Forever Dante: Lucia (The Dante Dynasty Series: Book #11): The Dante Inferno

by Day Leclaire

  They pulled up in front of his house and, after paying the driver, Ty swept her into his arms and carried her over the threshold. Once inside with the door bolted behind them, he kissed her, a distinct melding of physical and emotional and spiritual. It was as though neither could get enough of the other.

  Even when they resurfaced, it took a moment before he could speak. “Did you notice the priest didn’t say I could kiss the bride?”

  Lucia seemed to have a similar problem forming coherent words. “I think he was so rattled by Primo, he forgot about half the ceremony.”

  “I did notice a certain lack. He skipped right over the ‘promise to obey’ part.”

  She gave a delicate snort. “Good thing, since I’d have changed the wording.”

  He brows pulled together. “Is that legal?”

  “I’m not even sure our marriage was legal. Did you give the priest the license? Did Gabe and Primo sign as witnesses?”

  “Shit!”

  She grimaced. “Yeah, that should have been done. Then Father Benito has to send it in. I think there’s some sort of time limit.”

  “I’ll get it to him in the morning.”

  “So, Primo is right? Our marriage didn’t take?”

  He drew a deep breath and blew it out. “Right now, all that matters is whether Nonna believed it.”

  Safe within his hold, Lucia tilted her head back and smiled up at him. “Thank you for being so sweet to her. I loved what you said.”

  “Honey, I meant every word,” he said in all seriousness. “If our marriage helps her fight to get better, I couldn’t ask for a better wedding gift.”

  She blinked away tears. “And Primo?”

  “Count on it, we will get to the bottom of everything tomorrow.”

  Lucia’s brows pulled together. “Primo didn’t mention my attending the meeting, just you. I’m coming, too?”

  His mouth tightened. “You’re definitely coming, too.”

  “You realize I have nothing to wear? Again.” She glanced down at her clothes and sighed. “Honestly, I can’t remember the last time I wore one of my own outfits.”

  “The Wrangler was towed. I doubt anyone thought to grab our stuff out of there beforehand.”

  “That’s it,” she announced, thoroughly exasperated. “We’ll just have to go naked from now on. It’ll be easier, don’t you think?”

  “Infinitely.” He found the side zip on her ruined wedding dress and lowered it. “Starting now.”

  The bodice dropped away and Lucia stepped free of the pool of dirt-streaked cream silk. Beneath she wore a pair of panties, a garter, and stockings. Of course, the stockings were ripped beyond recognition and Ty sucked in his breath at the sight of her skinned knees.

  She peered down at them and winced. “Haven’t had knees this bad since I was six and fell off my bike.”

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s all my fault. I wasn’t gentle when I yanked you out of the Wrangler and threw you on the ground.”

  She stepped into his arms and gave him a hug. “I don’t think either of us were worried about gentle right at that moment. I think our main focus was on staying alive.”

  “True.” He lifted her chin and planted a kiss on the tip of her nose. “Would you prefer a shower or a bath?”

  “You have a bathtub?” she demanded, beyond thrilled.

  “Sure.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “A big one?”

  “A garden tub.”

  “A big one. Score!” She danced in place, then grabbed his hand and tugged. “Come on Tarzan, let’s see how you handle bubbles.”

  “I didn’t say I had bubbles, just a garden tub.”

  Her face fell and he laughed. “I have bubbles.”

  That stopped her for a moment. “You have bubbles. You?”

  “Hey, even Tarzan can enjoy the occasional bubble bath.”

  She eyed him closely, attempting to ascertain whether or not he was serious. “Nah. You’re yanking my chain.”

  He grinned. “I’m yanking your chain. I’ve never taken a bubble bath in my life.” He waited a beat before adding, “But I do have bubbles.”

  She could think of just one explanation for that. A previous relationship. She released a drawn-out sigh. “Should I ask?”

  “No.”

  “How long did it last?”

  “Not long and far too long.”

  Hmm. Good answer. “Should I feel weird using her bubbles?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know why you would. She didn’t buy them. I did. Granted, she asked me to, but the relationship ended before any bubbling took place.”

