by Bella J.
Speculatively, he stared at Layla and me, rubbing his chin with his thumb and forefinger. “I would like to hear Layla’s side to all of this. But I think she’s been through enough for one day.” He got up from his seat. “Get her cleaned up, Dante. We can discuss this further in the morning.” And then he left.
I didn’t stick around either and dragged Layla out of there as quickly as I could. Dad was right. She had been through enough.
“You shouldn’t have done that, Dante. You shouldn’t be defending me.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because I don’t deserve it.”
My temper flared, and I just reacted. With force, I yanked my bedroom door open and hauled both our asses inside before slamming it shut again.
“You need to stop with the bullshit, Layla. You have no fucking idea how deep this shit is.”
She snorted. “I think I kinda do.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
She pulled off her dirty jacket and tossed it on the couch in front of the window. “You think I’m all innocent in this, but I’m not, Dante.”
I walked across the room, closer to her. “Whatever he’s making you do, and whatever reason you have for doing it, I refuse to believe you’re in so goddamn deep that I can’t help you.”
She shook her head. “If only it was that simple, Dante.”
“It is that simple, Layla. Just fucking talk. Say the words, let me in, and let me help you.”
Goddammit. I was fucking desperate. I was at the point where I would plead and beg. The more I looked at her, stared into those painfully familiar eyes which reminded me of what we shared in the past, the more I started to think with my heart instead of my head…and it scared the shit out of me. My heart wasn’t supposed to be invested in this—in her. It took me too fucking long to adjust to a life with broken dreams and a broken heart. And then all it took was one glance, one moment, and I was catapulted back to being the man who would slaughter every fucking human being who stood between me and her.
I grabbed her arms and pulled her closer. “Talk to me, goddammit, Layla. What are you afraid of?”
“You!” she cried as tears flooded down her cheeks. “I’m afraid of you getting hurt, all because I made one stupid goddamn mistake.”
“What mistake?”
Sad, beautiful eyes stared up at me through long, dark lashes. “Leaving you.” She let out a breath. “I never should have left, Dante. I never should—”
I crashed my lips against hers, kissing her as if it would mean death if I didn’t. Her words forced new life into my blackened heart, making me want her more than I needed answers.
I pulled her against me, deepening our kiss. My tongue searched for hers, sweeping through her mouth, reminding me of how much I loved her taste. How I’d longed for it. Craved it.
Her soft moans filled the air between our mouths, her body trembling against mine. The more I kissed her, the stronger my desire for her became. Sweet lips of ecstasy tempted me—seduced me into wanting so much more, leaving me unsated if I didn’t have all of her.
I moved a hand up her shoulder, fingers weaving through her golden blonde hair. I fisted it in my palm, forcing her head back. My lips slipped from hers, lapping down the skin of her neck. More moans echoed from the back of her throat. I could feel her resistance crumble with every passing second my mouth remained on hers.
“Dante,” she whispered against my lips.
With heavy reluctance I pulled away just an inch, closing my eyes from the ache of wanting her, but knowing it wasn’t that simple.
“You should go clean up. I have a few calls to make, then we can talk.”
She bit her bottom lip, and it drove me crazy. My cock was already cursing this caring, pussy-whipped asshole I turned into during the last twenty-four fucking hours.
Layla nodded then walked off to the bathroom. It was only when I heard her close the door that I managed to take a deep breath. For so long I’d hoped that maybe one day she would come back, give me the answers I so desperately wanted. But never under these circumstances. I never wanted her to be caught in the middle of a fucking war between us and the Mancusos. This was exactly the reason I wanted to give it all up, to move on with her and forget about the life I had been primed to live.
But that sure as fuck failed because now we were exactly where I had hoped we would never be. In the middle of a war, torn apart, and alone. Plus, I had my family to worry about now as well. Antonio made no secret of how he felt about Layla. I wasn’t sure on which side of the board my father was, but he had always been unreadable—unpredictable. But I couldn’t chance it. I needed help.
I pulled out my phone and dialed.
