Page 39 of Depraved
“Take off your shirt,” I direct, tilting my head and biting my lip.
He reaches over his shoulder and drags the T-shirt off his body, smirking as he does, and tosses it onto the chair next to him.
Fuck, he really is gorgeous. My eyes take in all the colorful swirls and patterns on his hard chest and arms. His body alone is intimidating, but it’s the accessory to his intention. That’s what really makes him the man he is.
“You like what you see,” he states, appreciating the compliment my eyes are giving him.
“I was just thinking that tattoos make good men look dangerous.”
His head lifts as his thumb skims across his lip. “I am fucking dangerous. So, what do they make me?”
“Authentic?” I grin, as he nods, letting out a half laugh.
His eyes lock with mine, and it’s as if everything fades away around us. All the pretense and sarcasm, all the bullshit. It’s just me and him, both wanting the same damn thing from each other.
Dante licks his bottom lip, and I watch his tongue glide across, wishing I felt that on my body.
“You gonna look at me all day, Billy…or are we gonna fuck?” The roughness in his voice hits just the right button.
I uncross my legs, letting one slide away from the desk, and leave my legs spread apart. “Why don’t you make good on your threat from earlier and stop wasting my time with all this foreplay.”
I swear it’s admiration I see in his eyes before he does exactly what he promised.
ISWEARICAN STILLtaste her on my lips, like fucking honey. My tongue darts out past the seam of my lips when the thought passes through my mind as I relax into my seat in the back of the SUV. The car switches lanes through traffic as I pull my phone out and dial Sarah.
She’s displeased that I left her behind today—at least that’s what I gathered when she told me to “go take a stroll in heavy traffic.” But bringing her with me wasn’t an option.
The call goes to voicemail after a few rings, making me crack my neck, trying to relieve my irritation at being ignored.
I hit Matteo’s information, since he’s her designated babysitter, or at least the only one she doesn’t try to stab or punch.
“Hey, boss,” he answers on the first ring.
“Give her the phone.”
The line is silent as I assume he’s handing it over to her.
“Dante,” she answers in her sexy little rasp, as if she expected my call.
I laugh silently, picturing her expression. “Why aren’t you answering your phone?”
“Because it’s off.” She half laughs.
I can’t help but join in. “You’re fucking terrible, you know that?”
But she’s crawled under my skin. She’s stubborn and unreasonable. She’s fucking infuriating and seems to find joy in making my blood boil.
And I like it.
“Go get it, Billy.”
She cuts me off quickly before I finish. “Jesus Christ, Dante. Fine. Is that all? What do you want? Are you calling to tell me all about the outside world…just to rub it in?”
“You’re safer in the house. The end,” I grit out, unwilling to fucking talk about this.
“Bullshit,” she spits. “You just don’t want me to tell everyone what a tyrant you are.”
I laugh loudly at her accusation. She’s never seen my worst, and I hope she never has to because this girl is quickly becoming one of my favorite people.
