Page 136 of The Wrong Man
“Then let me ask a different question.” His hands are still on my face, holding me like I’m something precious. “Is it real now?”
“Yes.” The word comes out fierce, desperate. “Yes, it’s real. I love you, Dante. I love you so much it terrifies me.”
“Then that’s all that matters.” He pulls me into his arms, and I go, collapsing against his chest like my strings have been cut. “The beginning doesn’t define us. What matters is what’s true now. And what’s true now is that I love you, and you love me, and nothing you did while fighting to survive is going to change that.”
I break down completely. Cling to him and cry until I have nothing left. All the guilt, all the shame, all the fear of being found out and rejected. It pours out of me, soaking into his shirt, and he just holds me through it. Steady and solid and there.
“I thought you’d hate me,” I manage eventually, my voice wrecked.
“I could never hate you.” He presses a kiss to my hair. “I hate myself for what I did to you. The torture. The captivity. Every moment of pain I caused. I should be begging for forgiveness, not you.”
“You already have my forgiveness. You’ve had it for a while now.”
“Then let me give you the same grace.” He pulls back to look at me, his hands still cradling my face. “We’re here now, together, choosing each other. That’s what matters. That’s the only thing that matters.”
Something breaks open in my chest. Not the painful kind of breaking. The kind that lets the light in.
“I love you,” I say, and my voice is steadier now. “I love you so much. And it’s real. It’s so real.”
“I know.” His almost-smile softens into something genuine. “I’ve always known.”
I kiss him. Desperate at first, then slower, deeper. Tasting salt and relief and something that feels like absolution.
“I love you,” I say again against his mouth, because I can, because he’s letting me, because against all odds he’s still here.
“I love you too.” He pulls me closer. “Now stop crying and let me show you.”
He pulls me all the way onto his lap, so I’m straddling him.
My arms wrap around his neck, and he kisses me thoroughly. Deeply. So deeply that I can taste his love for me.
My heart begins to beat with it. Taking up a new rhythm. I can’t be sure, but I like to think my heart has synced with Dante’s and now we are in tandem.
Dante truly has forgiven me. As if forgiving me and loving me is as easy as breathing. He didn’t even hesitate. This man always surprises me and never lets me down.
His strong hands settle on my ass cheeks. Heat burning through the thin material of my pajama trousers.
Suddenly, I’m yelping as the world moves.
Dante has stood up. While holding me. My legs have instinctively wrapped around his waist. He’s still kissing me. Kissing me so intensely that it’s hard to think.
We are moving now. Toward the bedroom. It’s a grand idea. One of the best ideas Dante has ever had. It’s also one of the most swoon-worthy things I have ever experienced.
I can’t wait to tell Teagan that Dante carried me to the bedroom. Easily. As if I weigh nothing.
Now he is laying me gently on the bed. Placing me down with so much tenderness that there is a very real chance I might combust from hotness. I’m not made for such levels of sexiness, I’m really not.
Dante’s demanding lips pull away from me. I blink in confusion. My thoughts are all muzzy. I think he has melted my brain.
I blink again. His nimble fingers are undoing the buttons of my pajama top. A patch of my too-pale skin is now bared. Dante lowers his head and brushes his lips over the newly freed spot.
I moan and my eyes roll back. Sweet baby Jesus, this man is going to be the death of me.
Slowly, carefully, methodically, Dante undresses me, kissing each part of me that the removed cloth reveals. As if he is trying to kiss every single one of my freckles.
Eventually I’m naked. And harder than I’ve ever been in my life. I feel worshipped and adored, and it’s the headiest of aphrodisiacs.
Dante’s dark head lowers. He presses a gentle kiss to the tip of my dick. A barely-there brush of lips.
