Mine: Forever After (Forever After Novella Series Book 1)

by Natasha Thomas

  “Thank you, Leon,” I murmur, following Tate out the doors.

  “I’ll be stationed out in the hall over there,” Leon points at a chair that’s been set up for him just outside my room. “If you need anything, call me immediately. I get that this isn’t in my job description, but I used to be a Green Beret, and I take the safety of the people under my care seriously.”

  Placing my hand on his arm, I attempt what I hope is a grateful smile.

  “I’m so glad you made my short list, Leon. I don’t know what we’d do without you right now.” Leon winks at me and takes up his place sitting sentry outside my door without another word.

  Dante and I don’t linger in the hall long. Instead, he drags me into the suite and slams the door, engaging the deadbolt.

  “You and I have a few things to discuss, gorgeous. At the top of that list is why you didn’t tell me you were getting death threats.”

  The answer to his question is a double edged sword. If I tell Dante the truth, it will piss him off even more, and if I don’t, he will only keeping pushing until I do. Dante’s stubborn like that.

  Before I have a chance to make my decision, Dante grips my wrist and spins me so that my back is pinned up against the wall. The length of his hard, toned body is pressed to my front, towering over me as he looks down at me through hooded eyes.

  “Do you know what I would have felt if you were hurt, baby? Can you even begin to imagine what I would have done if one hair on your beautiful head was harmed?” Shaking his head insistently, he groans, “No. No, you don’t have the first fucking clue.”

  “Dante,” I whisper, pleading with him to stop and hear me out.

  “Shut it, baby. Just shut the fuck up and listen to me for a minute. I should have told you this a long fucking time ago. I should have manned up, set aside my fear that our friendship would suffer, and made you understand how I feel. It sucks that it’s had to come to this to get me to wake the fuck up and pull my head out of my ass, but it is what it is. I can’t change the past, but I can sure as hell change the course of our relationship in the future,” he ends on a growl.

  Grinding his hips into mine, I feel the long, thick bulge of Dante’s erection against my belly. I’ve spent so many nights envisaging us like this. Just like this. Dante hard, hot, and wanting, and me desperate for him in a way I can’t begin to put into words.

  He threads his fingers through mine, using his thumb to rub small circles on the inside of my wrists before raising them above our heads and holding them there. I realize that in this position, I am completely at Dante’s mercy. He can do and say whatever he wants, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.

  Every fiber of my being is on high alert. The fine hairs on my arms stand on end, a shiver starts at the base of my spine as the intensity grows with each passing moment. Being trapped by Dante, caged in by his massive, powerful body proves what I spent countless hours trying to dissuade myself of; Dante is my ‘one.’ The man I was meant to end up with. The man who has, and forever would own my heart.

  There has always been a connection, something volatile, intangible, electric between Dante and I. At first, I was naïve and believed with time it would fade, that whatever sparks we had would disappear. I convinced myself that everything I felt was one-sided, that Dante didn’t feel the same way about me.

  Sure, I saw him pay more attention to me on occasion. There were times where I watched as his eyes widened almost imperceptibly as he took in what I was wearing or not when we went swimming together. However, as quickly as his interest flared, it was gone. Dante easily slid back into his usual charming, funny, friendly persona, and more than once I had to ask myself if I had imagined the whole thing.

  Now, not so much. Now, I know what I thought I saw wasn’t a figment of my imagination, but very real indeed. Dante is staring at me like he has found his reason for breathing, and I can’t deny the way my heart races at the mere thought of what he’s going to say next.

  Letting go of one of my hands, Dante runs his index finger gently from my temple to the hollow at the base of my throat, only stopping briefly to play with the pendant nestled there.

  “Thought you said you’d never wear this again. After what happened at the guest house, you tore it off and threw it at me; told me what it symbolized was broken just like your heart. I spent hours looking for it, but in the end, I had to give up.”

  The necklace Dante’s referring to is one he gave me for my thirteenth birthday, He saved for months to buy it for me, and it made me feel like a princess when he gave it to me, fastening it around my neck. Dante made me promise never to take it off, that it was a symbol of our friendship and how he felt about me, and of course, as a thirteen-year-old girl, madly in love with her best friend, I readily agreed.

  To anyone else, it isn’t anything special but to me, it was the most amazing thing I had ever seen. Truthfully, it still is. Simple, yet perfect the thin gold chain has a delicate clasp at the back, and in the middle is two shooting stars forged to one another.

  Dante said it reminded him of us. Two people who had fantastical dreams that were destined to shine. And for a time, I believed him wholeheartedly. That was until I didn’t. Until I thought the boy I put my faith and trust in had changed so much, my soul couldn’t recognize his anymore.

  It wasn’t just the fight with Cole, which is what I led everyone to believe. Although, that was certainly the catalyst for everything changing between us. But honestly, it was Dante’s ambition, determination, and desire to succeed. He was going to be one of the stars on my necklace. He was going to shine. But sadly I’d realized over the months leading up to us graduating, that he couldn’t do that with me holding him back.