  “In that case, let’s go.”

  He swept her into his arms. Again. Should she tell him how much she loved his going all Tarzan on her? How much she appreciated his strength and the endless bulge of muscles? Not to mention, how protected she felt. After today, he’d officially become her real-life hero.

  She rested her head against his shoulder, reveling in the strong, urgent beat of his heart and the ease with which he moved. He walked through a second bedroom, almost as large as the master, and into the attached, private bathroom. The tub took up an entire corner and featured a leaded glass window. Lights glittered through the thick colored panes. Fortunately, the fact that she couldn’t see out, insured no one on the outside could see in.

  He sat on the broad lip of the tub and started up the water, dumping a mound of the foaming bath salts under the sleek waterfall pouring from the faucet. Purple bubbles erupted, filling the room with the scent of lavender.

  She scooped up a handful of bubbles and sniffed. “Perfect. Lavender helps you sleep.”

  He instantly frowned. “I don’t want to sleep. I want to make love to my wife.”

  Oops. “Lavender also gives you a hard-on a horse would envy and the endurance of a bull,” she immediately lied.

  “You know far more about the sexual exploits of the animal kingdom than I do.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Should I be concerned?”

  “Only if a horse or bull joins us in the tub.”

  “I’ll lock the door.”

  He set her on her feet and stripped away the remnants of her stockings, her garter, and finally her panties. She stood between his legs, feeling ever so slightly vulnerable, although she couldn’t quite pinpoint why.

  Then it struck her.

  “What do you suppose Primo meant when he said our marriage wouldn’t take?”

  “Another issue we’ll resolve when we see him tomorrow.”

  He stood, towering over her, and calmly undressed, tossing his wedding clothes onto the floor with careless disregard. Considering how ripped they were, she doubted they could be repaired. No point in worrying about a few wrinkles at this stage.

  Naked, he stepped into the tub and helped her climb in. He sat and she slowly inched her way into the water, hissing when the soap suds licked across her various scrapes and cuts.

  He gave her a sympathetic look. “Stings?”

  “I don’t think I realized how much until right now. And I’m so sore. I think my bruises have bruises.” She spared him an annoyed grimace. “Why aren’t you moaning and groaning?”

  “I’m Tarzan, remember? Tarzan doesn’t moan, let alone groan.”

  “Just points and grunts?”

  “You got it.”

  He pointed to a spot in front of him and grunted. Pulling her down, he tucked her in front of him. She promptly sank beneath a mound of bubbles. With a chuckle he helped her resurface and settled her on his lap.

  “I forget how tiny you are.”

  “I’m not tiny. I actually have way too many curves for a woman my size.”

  He snorted. “You realize there isn’t a male in existence who believes that, right?”

  “Wait one darn minute.” She smacked the surface of the water, bubbles exploding around them. “Do I understand correctly that men like big breasts on a woman? Why has this been kept a secret?”

  “Big breasts, nice round ass, and hi
ps I can get a good grip on while we—”

  She fought to suppress a laugh. “Yes, I get the picture, thank you.”

  He sobered. “Is that something else your ex gave you a hard time about?”

  She closed her eyes and leaned back against him. “Yeah.”

  “You do realize there was something seriously wrong with him, right?”

  She nodded. “I realize it now more than ever. That is one messed up family.”

  “Tell me that there aren’t any more Benedicts.”

  “A mother and a sister. I’d worry about the sister except her two brothers spent their entire lives terrorizing her. I don’t think she’ll come gunning for me. She fell off the radar right before I divorced Andrew. Her mother said she planned to change her name and disappear.”

  “Sounds like she’s the smart one in the family.”

  She swiveled around to face him, curling up against his bulk. “Let’s not talk about them. Not tonight of all nights.”

  He hesitated a moment, then asked, “You want to talk about why Primo said our marriage wouldn’t take?”

  She shook her head. “I thought I did. I’ve changed my mind.”