“You know that favor you owe me?”
Chapter 13
Layla
I closed the bathroom door and sagged back against it. My heart was racing, my body humming, primed and ready to be taken by the one man who had always owned my heart. God, I was so weak when it came to him, unable to resist the seduction that clung to him like a second skin. My body betrayed me every fucking time I was near him.
With a deep breath, I pushed myself away from the door. It was only when I passed the mirror on my way to the shower that I saw how filthy I looked, patches of dried blood all over my clothes, my skin, my hair. I’d never seen a man die before, let alone be killed with a bullet to the brain. Just thinking about that exact moment made me shudder.
I wiped at a tiny patch of blood at the side of my face. There were dark circles under my eyes, my cheekbones more pronounced than they ever were. My hair was a knotted mess. I was a complete mess. I was wasting away, little by little. This was not how I envisioned my life. And this was not the life I wanted for him. I only wanted to protect him, to let him have the kind of life he deserved. But unfortunately, I was no longer able to do that. Not anymore.
A tear slipped down my cheek, and I wiped it away with the back of my hand. It was the worst kind of torture to make me choose. Matteo was making me choose, and I did. I chose. But I didn’t think it would be this difficult to let the one go while protecting the other.
I missed him. I missed him so much, it hurt. But I needed to make sure he was safe, no matter how much pain I had to endure to ensure it.
I glanced down at the vein in my arm, the burn starting to intensify. It was also Matteo’s doing. His way of guaranteeing my full cooperation, and also ensuring my demise. He wanted to ruin Dante, ruin every member of this family…and I was his weapon of mass destruction.
With a heavy chest and an aching heart, I undressed and stepped into the shower. I had no idea how long I stood there watching the pink streaks of old blood flush down the drain. It might as well had been my own blood washing away since I had no hope of surviving any of this. Not with the burn in my veins, the craving that made me rot from the inside out.
Everything played out exactly the way Matteo wanted it to. I had hoped Dante wouldn’t fall into the trap. That he didn’t care as much about me as Matteo thought. It would have been so much simpler if Dante didn’t have feelings for me. A part of me rejoiced because the man I still loved appeared to still care about me. But my heart was in agony over what I knew would happen while Dante played into every corner Matteo had pushed him, like a goddamn puppet. And there was nothing I could do to stop it.
I stepped out of the shower…and that was when it hit me hard, like a fifty-pound hammer. I collapsed. I was nothing but a puddle of regret, a pathetic sack of bones. I cried. I screamed out in agony, my chest hurting as if it was being cracked wide open.
Secrets. Lies. Deceit. It all came crashing down, and I no longer had the strength to keep standing.
Dante slammed against the door. “Layla? What the fuck is going on?”
I couldn’t answer him. I couldn’t even fucking breathe between the heavy sobs. Tear after tear I cried over all the mistakes I had made. Over mistakes I would be forced to make in the days to come. With my arms clutched around my naked
chest, I rocked back and forth, unable to numb the pain.
The next thing I knew, Dante kicked down the door, rushing toward me.
“Jesus. Layla.” He wrapped a towel around my shivering body before helping me off the floor. “What is going on?”
All I could do was lean into him while burying my face in his chest as I continued to cry. It was when I felt him place his arms around me that his heat slowly started to comfort me. The familiarity of feeling him against me soothed me; it tamed the ache.
“I wish you would tell me what was really going on, Layla.”
“I can’t. I can’t tell you.”
“Why? Why can’t you tell me?”
I pushed him away from me, hating how good it felt to be in his arms. It shouldn’t be that way. It shouldn’t feel good, because loving him would make me lose the biggest part of me in the end.
Harshly, I wiped at the tears on my face. “I fucked up, Dante. Because of me, everyone I love is at risk. I’m the weakest fucking link. Can’t you see that?”
“Layla, how the fuck am I supposed to see or understand anything when you tell me nothing? It’s like solving a fucking Rumpelstiltskin riddle, for Christ’s sake.”
“I can’t…I can’t do this. I have to leave.”
