by K. Street
I don’t answer him. I don’t know what to say.
“Tess, stop hiding. Just talk to me.”
“I’ll be out in a minute.” I wait for the shadow cast by his feet to disappear from beneath the door, and when it doesn’t, I add, “I promise.”
Finally, he retreats, and I take a few calming breaths to collect myself. We’re friends. That’s all this is between us. It’s all it can be…no matter how much my body screams otherwise.
When I open the door, he’s leaning against the back of the couch, which faces the guest bathroom. I take a few steps forward, and when he starts toward me, I stop moving and hold up a hand.
“Whatever that was, Dante, it can’t happen again.”
He folds his arms across his chest, his eyes boring holes into me. “Why?”
“It was a mistake.” It sounds weak, even to my own ears.
“A mistake?” he asks the question as though he didn’t hear me right.
“Yes,” I say, not looking at him.
“Why was it a mistake, Tessa? Look at me,” he demands. When my eyes meet his, he says, “Explain it to me.”
“Because.”
“Because?” He rakes a hand through his hair, tugging at it. “Because isn’t an answer.”
It doesn’t matter how much I want him. Or how many times I’ve fantasized about him. “Because he was your brother. And it’s wrong.”
“Says who?” He closes the space between us.
“I don’t know.” It’s too soon. “Everyone.”
“Everyone?” He smirks. Then, his eyes grow dark, and his voice drops low. “There’s only one opinion I care about, and it’s yours. Tess—”
“Dante, please,” I cut him off, scared of what might come out of his mouth.
“Please what?”
“Right now, I need you to be my friend. I can’t handle anything more.”
The look on my face must convince him because he draws me into a hug. My arms go around his waist, and I return his embrace. Something stirs in the hollow walls of my chest where my heart used to beat.
“Okay,” he says. Then, he drops his mouth to my ear and whispers, “But, whenever you’re ready, all you have to do is jump. I promise, I’ll catch you.” He plants a kiss on my forehead. “I want you, Tessa, but I won’t push you.”
I tightly squeeze him and feel the tension leave his body.
“Now, how about I get dessert, and you pick the movie?”
He releases me and goes into the kitchen while I rummage through our choices. I pluck a gem from the otherwise lackluster movie collection.
Dante returns with two forks and the small container of tiramisu. “I’m going to make us some coffee.”
“Okay,” I answer, turning on the television and putting the movie in.
A few minutes later, he comes back with two cups, offering me the one several shades lighter than his. “What did you pick?”
The heat from the cup warms my hands as I lift it to my lips and take a sip, tasting the creamy vanilla sweetness. For half a second, time stands still. Dante takes his coffee black, yet he bought coffee creamer for me. And not some random kind either. It’s such a small thing, but somehow, it feels monumental.
“Tessa? Everything okay?”
His voice draws my attention.
“Huh?”
“You’re staring into your coffee like you’re trying to see the future. I thought people used tea leaves for that shit.” With a grin, he sets his cup down and opens our dessert.
I place the mug on the table and take one of the forks, pointing the tines at him. “You’re such a smart-ass.”
He raises an eyebrow. “What are we watching?”
“You’ll see,” I tell him.
Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock appear on the TV. I turn to look at him, and he smiles. Certainly, he wasn’t expecting a chick flick.
We settle in beside each other, sharing the tiramisu, and watch the movie.
When it becomes impossible to keep my eyes open, I lay my head against his shoulder. I know I should leave. Listen to the warning bells sounding in my head. For whatever reason, I can’t force my feet to move. And, when he slips his arm around me and kisses the top of my head, I snuggle into his touch.
I can’t move, and I’m too warm. I shift, trying to free myself, and I freeze when I feel something very big and extremely hard poking my bottom.
Oh my God. Is that…
My eyes pop open when I’m suddenly aware of what exactly that is.
“Wiggling your ass like that is only making it worse,” he says, voice deep and rough with sleep.