  A slow, sensuous smile built across his handsome face. “What do you want to talk about?”

  “I want to make sure you don’t regret our marriage.”

  “His comment rattled you.” He didn’t phrase it as a question.

  She nodded. “I’ve worked for my grandfather for a year now. I’ve gotten to know him really well. He’s not someone who speaks without thinking. And what he does say, he means.”

  “Then we’ll just have to prove him wrong, won’t we?”

  She took a deep breath and leveled him with an urgent, assessing gaze. “Is that what you want? To prove him wrong?”

  “Don’t you?”

  She settled the palms of her hands against his chest, The Inferno singing through her. She shivered in reaction, wondering how she’d possibly handle it if their marriage didn’t “take.” She couldn’t. It was that simple.

  “You know what I’m asking, Ty. If it weren’t for Nonna we wouldn’t have married so quickly. I mean, we’ve only known each other for days. The speed of our marriage . . . Well, quite frankly, it’s crazy.”

  He took the observation in stride. “I can’t argue with that. And, I have to be honest, I keep expecting to wake up and want out.”

  “You did after our first date,” she dared to mention.

  He nodded. “For good reason.”

  She flipped her hand over so the odd tattoo faced upward. “I don’t disagree.” She traced the lovely swirl she’d come to treasure, perhaps because it emblemized The Inferno. “None of this makes the least bit of sense.”

  “And yet, here we sit in a tub full of bubbles,” he teased. “Married. After only knowing each other a handful of days.”

  Lucia sighed. “I have it on good authority that’s par for the course with The Inferno.”

  Ty ran his thumb across the mark decorating her palm, smiling at her helpless shiver. “He recognized this mark.”

  “I know.” Her brows drew together. “Do you suppose that’s why he was so upset?”

  Ty tilted his head to one side in consideration, taking his time before answering. “I had the impression the mark surprised him, but it didn’t upset him. It’s the ring that upset him.”

  Lucia gazed at the lovely confection of gold and diamonds decorating her hand. It was absolutely beautiful. And somehow familiar. Now that she really looked at it, very familiar. Where had she seen it before?

  A memory teased at her. Before she could make the connection, Ty hooked her chin and lifted her face to his. “Enough. We’ve allowed far too many ghosts to haunt us today. Let’s end this evening with just the two of us.”

  She snuggled close. “And some pizza.”

  “And some pizza. But first . . .”

  He lifted her slightly, opening her to him. She moaned softly, swiveling her hips so she straddled his impressive erection, slowly easing down onto it. It speared into her, filling her. Stretching her. Scraping inward and hitting the perfect spot.

  “Just like that,” she whispered.

  He thrust upward just as she rocked downward and pleasure ripped through her. He wrapped her tight against him, moving slow and cautiously, water swirling around them. The bubbles teased her skin, bursting in little arousing explosions.

  Ty moved faster. Harder. The water sloshed, threatening to spill over the rim of the tub and onto the tile floor. “Come on, sweetheart. You’re in control. Take me where you want to go.”

  Her breasts slid across his chest with every movement, piling sensation on top of sensation. It wasn’t enough. She needed more. As though picking up on her thoughts, he slid his hands into her hair and lifted her face to his. His mouth closed over hers, hard and demanding, devouring her with urgent sweeps of his tongue. He caught her lower lip between his teeth and tugged.

  Grabbing her hips, he helped her move, pistoning faster, driving into her. It was too much. Too much raw emotion. Too many confusing events stacked one on the other in a haphazard jumble. With a cry, she tumbled. His hoarse shout joined hers, echoing around the bathroom. Gasping for breath, she collapsed against him.

  Neither of them moved for several long minutes. “I never knew hurt and satisfaction could go together like that,” she murmured.

  His laughter rumbled against her ear. “Has the warm water helped at all?”

  “I don’t know. Find my body and ask it.”

  He peered over the edge of the tub. “We soaked the bathroom floor.”

  “The maid will clean it up.”

  “We have a maid?” For some reason that made her laugh. Bizarrely, it sounded a lot like tears. Ty must have thought the same. “Shh. It’s okay. Everything is going to work out, I promise.”