I grabbed my dirty clothes off the floor when Dante grabbed me around my waist. “You are not going anywhere.”
“Let me go!” I kicked and screamed, my desperation to save him and my craving to poison myself taking control of every emotion, every action. “Let me go, Dante!”
I continued to fight, thrashing fists and legs and feet against him until he managed to toss me on the bed. Like a wild animal, I tried to scamper away, but he grabbed my ankle and pulled me while turning me on my back.
I was no match for his strength as he pinned my arms above my head and straddled me. “I told you, you’re going fucking nowhere.”
“I don’t want to be here with you. I can’t.”
“Yes, you can!” His voice roared through the room, the echo slamming against the plastered walls.
“How can you want me here after what I did to you? Why don’t you hate me?”
“I don’t fucking know!”
Immediately, I stopped fighting him, our eyes fixed on one another.
“I don’t know, Layla.” He tightened his grip around my wrists. “Yes, you hurt me. Yes, you ripped my motherfucking heart out. Yes, I’ve never been the same since you left. And yes, I probably should hate you. I should fucking hate you…but I don’t.” He breathed out. “I wish I did. I wish I did hate you because it would have made everything so much easier. But I fucking don’t.” He shifted, his firm thighs keeping me in place. “I don’t hate you, Layla. Goddammit! If anything, I still love you.”
My heart stopped beating. My blood stilled inside my veins. All I heard were his words, his deep breathing. And all I felt was the familiar crackle of electricity around us, the sexually-laden atmosphere that always surrounded us, replacing all the oxygen.
“I still fucking love you.” His grip loosened slightly, his dark gaze never leaving mine. “I still love you, Layla Moore.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. It was like my mind couldn’t make sense of it, so I made a last lame-ass attempt to fight his hold. But he only kept me in place, his chest rapidly rising and falling while his face leaned down closer to mine. “I. Love. You.”
And then the veil of resistance finally tore in two as I lost the last ounce of self-control I had left. I pushed myself up as far as I could, and he met me halfway, our lips crashing together like two dark clouds of thunder. Within a split second we were all hands, and lips, and kisses, and moans. We wanted to devour each other in a single moment, leaving nothing untouched, unexplored. I surrendered fully. He consumed me completely. And we ravished each other wholly…just like it had always been.
Two strong hands palmed my breasts, earning a loud moan from my lips as my body burned from his touch. He squeezed and tugged my nipples, causing me to arch my back, wanting to feel him against me. I needed his heat to thaw the ice that had occupied my heart for so long.
“Tell me this is okay, Layla.” Hard, heady kisses fell from his lips onto the skin of my neck. “Tell me you’re still mine to touch, to kiss.”
My body was nothing but sensation and desire as I wrapped my arms around him, weaving my fingers through his ink black hair. I was transported back in time, reliving all the moments we shared together—moments like this.
With both hands, he pressed my breasts together, his tongue slipping down and licking through the slit of flesh.
“Dante—”
“I need to hear you say you’re still mine. Tell me you’re still mine to make love to.” He looked up at me. “Tell me you’re still mine to fuck.” He took a hard nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirling around it, sucking, lapping, and kissing. “I remember every moment, Layla. I remember how you loved being cherished, worshipped. How you desired to be thoroughly fucked, and utterly used.”
“Fuck, Dante,” I whispered, his words causing a frenzy of lust and need crashing against every corner of my body. I bucked my hips in search of him, the ache between my legs growing stronger with every stroke of his tongue and every touch of his hand. His lips let go of my nipple with a pop, and when he looked back up at me, his hand slipped in between us. “Say it, Layla.” And then he touched me, his fingers sliding through the sensitive folds of my pussy, sending the most intense wave of lust up my spine, my entire body electrified.
“Jesus, Layla,” he moaned. “Your body is begging to be fucked.”
“Dante…” I started to plead.
“Say it first. Tell me you’re mine.”
Deep down, I knew I never stopped being his in the first place. Not a day went by that I didn’t think of him, of us, of how my heart still belonged to him. It was the worst kind of torture knowing he was out there in the world, building a life without me.