Mortified, I try to scramble out of his arms, but his hold tightens.
“Tess, relax. It’s not a big deal. Okay?”
He’s wrong. It is massive.
“Okay,” I agree.
Because we’re two friends, fully clothed, who just happened to fall asleep while watching a movie. On the couch. In each other’s arms. Of course, the tangling of limbs occurred after loss of consciousness.
Shit. This is awkward.
“I need to use the bathroom.”
He releases me, and I untangle my legs from his to stand.
I use the bathroom in the master, so I can borrow Dante’s toothpaste. When I come out, he is sitting up, hair sticking in all directions, and he’s rubbing the back of his neck. Sleeping on that thing all night couldn’t have been comfortable for him.
I bend slightly over the back of the sofa. “Let me help.”
He drops his hand, and I place mine on either shoulder. Pressing into his muscles with the heels of my hands, I massage away the tightness. Deliberately, I work my way to his neck and the base of his skull, using my fingers in a circular motion to ease the crick. He groans, leaning into my touch.
After several minutes, I ask, “Better?”
“Yes. Thank you.” He stands and turns to face me. He looks like he wants to say something but then seems to change his mind with a slight shake of his head. “Coffee?”
“That’d be great.”
I grab our discarded dessert container and dirty coffee cups, and then I follow him into the kitchen. I tidy up last night’s mess while he makes the coffee, neither one of us acknowledging the building sexual tension.
“Here,” he says from behind me. He sets the coffee on the counter.
He’s so close. Caging me in. I can feel the heat from his body. If I turn around—
My phone blares from the living room, and I jump out of my skin.
“I should grab that.”
Dante moves his arm, and I go to retrieve my phone.
“Hey, Mama.”
“Tessa, why don’t you and Dante come join your father and me for breakfast?” my mother says in my ear. She’s entirely too chipper this early in the morning.
“I’ll be home in a few, but let me ask Dante.” I hold my phone against my chest to muffle the sound. “Mama wants to know if you want to have breakfast with us.”
A grin spreads across his face. “I’d love to.”
Moving the phone back to my ear, I say, “We’ll be there.”
“Good.” Then, I overhear my mom say, “See, Bill? I told you they were up.”
“Be there soon, Mama,” I say, hanging up the phone.
Dante stands there, smirking at me.
“All right,” I say, walking back into the kitchen. “I’m taking my coffee, and I’m going to go shower at home. I’ll see you in a little bit,” I call out as I make a beeline to the front door, thankful for the brief walk home to reel in my libido.
twenty-four
Dante
“I’m so thrilled you could join us, Dante,” Maggie says as I enter the kitchen. She dries her hands on a dish towel before coming over to hug me.
“Mags, let the boy breathe.” Bill laughs.
“That’s enough out of you,” she jokes and frees me from her hold.
Tessa picks that moment to walk into the kitchen. She’s wearing a T-shi
rt, her face is free of makeup, and her damp hair is swept up in a ponytail. She bends to kiss her dad on the cheek, giving me a view of her ass. The yoga pants cling to her curves as though they were made for her.
“Need any help, Mama?”
“I’m fine, baby,” Maggie says.
“Baby bear, do you mind making your old man a cup of coffee?” Bill winks at Tessa.
“Sure, Daddy.” Tessa’s eyes find mine for the first time. “Want a cup?”
“I can get it.” I don’t want her to think she needs to wait on me.
“I don’t mind.” She smiles and then says, “Go on, and sit down.”
Before long, the table is overflowing with French toast, bacon, and fresh fruit. Maggie says grace, and we dig in. Tessa blushes when Maggie tells tales from her childhood, but her smile never falters. She looks lighter than I’ve seen her in a long time. Even before Trevor died.
After breakfast, Tessa sends her parents to the front porch to relax while we clean the kitchen. “Dante?”
I glance up from the bowl I’m drying to find her staring into the dishwater, deep in thought. “What?”
“Do you know who she is?”
