Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

ALYSSA

H is fucking kiss is everything and more. His full lips move against mine, and each swipe of his tongue against mine nearly makes me lose my rhythm that I ride him with. I could stop fucking him and solely kiss him for the rest of the night. I don’t know if it’s because he held back from kissing me for so long or because he means more than anyone before him.

No strings sounds like a great idea until I think about walking away from this.

“I don’t kiss,” he breathes when I moan and break away from his lips.

Now I have guilt swarming me. I was mad at him for pushing me past my boundaries, and I did the same thing by kissing him. Part of me knew he didn’t kiss, too. Deep down.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him, rubbing my nose over his cheek as he groans and grips my hips, thrusting in time with me from below.

“Dante,” I whimper.

“Minaccia,” he answers.

I nip his lower lip. “Stop with that.”

He flips us, thrusting into me so powerfully that a guttural grunt that’s very unbecoming spills from my throat. “I’ll stop when you stop being a fucking menace.”

I grin as he fucks me with a brutal pace, his hand moving between us to rub my clit.

“Oh God.” My revelation has him smiling, pride welling on his features.

He leans down, cocking a leg up to fuck me deeper, closer.

The world becomes a dull shade around us, compared to us, and I’m crying out more than breathing, and dizzying by the second.

His lips skim my ear, parting to taunt me. “Come for me, minaccia. So that I can come all over those perfect tits.”

His words, while crass, have me wild to heed his demands. I want to see him stroking himself over me, looking down at me when he comes.

Having the attention of a powerful man makes me feel powerful. The taste of power is addictive. It drives men wild with greed and makes women chase men they should steer clear of.

Power makes people crazy.

The way Dante Ricci fucks proves that fact to me.

“Dante!” I cry as I shatter around him.

He lasts a few more thrusts before scrambling over me on the bed, straddling my chest as he jacks his dick in his hand.

The heated look in his eyes as he looks down at me fills me with a false sense of safety when it should do the opposite.

He’s dangerous to a woman like me. He makes me vulnerable.

“Fuck, minaccia!” His cum covers me in thick ropes, warm on contact as I arch into him. Like a muse posing to be painted.

When he’s done, and we’ve both steadied our breathing, he gets a warm cloth and cleans us both off, hovering over me as he cleans my breasts with a look in his eyes that says a lot is going on in his mind.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I was spewing all that about my boundaries and stepped over one of yours. I didn’t think about it at the moment. I took what I wanted and didn’t consider you, Dante. I apologize.”

He’s taken aback but says nothing as he tosses the rag into the laundry basket and returns to bed beside me.

It’s time for me to exit, but I don’t. The tension in the room is so thick and burning that it has me rooted to the bed like a hostage.

I don’t want to leave and be perceived as being callous.

“I want to kiss you, Alyssa. I wouldn’t have kissed you back if I didn’t. If left to my own devices, I would’ve waited longer. But I want your kiss,” he says.

“Then, why did you say…”

He sighs, and it has my heart in my throat.

“I haven’t kissed anyone since my wife died.”

His admission cracks my soul and sinks my heart to my toes. I roll onto my side and into him, splaying my hand on his chest in comfort.

The soft, dark hair there tickles my palm as I work my nails over his skin absently—something I don’t often do, but yet, I’m comfortable doing it with him.

“Dante, I’m so sorry to hear that. I’m sorry for your loss.”

He stares at the ceiling, nodding. “Thank you. It’s been years, but it doesn’t seem like it. It feels so fresh.”

“I’ve heard grief can be that way. It’s because of how we bank memories of people, I think. She’s still alive in your head; she’s a part of you, so it’s hard to fathom that she’s gone.”

“That’s exactly it. I can’t fathom a world where she doesn’t exist, even if I know she no longer exists. I was there when they tossed dirt on her coffin. I was the last one there. I didn’t want to leave her there.”

God, this poor man!

Tears fall from my eyes, and I let them. I can’t even begin to comprehend what he’d gone through. Sure, I have childhood trauma, but who doesn’t?

This beautiful, loving man lost so much. I wrap around him in silent strength. I don’t say any more because there isn’t anything else to say.

There aren’t words to make it better.

“What was her name?” I ask him.

“Anna.” His voice cracks as if he hasn’t had the strength to utter her name aloud for some time.

Silence stretches around us, and we let it.

“We don’t need to kiss, Dante. Those can be reserved for her. I didn’t mean to overshadow her or step over that line… I didn’t know,” I stammer, my chest burning.

He rolls on his side, lifts my leg over his hip, and wraps an arm around me. “You misunderstand me. I want to kiss you, Alyssa. You’re the first one I’ve wanted to kiss since her. Since Anna. I was only telling you…” He sighs. “I needed you to know the importance of the kiss.”