“Say it, Layla.”
“I’m yours.” The words escaped my lips with a breath. “I’m yours, Dante. I’ve always been yours.”
A finger slipped inside me, and I moved my hips, wanting it deeper, harder. His thumb moved over my clit, and I gasped as pleasure spread through me like wildfire.
“I’ll make love to you until you come.” He pushed his finger inside me again. “And then I’m going to fuck you until I do.”
I dug my nails into the skin of his back. There was nothing I wanted more at that moment. I forced aside every thought, every inhibition that would keep me from surrendering. Truth was, all I wanted to do was surrender my everything to the man I had always loved. I wanted him so badly, it hurt. My insides were coiled tight with anticipation, my body primed for seduction and pleasure. All I wanted, all I needed…was him.
I moaned when his finger slipped out of me, only to softly move down my thigh, hooking his hand under my knee to jerk my leg up, spreading me wide open for him to see.
“Don’t move.”
He got up, and I watched with untainted desire as he removed his clothes. He was much bigger than I remembered. There were tattoos inked across his skin, barbed wire wrapping around muscular arms, a huge tribal circle inked over the place where his heart was.
Ripped abs were roped across his abdomen, the V that disappeared beneath his pants more prominent than when we were first together. Just looking at him had me writhing on the sheets, needing him on top of me, and inside me.
He dropped his pants to the floor, standing naked in front of me, his hard cock demanding my attention, causing everything inside me to tighten.
“Right here, right now, there’s no one but me and you.” He eased onto the bed. “Right here, right now, it’s only us and our desire for each other.” His gaze moved across my naked body, pausing between my legs. “Right here, right now, all I’m going to do is reclaim what’s rightfully mine. You, your body…your pussy.”
I couldn’t speak. My mind was a jumbled mess of naked bodies,
ecstasy, and pleasure. All I could do was watch him, look at him while he crouched and dragged his tongue all the way up my inner thigh until…fuck me…his tongue glided over my outer lips. I grabbed the sheets in my fists and moaned, struggling to contain the pleasure, struggling to stay in control.
“God, I missed this. I missed tasting you on my tongue.” With his fingers, he spread my lips open, the tip of his tongue teasing my clit until my body started to shudder. The pleasure it shot all the way through my body was so intense, it was almost painful.
“Don’t come. Not yet,” he ordered before dragging his tongue all the way from my clit down to my opening and back up again. “I want you to come around my cock, but I need to get my fill of your taste first.”
“Dante, please.”
“Shhhh.” The sound vibrated against my sensitive flesh, and I squirmed, feeling as if the pleasure had the strength to break me in half. He didn’t speed up. He didn’t lick or suck any harder. It was like he savored my taste, dragging out every second of it by slowly driving me insane with his lips and tongue.
“If you don’t put your cock inside me right now, I’ll be coming on your tongue.”
A low, guttural moan came from the back of his throat. “God, I missed that dirty mouth of yours.”
As he moved up, he wrapped his hand around my knee, bringing it up with him, pressing it between us.
I felt the head of his cock nudge against my entrance, my eyes fluttering closed as my body braced itself, waiting to be filled.
Dante stilled. “Don’t you dare close your eyes, Layla. I want you to look at me as I claim you. I want you to see me when I possess every part of your body.”
And then he pushed forward, entering me with one slow, deep thrust.
“Oh, God,” I cried, my back arching off the bed.
Slowly, he pulled out again, before sinking back in. “Jesus. How is it possible that you feel even better than I remember?”
My nails raked down his back, and I closed my eyes only for a second.
“I told you to look at me,” he demanded and thrust forward, the head of his cock reaching the deepest part of me. The more he moved inside me, allowing me to feel every inch of him sliding against my inner walls, the more my body squirmed in its pursuit of sexual delight. Moans slipped from my lips, my mind nothing but scattered thoughts of carnal desire and indulgent sins. With every thrust, Dante reminded me who I belonged to—who owned me. Him. It had always been him.