It takes a second for me to realize whom she is talking about. Her question came out of nowhere. But, from the expression on her face, I can tell it’s something she’s been thinking about.
“Yes. She’s the daughter of a client.”
“Oh,” she says, as if it makes perfect sense. “What’s her name? It must’ve been on the DNA test…”
“Why are you doing this to yourself?” I set the dish aside and face her. “Why are you thinking about this?”
“I just want to understand why I wasn’t enough. When did I stop being enough?”
Fuck this shit.
“Look at me.” When she makes no move to raise her eyes, I grip her chin. “Tessa, look at me,” I say dropping my voice lower.
Finally, her eyes settle on mine.
“You are enough. You’re so much more than enough. If my brother was too stupid to see what he had right in front of him, then that is on him.”
She tries to turn her head away, but I’m not having it.
I cup her cheeks, forcing her to look at me. “You’re breathtaking. You’re smart, funny, sweet, and so fucking sexy that it takes every bit of self-control I possess not to strip you down and show you just how enough you are.”
Her eyes turn glassy, and if I don’t leave, I’ll cross the line.
“I’ve got stuff to do at the house. I’ll see you later.” I drop my hands from her face and walk out, making sure to thank her parents for breakfast when I leave.
I couldn’t stand in her parents’ kitchen a second longer. Because, if I did, I’d have laid Tessa out on the table, spread her legs, and buried myself inside her. She’s everything. I’ve never bowed to anyone in my life, but I’d happily drop to my knees for her.
When I get home, the file is sitting on the table where I left it the night before. I have too many questions and not enough answers about Trevor’s former mistress. From the outside, Kyndal might be pretty, but I don’t trust her.
I spread out the information before me and click the folder for Montgomery Industries on my laptop. Then, I open a search window and type in the company site. Kyndal’s name is absent. Something is off. She’s worked for her father for years and suddenly there’s no mention of her anywhere on the website.
I spend hours poring over the files. It feels like I’m trying to find a needle in a haystack. Kyndal seems to have vanished. Shuffling the papers back together, I close the folder and go make myself a sandwich before calling it a night.
As I’m passing by the window on my way to the bedroom, the motion sensor lights outside come on. I walk over to peer out and notice Tessa standing on the porch.
twenty-five
Tessa
It’s been several hours since breakfast, and I can still feel the phantom touch of Dante’s warm hands on my face. His words echo in my ears.
“…it takes every bit of self-control I possess not to strip you down and show you just how enough you are.”
The thought of him stripping me bare causes desire to ripple over my skin. I crave the forbidden fruit. Raw and hungry and needy to the point that picturing Dante while I bring myself to climax isn’t going to assuage the ache. Tonight, I need more. I need him.
Shoving my feet into my shoes, I creep quietly down the stairs, knowing exactly where to step to avoid the creak of the floorboards—a sort of muscle memory that stems from spending my entire childhood in the same house. I slip out the door and into the night, using the light from the streetlamps to guide me. There are at least a hundred reasons this is a bad idea, but I choose to ignore them all until I’m standing on Dante’s porch. Before I can backtrack, the motion detector comes on, making my presence known and leaving me like a deer caught in headlights.
Dante stands in the open doorway, wearing only a pair of basketball shorts slung low on his hips. My eyes travel slowly down his body to the trail of hair at his belly button. Then, lower to where it disappears beneath his waistband. My gaze drifts back to his face, and wordlessly, I step closer. And closer until I’m standing right in front of him. The moonlight reflects in his eyes, making his dark orbs seem endless. A warm breeze kicks up and blows hair into my face.
Dante raises his hand to tuck the wayward strands behind my ear, and then he drags the pad of his thumb across my lip. “What are you doing here, Tessa?”
“I-I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.” He dips his head, and our mouths are a fraction apart. “Tessa,” he whispers before ghosting his lips across mine. Featherlight, more caress than a kiss.
Pulling away, he holds out his hand, silently inviting me in, and I willingly accept.
