then I whisper it to the dark.
Something I never thought I’d say.
“I’m happy.”
And I mean it.
* * *
The morning light wraps around us like a velvet promise.
Soft. Warming. Infinite.
Dante’s hand is warm against my back, fingers moving in lazy circles while we lie tangled in sheets that still smell like cedar and him. Always him. Smoke and sin and something unspoken.
I shift slightly, resting my chin on his chest.
“You like what you see, princess?” He murmurs.
I smile. “Always.”
He opens his eyes, dark and slow, just for me. “I know it.”
His voice is low. Rough. Touched by sleep but layered with something else—need.
My lips brush his collarbone. “Yeah?”
His fingers tighten on my hip. “Yeah.”
And just like that, the air changes.
Not in a rush.
Not in a spark.
But aslow burn. A match lit in the hollow of the dark.
I lift myself to straddle him, the sheet falling away from my bare skin. His hands slide up my thighs, reverent and rough, like he’s touching something sacred and feral all at once.
“You’re not afraid anymore,” he says, like a fact.
I shake my head. “I’m only afraid of losing this.”
His hand cups my jaw, thumb brushing the corner of my mouth. “You won’t.”
“You promise?”
His grip tightens. “I swear on every fucking breath I have left.”
