"I have a safe-deposit box. I've had all my military records put in there by my attorney. Your name is on it as well as mine. I'll give you the key and you can go look at everything."
"My name? What is my name doing on there?"
"You're the only person in my life that I trusted, Anna. If something happened to me when I was...out there, I needed to have someone listed to have access to the documents that proved I existed. If I die, there are instructions that the key to the safe-deposit box go to you. My attorney has your information and knows to contact you in the event of my death. My birth certificate is in there, my military documents, everything I've done--at least the stuff I can talk about. And money. A lot of money."
She collapsed onto the sofa, stunned by this revelation. "Why me?"
"Because you're all I ever thought about during all those years. Every night I was doing shit duty with nothing but a rifle, the sand and the stars, and all I could think about was you. Every assignment I got sent on when I thought I might not come back, you were the last thought in my head. I knew if something happened to me, I wanted word to get to you that I hadn't just disappeared and made nothing of my life. I wanted someone to know--I wanted you to know that maybe I had done something that mattered."
She saw the pain in his eyes, the tight set to his jaw, knew what it cost this proud man to admit that he needed someone to care about him.
She stood and went to him, pressed her body against his. "Thank you."
He didn't respond, didn't wrap his arms around her. Usually she was the one taut with tension. This time it was he who stood rigid and unmoving.
"Thank you," she said again.
He didn't budge. "For what?"
"For believing in me. For caring about me all these years."
"I've cared about you my whole life, Anna. I did a shitty job of showing it, I ran when I shouldn't have, but I never once stopped thinking about you or caring about what happened to you."
Tears filled her eyes and she almost broke, not sure she deserved a man who gave more than she could possibly give back. But she knew she had to try to show him the kind of love he needed.
She rose on her toes, cupped his face in her hands and pressed her lips to his, feeling shaken to the core.
She heard the growl low in his throat. His arm snaked around her and he jerked her fully against him. His lips met hers as his hand wound into her hair, holding her head in place as he devastated her with his kiss. His hand roamed down her back to grab her ass and he squeezed possessively, whether to warn her off or bring her closer, she didn't know.
Probably to warn her he wasn't going to accept her backing away, that she'd better be in it until the end, or walk away now.
She didn't want to walk away. She'd made her decision and she wanted Dante.
She knew what being intimate with Dante was going to cost her, what he was going to ask of her. It would be nothing like what she was used to. He'd bare her to the core, strip down her emotions and make her reveal her feelings, everything she tried hard to keep bottled up inside.
The thought of it made her feel naked.
With Dante, she couldn't keep anything locked up. Not when he slid his hands up her body, cupped her face between them and brushed his lips across hers, his tongue flicking out to tease and entice. She shuddered in a breath, her nipples tight, aching points against the silk of her bra.
She burned for him, needed him more tonight than she ever had before. His confession had scraped raw her need for him. She'd always thought herself damaged, but hadn't realized how damaged he'd been by his past, how much he needed to be healed.
They were a matched set. Two screwed-up souls who gravitated toward each other like magnets.
"You need me," she whispered when he trailed his lips down her jaw to her neck.
He raised his head, his half-lidded gaze so intense it made her shiver with delight that it was directed at her. So much power in that look. A lesser woman might be afraid of all that desire.
A few days ago, she might have been afraid. Not anymore. Now she craved it.
"I do need you. And you need me, too." He reached for the hem of her tank top and lifted the shirt over her head, tossing it to the ground. She followed suit, sliding her hands under his shirt, feeling the searing heat of his skin as her hands traveled upward toward his chest. He grabbed his shirt and pulled it over his head, throwing it on the floor near her tank top. He skimmed his fingers up her arms, then across her chest, circling the heart-shaped scar.
She held her breath when he bent and traced the scar with his tongue.
She'd always hated that scar, hated that she couldn't get rid of it, that it would always remind her of that horrible event in the alley twelve years ago.
Dante lifted his head and traced the scar again with his thumb. Now, the scar throbbed, but in a different way as her nipples tightened with need and an ache for Dante that grew more powerful every time they were together.
"This scar doesn't define you. It's part of you. Part of the beauty of who you are."