  “You promised me pizza,” she wept. “Why aren’t I eating pizza?”

  He pushed her hair away from her face. “Are you crying because you’re hungry? Or are you sad? Or has everything that’s happened today finally hit?”

  “Yes,” she managed to get out around a sob.

  “Got it.” He grunted, a hint of pain running through the sound. Apparently, he hadn’t escaped without a number of bruises, either. “Up we go.”

  Lucia slipped her way to her feet and they climbed out of the tub, dripping water and bubbles all over the bathmat. Ty crossed to a linen closet and pulled out a stack of towels. Half of them he flung onto the floor. The other half he flung over the two of them.

  “What do you say we order that pizza?”

  She sniffed. “Okay. What kind?”

  “Hell, woman. There’s only one kind of pizza.”

  She sighed. So like Gabe. “Pepperoni it is.”

  “Thank God.” He shot her a stern look. “For a minute there, I was afraid Primo was right.”

  Laughter replaced her tears. “You’d divorce me over pizza?”

  “Hell, yes, I’d divorce you over pizza.” He eyed her with open suspicion. “If you have any similar issues, maybe you’d better get them into the open now. Anything I need to do or not do, eat or not eat, say or not say?”

  She considered. “Don’t lie to me. The only good anchovy is a dead one, well blended into a Cesar salad dressing, otherwise I don’t want to see or smell it.” She hesitated, not certain she should admit this next part.

  “Spill it, sweetcakes.”

  “You’re going to have to rethink the whole sweetcakes thing.” She darted a nervous glance upward. “Other than that, when you’re ready and when it’s right and when you’re sure, I wouldn’t mind hearing the L word.”

  “Got it.”

  “But not until you’re sure and it’s real.”

  “Fair enough. Ditto.”

  Her mouth trembled into a smile at another Ghost reference. It was the perfect thing to say. “Food.”

  “I’m on it.”

  Since she didn’t have anything to wear, she scu
rried to his bedroom—their bedroom now—and raided his closet. She frowned, rifling through the shirts neatly hanging there. Did the man own any color other than black? She squinted. Okay, navy, though she didn’t think that counted as a different color. Maybe she should introduce him to the concept of a color wheel. Or did that fall into the same category as a Hawaiian pizza? Choosing a black shirt, she climbed into it, not the least surprised to discover it hung to her knees.

  After swiping Ty’s comb, Lucia crossed to the living room, spotting him by the liquor cabinet. Instantly, his head swiveled in her direction. The drink he’d been pouring overflowed the tumbler and he swore, fumbling with both decanter and glass. “Hey, don’t do that to me.”

  She blinked in confusion. “I’m sorry? Do what?”

  He made an up and down gesture. “You know. Look like that.”

  She glanced down at herself and buried a smile, warmth flooding through her. Apparently, he liked how she looked in his shirt. Or maybe he liked what she had under it, which was nothing.

  “Should I take it off?” she asked in mock innocence.

  “Would you?”

  A laugh bubbled free. “No. At least, not now.”

  Heat flared in his black gaze. “In that case, I look forward to later.”

  “I’m beginning to think I married an insatiable man.”

  He crossed the room and offered her a drink. “The real question is, did I marry an insatiable woman?”

  “If you’d asked me that when we first met, I’d have said no. I’ve never wanted anyone before, not the way I want you.” She shrugged helplessly. “I don’t understand.”

  “You don’t need to understand it.” He clinked his glass against hers. “Per cent’anni!”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Literally, for a hundred years. But the toast is actually saying, may we live for a hundred years.”

  “That’s lovely.”

  “So are you.” He gestured toward the couch. “Pizza is on its way. We have a nice, blazing fire going. We each have a drink. Let’s just relax.”

  Last time she’d been here, they’d sat on opposite ends of the cushioned length. This time, they curled up like two halves of a whole. Held safe within his arms, she’d never felt so snug and warm. “Thank you,” she murmured. “This is perfect.”