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I'm not exactly inexperienced, but it's been a long time since I've done anything like this. Years have passed since a fire last erupted in my gut, spread through my body, and settled between my legs. I don't even touch myself anymore, too afraid Grant will burst into my makeshift room and discover me.
All that suppression falls away, flooding my senses with everything that is this man. Dante's hand slides into my hair, gripping the strands and angling my head to deepen the kiss. I give in to the sensations he awakens. If this is the only moment I have from now until I meet my end, it'll be enough. I'll convince myself it will be enough.
I may not fully trust him, but he's the only person who's treated me like this—like I'm human. If I pushed him away, he'd let me go. Sighing, I melt a little more into him, and his hand cups my cheek. Everything hits me at once and a tear slips free. He leans back and I mourn the loss, my chin quivering with the weight of my emotions.
His thumb brushes away the tear just as another one tracks down my cheek. The concern splashed across his face is almost too much and I try to pull away, but he holds me close.
"I'm sorry," he breathes, resting his forehead against mine.
"No, I'm..." I gasp, scolding myself for losing it. "It's not you. I mean, it is, but it's not. I'm sorry. We'll just pretend this didn't happen."
Leaning back, he scans my face, probably searching for answers I can't give him. When I turn away, he grips my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze.
"Tell me what's wrong," he demands, and I shake my head. "Please."
The gentleness in his voice is too much and I lose it. Crushing my face to his chest, I break down. His arms surround me, holding me close. I wonder for what feels like the millionth time if he's regretting his decision to ask me for help. If I were him, I'd be running for the hills. Any other man would be begging for the chance to get rid of a weepy woman who can't even tell him why they're soaking his shirt with her tears.
I suck in a deep breath, searching for my dignity somewhere around our feet. It's disappeared, probably washed away by my tears.
"You should talk to Rachel," I murmur, tugging from his grasp and keeping my head tucked to my chest.
He guides my gaze back to his and I tip my chin up.
"Why is that?"
"She won't fall apart in your arms just because you kissed her."
"Except I wouldn't be kissing her," he says gently, causing my breath to hitch.
"Well, she could help you more."
He sighs, wiping the wetness from my cheeks, and I let him, even though I should pull away. The more comfort I find in his arms, the harder it will be when it's gone.
"Aelia," he sighs, eyes falling closed. "When was the last time someone took care of you?"
I shake my head, eyes filling again. "When I was sixteen."
"Who?"
I can't talk about Roman. I won't open that door, especially for someone who might drop me the first chance he gets. I swallow hard, realizing how unfair I'm being. Dante has done nothing but protect me as best he can, given the current situation. I still can't tell him, though. I shake my head again and he nods, understanding swimming in his eyes.
"I won't kiss you again." His hands drop from my face and an ache forms in my chest. "Unless you ask."
Thirteen
Dante
Clouds gather overhead, threatening to dump more rain on the city. I lean against the window of a blacked-out SUV, hoping the deluge holds off a little longer. I shouldn't even be here scouting Viper territory. If someone recognizes me, my cover within the Guild might be blown, and that will leave Aelia vulnerable. They'll kill her and I can't live with that, especially if it's my fault.
"Sir, it's nine p.m. Would you like to go home before the club?" the driver asks, eyeing me in the rearview mirror.
"No. I'd rather not be late."
I glance once more at the tattered flag stamped with a rearing snake that hangs from a nearby fence. The fabric whips up as wind gusts through the streets, and I sigh. I haven't been able to contact anyone.
Maddox better be keeping his shit together or I'm going to have a mess to clean up after I deal with the Guild. MacKenzie wasn't exactly happy when we left Synd. I suspect that had more to do with Ryker Helms than me, though.
As we pull away from my territory, I wonder if I should have told them more. Informing them I was taking care of something and would be back in two weeks wasn't exactly smart. My sister can hold her own, but I still worry. I can't turn it off.