She released the breath she'd held. She'd always thought it ugly. Only Dante could make her hideous scar turn to something beautiful as he bent and licked it again, then the seam of her bra, pulling the cups down to capture a nipple in his mouth to suck. Bursts of pleasure made her back bow as she pushed her breast farther into his mouth until she thought she'd die from the exquisite sensation.
When he pulled away she was out of breath.
He found the front clasp of her bra and unhooked it, pulling the straps down her arms and adding that garment to the fast-growing pile of clothes on the floor.
His gaze roamed over her, her nipples pebbling under his inspection. His erection made her throat go dry, made her feel like a teenager again--uncertain and shy.
"We've never been naked together," she said, then cleared her throat because she could barely get the words out.
"That's going to change tonight."
He undid the button on his jeans, then the zipper, and dropped his pants. He'd gone commando. Somehow that didn't surprise her at all. It also made her want to unleash a little feminine growl, because he was magnificent. Everything she'd imagined about him hadn't been adequate. He was built and muscled and thick and pulsing and while her throat was dry, other parts of her definitely were not. Just looking at him dampened her, made her swell and throb and want. He made her body come alive in a sexual way like no man who'd come before him. The way he looked at her had a lot to do with that--like a predatory beast whose patience had run out, who needed to mate and mate now. What woman wouldn't be primed and ready when a man like Dante looked at her that way?
She licked her lips, realizing it was all for her.
He dropped to his knees and drew her cotton shorts and panties over her hips and down her legs, tossing them to the side, then lightly grasped her ankles, slowly lifting his hands upward, over her calves, her knees, then her thighs, spreading them apart.
When he raised his head to look into her eyes, her legs began to shake.
"You are so beautiful, Anna." He pressed a kiss to each of her thighs. "And you smell wild and sweet. Right here."
He pressed a kiss to her sex, his tongue darting out to circle her clit. She placed her hand on his head, grabbed a handful of his hair and gasped as he took a long, slow lick. She lost her balance and all sense of awareness as he pleasured her with his mouth.
"Dante." His name fell from her lips as the only coherent thought in her head.
He moved his hands behind her to cup her buttocks, to hold her solidly, to bring her toward his mouth. She held on tight, afraid she was pulling on his hair because it was just so damn good, but she couldn't stop. She was lost in the sensations, lost in this unbearable intimacy as he took her right to the edge and made her hover there.
"You're teasing me," she whispered, watching him. She couldn't not watch him. It was the only control she had left.
He lifted his gaze to hers and she swore his eyes
were smiling at her.
A devilish, wicked smile.
He swept his tongue across her, dipped inside her, and she was lost. Her climax hit with a resounding force, and she tilted her head back and simply let go. Dante held tight to her while she rocked against him, so incredibly, wildly free, so uncharacteristic of her that she shocked even herself.
And when he pulled her down to the carpet and climbed up her body, pressing soft kisses to her hip bone, her belly and her breasts, she was able to catch her breath and wonder how she had lost herself so completely.
But she could do this. She could give herself to him and still retain herself, could show him he was worthy of being loved, and still hold a part of herself intact.
Dante knew the second Anna tensed up again, could feel it in the way her body locked up.
She was a master at control.
Fortunately, he was good at breaking down walls. And he was determined she wasn't going to lock him out, no matter how afraid she was to let him in.
And when she fought to roll over on top of him, he understood.
It was what he'd told her about the safe-deposit box. It had gotten to her.
He stopped her, pushed her onto her side.
"I don't need a pity fuck, Anna."
Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second, then narrowed. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't you?"
She started to get up, but he held her there, draped his leg over hers.
"I can get plenty of pussy, honey. That's not what I'm after with you."
Her chin jutted up and he knew he'd pissed her off, which was exactly what he'd been going for.
"This isn't sweeping me off my feet, Dante."
"No, I'm sure it isn't." He grazed his fingers up her arm, felt the tension coming off her. "But I also know you're trying to control this. You lost control a few minutes ago, and it scared you."
"Don't psychoanalyze me, Renaldi. It pisses me off."
Ignoring her, he said, "I liked you out of control, Anna, your body shaking against my mouth when you came. You threw your head back and all you thought about was your own pleasure."
She shot him a mutinous glare. "Stop it."
He traced the veins on her skin, from her collarbone to the well between her breasts. Her nipples puckered and hardened. "You need to stop listening to your mind and start listening to what your body wants."