He closes the door behind us and backs me against it, planting his palms on either side of me. “I’ll give you whatever you need, but I can’t do that unless you tell me what it is.”
I take a deep breath. “Show me I’m enough.” Vulnerable and exposed, I wait for his reaction. I see the questions in his eyes. The ones I can’t answer.
Dante angles my head, and this time, when he kisses me, it’s not light or delicate. It’s deeper. Hungry. Searching.
When he breaks away, he asks me the one question I can answer, “Are you sure?”
“I don’t want to worry about what will happen when the sun comes up. I want this more than anything.”
Dante takes me by the hand and leads me into the bedroom. I’m certain he can hear the hammering of my heart that grows louder with every step. Moonlight fills the space, giving it a soft ambient glow, the perfect backdrop for a man reminiscent of a Greek god.
“I want to touch you,” I confess.
He takes my hand and places it on his chest. I trace the outline of his chiseled abdominal muscles with my index finger.
“I want you to touch me.” My voice is breathy, lecherous, and unrecognizable.
Dante shifts my hair to the side and drops his mouth to the sensual spot where my neck and shoulder meet. His touch, the scruff of his beard against my skin—it’s the best kind of sensory overload. My breath catches, and I forget to exhale.
As if he can read my thoughts, he says, “Breathe, Tessa.”
Dante’s hands travel to the hem of my shirt. As he gathers the material, his knuckles skate over my bare skin, sending shivers up my spine. I watch him sink to his knees, hands going to the button of my jeans. Leisurely, he unfastens them and slides them off my hips. His dark hair tickles my stomach. I can’t resist the urge to run my fingers through it while Dante trails the tip of his tongue from one hip to the other.
“Mmm,” I moan, relishing the heat of his touch.
The tip of his nose skims my pussy. “You smell so fucking good,” he says, inhaling deeply. “I can’t wait to taste you.”
“Yes, please.”
“Patience.” He laughs and rises to his feet.
My l
ips part for him, and our tongues twist like partners in a dance of desire. Dante unfastens my bra and drags the straps down my arms, letting the material fall to the floor. God, the way he looks at me, it’s like he’s been waiting a lifetime for this moment, and he wants to commit every inch of my body to memory.
“You’re so damn beautiful, Tessa,” he says, bending to kiss me.
He walks us backward, laying me down on the bed, hovering over me, and I place my hands on his biceps.
“If you change your mind, I’ll stop,” he assures me.
“I want this, Dante.”
Those three words seem to untether something inside him. He kisses me again before slipping lower to drag his tongue in the valley between my breasts. Drawing one pebbled nipple into his mouth, he swirls his tongue over it and then nips the sensitive flesh, his teeth causing me to buck beneath him.
“That feels so good,” I tell him. And, God, do I mean it.
His lips twist in a smirk against my skin.
Dante treats my other nipple to the same sweet torture. Languidly, his lips work their way down my body, kissing until they halt at the edge of my thong. Every cell in my body hammers in anticipation, and I raise my head to look at him.
“I need to taste you,” he says, ridding me of the lacy barrier.
“Yes.” The single syllable comes out like a breathy plea.
Spreading my legs wide, he starts at my ankle and kisses his way up. His bristly whiskers scratch my inner thigh, and I squirm against his mouth.
“Please,” I beg, unashamed.
“We have all night, Tess. I’ll take care of you, I promise. But there’s no way in hell I’m rushing this.” His beard grazes over my bare pussy before he kisses his way down the opposite leg.
Heat pools in my core. The hard ridges of his muscles flex, and his steely cock presses against me through the sleek material of his basketball shorts.
He pins my arms above my head. “Keep your hands up here. If you move them again, I’ll tie you to the headboard.”
His words turn me on, and I lick my lips. He notices and grins.
“I’ll keep that in mind, but I told you, I’ll take care of you. Tonight, your pleasure belongs to me.” He drops a chaste kiss to my mouth and then resumes his position between my legs.