  “What are you thinking, gorgeous?” Dante asks, breaking into a barrage of memories I never wanted to relive.

  This is it. This is the moment of truth. Do I tell Dante why our story has to end, or do I lie and selfishly take what I know he will offer me, knowing that nothing can ever come of it?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ~ Dante ~

  “Tell me what’s going on in that beautiful head of yours, baby,” I repeat myself, urging Faye to open up to me.

  The conflict in her eyes that she’s trying and failing to hide isn’t lost on me. I’ve become adept at reading every nuance of her expression from afar over the years, but up close it’s different. She’s different.

  Sorrow and regret aren't something I anticipated from her, yet looking into her stunning gold-rimmed hazel eyes, those are the most visceral of the many emotions displayed there. And that terrifies me.

  When I fantasized about telling Faye I love her, that I’ve been in love with her for as long as I can remember, I didn’t for a second imagine she’d look at me like this. In my dreams, Faye would smile, throw herself into my arms, and profess her undying love for me.

  “I’m sorry, Dante. So, so very sorry,” she whispers. While her voice may be quiet, almost timid even, the tone of her words is a bullet to my already fractured heart.

  If this is where Faye tells me she doesn’t love me, I’m going to have to take drastic measures because I refuse to let her go again. I didn’t fight for her the first time she pushed me away, Young and stupid, I foolishly thought she’d change her mind and come back to me. I was wrong then, and I’m not risking a repeat of the years I’ve lived in limbo without her.

  Steeling myself against rejection, I tell her,

  “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, baby. If anyone is owed an apology here, it’s you.” Faye fervently shakes her head, no, but I don’t stop. I can’t. “I’m sorrier than you’ll ever know for scaring you that day. But most of all, I’m so fucking sorry it’s taken me so long to tell you that. I planned on giving you a few days to cool off before coming to apologize, but your dad said you refused to see me.”

  “Dante, please,” Faye’s voice breaks.

  “Shh,” I console her as the first tears fall.

  Giving her more of my wei
ght, I breathe in her unique scent – bitter chocolate and spice with a hint of something sweet – and kiss the top of her head tenderly. It’s rare these days that I get to touch her at all, let alone hold her, so I intend to memorize every second of this in case it’s the last time I get to do it.

  “Now, you want to tell me why you’re so upset? We’ll circle back around to the rest of the shit we have to talk about later.”

  “Not particularly, but you’re not going to let this go, are you?” She sniffs.

  “Not a chance,” I confirm, backing off so that I can take her hand and lead her to the couch. Pulling her down onto my lap, I instruct, “Talk to me, baby. Whatever it is, I’m a big boy, I can take it.”

  Faye averts her eyes, but opens her mouth and lets the words flow. Horrible, painful words. Words that tear me apart inside, and at the same time, put me back together again, giving me something I haven’t had forever when it comes to her. Hope.

  “Do you remember the Christmas your parents bought you your very first drum set?” She asks. At my nod, Faye smiles. “Me too. I saw the way your eyes lit up, the way your hands shook as if you couldn’t contain yourself any longer. Even as a seven-year-old kid, you had so much energy, so much passion for the unknown. Everything was an adventure to you. It didn’t matter if it was scary or dangerous, if you were on your own or with a big group of us, you were always the first one to jump in with both feet, consequences be damned.”

  I’ll admit, she’s not wrong. All my life, I’ve lived wild and free. My mom says I was born with an adventurous spirit that refused to be tied down. I’m at my happiest when I’m trying new things, seeing different places, and experiencing everything life has to offer. But I don’t see what that has to do with Faye and me.

  “The first time you picked up a set of sticks and began banging away with no idea what you were doing, I knew you’d found a piece of yourself that you weren’t old enough to know was missing. It wasn’t just me, though, Dante. Everyone saw it. Collectively we knew you were destined for amazing things. I never found that. Or not the way you did, anyway,” Faye sighs.

  “Found what, gorgeous?” I frown.

  “My passion. That one thing that makes me feel alive, free.”

  Rubbing my cheek across her temple, I kiss her nose.

  “You mightn’t have found it the way I did, but you definitely found your niche, baby. You’re a tiger in the boardroom, and you’ve taken My Addiction further than we’d ever have gone on our own. You’re magnificent to watch when you’re working, Faye,” I assure her, meaning every word.

  Heat floods her cheeks at my admission, and Faye ducks her head attempting to hide her embarrassment.

  “I know I’m good at what I do. And most days, it’s a bonus that I enjoy it too, but it isn’t the same thing, and you know it. Being able to negotiate a better deal with a venue or secure merchandise at a lower price isn’t my life’s ambition, either.”

  “What makes you feel alive then, baby? You said you’d found it, just not the way I found the drums,” I push.