I nod. “I know now.”

He leans his forehead against mine. “Please, stay. I know it’s not what you do, and it’s not what you want to do. I said we can be no strings, and I mean it, I do, it’s just…”

I lean forward, kissing his lips to silence him. The kiss is quick and soft but does the trick.

“I understand. I’ll stay.”

I turn over, letting him curl around me from behind.

It’s not long, wrapped in his arms, that I drift off.

But my eyes fly wide when he leans over and whispers, “Thank you, bella ragazza.” — beautiful girl.

Those two words I know, and I snuggle back into him with a grin as I feel sleep come for me.

He needed me to stay tonight after being so raw and open about Anna. And while it feels good to sleep safely in his arms, I know it can’t become a habit.

Because I’m still a fucked-up girl who doesn’t want to settle down, especially not with a man in the Italian mafia.

Stretching my legs out in the bed, I realize how hot it is. It’s not the room, though. It’s me, my body. I try to toss the covers off but can’t find them with my hands.

Groaning as an ache takes up in my lower belly, I open my eyes. My begrudging glare looks down my body and runs over why I’m blistering hot.

Dante Ricci is perched between my thighs, his sinful tongue twirling over my clit like he’s getting me ready to be his breakfast.

“Dante,” I breathe.

All at once, the night comes slamming back to me in images and feelings.

The way he told me about Anna. How he kissed me after not kissing anyone for years. How I stayed.

It’s what earned me the wake-up call I hadn’t ordered. I won’t turn it away, though.

He was right. His tongue is magical. I realize this as I reach down and grab his hair. It feels like, at any moment, I’m going to float away, but gripping onto him would keep me here.

Keep me in reality with him.

I stayed, and this is my payment? I should stay more often.

Even as the thought surfaces, I know it’s inaccurate. No one is Dante Ricci. Only the man himself can cause the storm he’s creating right now. This feeling, this ache, is something specific to Dante and me.

Unfortunately.

He adds fingers inside me, and I let all that fall away. We agreed to no strings, even if last night felt much more profound than we meant.

Sweat beads on my body, goosebumps churning within it. The more he teases with his tongue and presses inside me with his fingers, the more enraptured I am.

Shamelessly, I let my legs fall open and rock my hips, deepening his kiss on my pussy.

“Please,” I mutter, eyes growing frantic as the impending orgasm builds higher and higher, into a burn I can’t turn away from, only jump inside of.

“Don’t stop, Dante. God, don’t fucking stop!” As I come, Dante sucks my clit, causing me to scream through each shocking wave of climax like a woman gone.

Gone from reality. Gone from her old way of thinking.

Dante is knocking at the wall I have built around my heart and his tongue nearly serenades me to open the gates to let him in.

He crawls up my body, kissing me and making me taste myself.

“Good morning,” he tells me, pulling back and licking his lips.

I push my hands into my sleep-tousled hair. “Good morning?! Is that how you say good morning?”

He shrugs and gets off the bed, heading for the bathroom. “You’d have to stick around to find out.”

Part of me deflates at his words.

Because they mean that he’s not been earnest with me.

Even though he said we could be friends with benefits, no strings attached, he is still playing the long game and hoping that I’ll come around and become something akin to what Slate and Brynne have.

That won’t suit.

I hear the shower turn on and the glass door close, and I slip out of bed and gather my clothes, making for my room quickly.

When I get inside, I shut and lock the door, breathing out in relief as my heart and body fight.

I’ve never had some of the feelings and experiences I’ve already had with Dante, but I’ve also been firm in how I want to live my life with him and everyone else.

He doesn’t seem too keen on adhering to no strings as I initially thought he would.

All that means is this can’t go on between him and me.

I have to break free of Dante Ricci’s grasp, which will be difficult considering that in about an hour, we’re assisting in the merger of the Ricci and Bianchi families.

Our standings in each family mean we must be around one another often and work together.

This was a bad idea.

Once showered and dressed to impress, make-up done, and hair in a half-up, half-down updo, I slip into my heels and grab my work bag and phone.

I forgo breakfast because this morning left my stomach uneasy, so I decided to just grab a muffin and a coffee on the way to the meeting.

Dante, as if he senses the shift in my demeanor, puts on his best face and holds the door for me as we lock up and leave.

Lorenzo is waiting downstairs in a blacked-out Suburban, and he and Dante fall into easy chatter while I stare out the window at the immense and alluring streets of New York City as we pass things I’ve only ever seen on television.

I’m so lost in my head about what to do about Dante. I don’t even realize we’re there until Dante touches my leg softly with his hand to rouse me from my stupor.

“We’re here, minaccia.”

Back to menace. Great.