Page 36 of Fall
Sunlight bursts in through the window, fracturing light over porcelain. Beams dance on the polished stainless steel faucet, refracting a colorful rainbow arc on the wall. It’s a reminder of my simple life in the Highlands. My real home.
I’m snapped out of the daze when the door handle jerks and the door opens. Dante stands in the shadowy corridor. His torso remains gloriously bare, and his gloved hands fist at his thighs. The muscles of his jaw work as he pauses before me in silence. We stare quietly at each other. Him preparing, and me, unsure what for. I sense an undercurrent of crazy rippling through him. Hunger vibrates around his form, suggesting he’s close to combustion, or worse, that a need for violence has blacked out the last wisp of decency.
Something isn’t right.
My heart booms faster when he stalks into the washroom, pivots and locks the door. While he slowly uncovers his hands, a spectrum of light emblazons his sculpted chest. He is gorgeous in the sunshine. Masculine and sexy with hair all mussed up.
Edgy movements scream of compulsory control. There’s a wildness terrorizing his gaze when he faces me and stuffs the gloves into his back pocket. Closing the distance in three strides, he gently presses two fingers to my sternum and backs me against the wall.
Usually, when I stare into his eyes, I’m blocked by high walls. Halted by a boundary I desperately wish to hack away. Only this time, it’s different. There’s a profound connection linking him to me. An acute awareness of our intimate bond forged from misfortune.
Fingertips caress my jawline, carefully assessing the silvery scar tissue. The movement is soft and curious. Gentle and thrilling. I gaze up at him and find an openness like never before. With tenderness, wishful thinking and questioning behind searching eyes.
“Are you okay?” His voice is hoarse with tiredness, his breath hot against my face.
I nod, taking him all in. A flurry of tingles dance over my skin when he presses his forehead to mine. I’m totally besotted with him. Granted, he faked my death and held me hostage. He’s also killed as many men as he’s employed and probably fucked more women than I can bear. However, the way he’s looking at me now isn’t cruel or callous. His expression doesn’t whisper a vow of punishment or sting with hatred. It’s so much more, and I dare to believe he’s lost in this black magic, too. I fear I’ve fallen when he dots a kiss to the end of my nose, and my heart aches for him. The power behind the emotion is far superior than anything I’ve ever lived through.
Closing my eyes, I breathe him in. The familiar scents of citrus and salty sweat awaken hundreds of butterflies in my rib cage. I gulp them down before managing a whisper, “Is Laoch sleeping?”
“He’s fine.” There’s a strained roughness to his tone.
His hands slide from my cheeks to my shoulders and stop at the knot next to my belly button. Exotic forest green eyes lock on to me. The fabric unravels, and he tugs the T-shirt over my head. One by one, he pops open the buttons at my navel. Dark pupils dilate to pinpricks, expanding when his fingers skim the bare flesh beneath.
I exhale and let him lower the shorts to my ankles. This time, he doesn’t seize or snatch like I’m used to. Instead, he slots his warm hands at either side of my waist and effortlessly lifts me into the air.
Our chests collide, and I crawl onto him, hooking my legs around his hips. My fingers run through his hair when he sets my ass between the dual washbasins. He splits his attention, biting one nipple and then the next, devouring each breast with a hunger to make my mind spin. Then he looks up at me, his mouth latched on and his eyes burning. My nipple pops free, and he takes his time to straighten, brushing his nose over my skin. Bare hands cradle my face in his palms. His forehead bumps to mine as he inhales. We both do.
I sense a second of hesitation. It screams at me when his lips part and words fail him. Then, without delay, his mouth descends, and his wicked tongue slips between my teeth, making me liquefy. The kiss he offers is the last thing I ever expected from this man. It’s leisurely and soft with indulgence. Purposely disciplined as though he’s savoring the taste of me. My breath becomes his, and our lips threaten to never part.
After a mind-scrambling moment, he breaks away and releases his cock. So thick in girth and angry in anticipation. My blood thrums with willingness. I lift my knees higher, eyeing the serious lines furrowing his brow. Untamed hair catches as he blinks. He’s breathtaking.
“Dante…” I breathe his name when he spreads my thighs wide.
“Do you want this?” he asks.
“Yes,” I swallow my fluttering nerves, answering with honesty. “I wantyou.” Not just sex and intimacy, but all of it. All of him.
He glides feather light fingertips from my jugular, between my breasts and lower, studying the expanse of goosebumps on my exposed skin. My reaction to his touch lights a fire behind his eyes. “Do you need this as much as I do?”
His hand drops between us, and he slips a finger easily inside me. I’m ready for him, burning up for more. “Yes.”
My temperature rises when he angles his wrist. I drop my head back so the tips of my hair brush the top of my buttocks.
And then he bows, lowering his torso and replacing his fingers with a hungry mouth. He combines licks and sweeps of his tongue with sucks, doubling the pleasure when he inserts two fingers at once. And I unravel. My inner walls begin to contract and a tremor shakes through my legs. Shockwaves ripple through my core, and I cry out when he growls into the sensitive spasms. The sound of him vibrates inside me, heightening the rolling waves.
Hot kisses bring me around from my bewilderment. They cover my flushed skin, trailing back up my body until he’s standing before me again. Muscular and wild, every inch of him primed.
Finding my hips, he drags me closer to him so I’m sitting in a better position for him to take me. He hisses when the crown of his dick nudges into me, noticeably shivering when my nails scrape his biceps. As he aligns himself with my entrance, he pins me with a sexy as fuck look of pure unadulterated temptation. Hair tumbles over his forehead with disarray, and he bites his bottom lip before speaking. “I’ve never met a woman like you before, and I never will again.”
I want to reply, to explain how my life won’t ever be the same. Not now that we’ve met, and certainly not when I return to Scotland. I’d like to tell him that his grief will never leave, but I can comfort the pain of his suffering with love. With my love. If that’s what this really is. If time will allow us the opportunity to nurture an infatuation into something more.
As I go to speak, he dips and fuses his mouth to mine. While I’m lost in the warmth of his gentle kisses, he pushes deep inside me, joining us on a higher level.
I kiss him back, matching his hunger. Taking his bristled cheeks in my hands, I groan into his mouth, utterly overwhelmed by the invading thrusts that are ruining me. I angle my hips to increase the pressure, aware of his powerful movements grinding in gently and slowly.
He’s been rough in the past, controlling and commanding, and I secretly loved every second of it. Wanted more of his dirty demands. However, this––his dizzying pace and careful consideration is out-of-this-world.
Dante grunts under his breath, and I feel myself let go. The world around us spins, and my face drops to his shoulder. My teeth graze his hot skin. He buries himself deeper, nudging against my cervix with rhythmic plunges tunneling to my heart. My thighs tighten around his hips. One of his hands secures the base of my spine, welding our bodies together, and the other catches a clump of hair at my nape. He tilts my head and scatters wet kisses along my jugular, biting down gently to give me the edge I’m used to from him.