  “You,” Faye answers almost inaudibly. “You make me feel alive. But, Dante, that’s not enough anymore. Me hanging on and coming along for the ride as you and the guys make huge successes out of yourselves isn’t right. And it’s not something that’s sustainable long-term.”

  “Say again,” I demand.

  My blood boils at hearing her describe it like that. If Faye thinks for a fucking second that she hasn’t earned her spot with the band, I’m here to disabuse her of that stupid notion.

  “It’s true, Dante,” she murmurs sadly. “I’ve never felt more alive and free than when I with you, but at the same time, I feel as if I’m losing myself. You are a force to be reckoned with; a man with a huge personality with even bigger dreams, and a heart of gold that would do anything for anyone. Me included. And you have. You’ve made sure I have a place here with you, Cole, Dylan, and Tate, but I’m beginning to see that all this is temporary. It’s a stepping off point before I find what genuinely makes me happy, what fulfills me, and makes me whole.”

  “Jesus, baby,” I hiss. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were leaving. Not just the band, but me.”

  Fuck, I hope I’m wrong here. I hope I’ve misconstrued what Faye’s trying to tell me, but I fear that’s wishful thinking.

  “I am,” she states simply, and in doing so extricates herself from my arms.

  Putting a few feet of space between us, Faye looks at me with her heart in her eyes. I can see the love she has for me; I can feel it coming off her in waves. Her body tells me one thing – that she wants and needs me – but the words coming from her pretty pink lips say another.

  I know which one I’m going to believe, which one I’ll trust. And hopefully, my instincts don’t fail me now because I have a feeling this is the biggest risk I’ll ever take.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ~ Faye ~

  Getting the words out was hard. Terribly hard. I don’t think Dante understands it hurt me just as much to say them as it hurt him to hear them. This decision – the one to leave the band after I’ve found them a replacement manager – didn’t come easy. It was something I gave a lot of thought, but in the end, for me, knew that I had to do.

  Backing away from him, Dante closes the distance between us in three large strides and shocks the hell out of me but covering my mouth with his. He runs his tongue over my lips, probing, nipping, demanding entry, and I let him. I let him in, opening my mouth for what turns out to be an all-out assault.

  Teeth, tongues, lips, Dante uses everything in his arsenal to make my head spin and shows me what it feels like to finally be kissed the way I’ve dreamed about for so long. Dante is giving me my first real kiss, the one I had been saving just for him.

  Needing to touch him, I wrap both of them behind his neck and thread my hands into his hair. Pulling out the leather band keeping his ponytail in place, I tug on the strands, drawing Dante closer.

  I want to feel him, even if it is only once. I want his warm skin on mine, his mouth exploring parts of my body only I have touched. But most of all, I want his thick, impossibly hard cock buried deep inside me.

  With flexibility I didn’t know I have, I climb his body like a tree and wrap both of my legs around Dante’s hips. His large calloused hands, from years of playing the drums, grab hold of my ass, erasing what little space was left between us.

  The hot, hard, pulsing length of Dante’s cock rides up and down the seam of my jeans, making my pussy ache to feel him filling me. But when he rotates his hips, grinding his erection against my core, the ache turns into desperation which has me panting, wet, and hungry for him.

  In the back of my mind, I know I should probably be worried about having sex for the first time. Anxiety about whether the pain will be excruciating, if I’ll be any good at it, or if Dante will even like what he sees when he gets me naked and beneath him should have me freaking the hell out. However, I’m strangely calm about the whole thing. The reason for which is because this is Dante we’re talking about, and I know for a fact he would never hurt me.

  Regardless of the fact that sex is a relatively new concept to me – at least, physically; Dante is the first man I’ve allowed to touch me intimately, after all – I don’t know what to expect after the deed is done. Do I stay and cuddle with him afterward, or do I get dressed and leave? Does taking this step with him make me his girlfriend, or just another one of many women lucky enough to find themselves sharing his bed for the night?

  However, during the deeply passionate kisses that leave me breathless, the reverent touches that make me shudder, and the heated looks Dante gives me while he’s discovering my body one slow inch at a time it’s infinitely harder to shake the feeling that this is different. That what we’re about to do means as much to Dante as it does to me, if not more.

  And Dante proves me right when he tears his mouth from mine, stares into my eyes, and walks us with slow, measured steps to the bed.


  “You don’t know how happy it makes me, knowing that you saved yourself for me, do you?” He asks, his voice filled with love and adoration as he lowers me gently onto the mattress.

  “We’ll take it slow this time, Faye. I can’t promise you it will always be like this; that’s just not the kind of guy I am. But just this once, I’m going to go against everything that’s screaming at me to fuck you so hard you can’t walk straight, and let you dictate how this is going to play out.”

  Now that scares me. Dante telling me that I’m in charge isn’t what I’d expected from a man like him. A man that likes control and power in all things. My hope was that he would lead, and I would follow. That Dante would show me what it feels like to be thoroughly loved by a man who knows what he wants and has no qualms in demanding it from his partner.