He bent and took a long, slow lick of one nipple, rolled his tongue around it, then captured it between his teeth, flicking it with his tongue until she hissed.
He almost laughed. She was the only woman he knew who could be pissed off about being turned on.
When he pulled her nipple into his mouth and sucked, she grabbed the back of his head and drew his mouth to her breast, holding him there while he fed on her nipple. After he worked it for a while, he pushed her onto her back and moved to the other nipple, watching her reaction.
Her eyes had closed, her hands clasped into fists and her body arched as he played with her breasts.
That's what he wanted. Anna engaged, listening to the needs of her body instead of walking through the motions of sex as if it was a road map. She had a lush, beautiful body that was made to be loved, and he knew she'd either had lousy lovers in the past or she just hadn't allowed any man to take his time and give her the attention she deserved.
He was going to give that attention to her, by sweeping his hand over her rib cage, her belly, watching her stomach ripple as he dipped a finger into her belly button, then palming the spot just above her sex, letting his fingers dangle right there, but going no lower.
Her eyes shot open and she watched him warily as he danced around the spot he knew would give her pleasure.
"Dammit."
He was propped up on his elbow, his fingers dancing around her sex, and she was giving him death glares. He had her right where he wanted her, not at all trying to control him, instead focused on his next move.
So instead, he leaned over and gave her a deep, soul-penetrating kiss at the same time he laid the palm of his hand over her sex, then dipped his fingers inside her.
Her body clenched around his fingers as her tongue wound around his. His dick pounded, demanding release.
He could wait. This was all about Anna, about her release, her satisfaction. He wanted her limp and relaxed, all the tension squeezed out of her before he slid inside her.
"You bastard," she whispered as she broke the kiss, reaching for his wrist to guide his movements, to show him what she wanted.
"Yeah," he answered her. "Show me what you want."
She lifted against his hand, searching for more. He gave her more as he pleasured her with his fingers at the same time. Her mouth fell open on a soft cry as she released, the spasms of her body tight around his fingers, her nails digging into his arm.
But it was the way her body bowed that he found so damn hot, the way she put everything into her orgasm that made sweat break out on his brow as he held on to her, his fingers inside her while she rocked through it for what seemed like a full minute until her body relaxed against the carpet.
Yeah. When she let go, she really let go. He wanted to be inside her when that happened, wanted to feel her sweet release surrounding him. He was damn near shaking with the anticipation of it.
So much for retaining his own cool.
He dragged her off the floor and pulled her onto his lap, leaned against the sofa, and swept her hair away from her face, pulling her down for a kiss.
Her mouth tempted him, always had. Besides the sassy things that came out of it when she spoke, she had full, sweet lips and she knew how to kiss. She wasn't tentative about it and she'd always thrown herself fully into a kiss. He loved a woman who did that. Back when they were together before, it had taken every bit of restraint he had to keep from getting her naked and taking her. For some reason, he'd had scruples then.
Now he didn't, and she wasn't sixteen anymore. He could have her, and he intended to.
Right now.
Anna had barely caught her breath, certain Dante was trying to kill her.
Could a woman die from too many orgasms?
She might like to try to find out.
She was at war with herself, still making an attempt to keep that part of herself locked tight despite Dante's assault on every square inch of her body and soul.
But the way his mouth took possession of hers, the deep relentless kisses that made every part of her throb with need, it was as if he knew her game and he was making sure she fully understood he wasn't going to allow her to hold back.
And how could she when his lips brushed hers like that, when the velvety softness of his tongue rasped against hers, demanding she give him everything?
How could she hold anything back when he used his mouth and hands on her in ways that made her cry out in wild abandon, and yet her body still throbbed in anticipation, wanting even more of him?
And now she sat on his lap, the tender, throbbing part of her rubbing against the thick, hard part of him, and he wasn't even attempting to push her into moving to the next step. Instead, he was kissing her again, as if they had all night to do this, which wasn't at all the usual way she approached sex. By now it would have been over with and the guy would have been long gone.
And she would have been frustrated, wholly unsatisfied or busy satisfying herself.
She sure as hell wouldn't need to be satisfying herself tonight. Clearly Dante wasn't the kind of man to leave a woman to see to her own needs. Since she'd been with him she'd had multiple orgasms. He'd had none.
He finally pulled his lips from hers and as she stared down at his incredible blue eyes, her heart lurched. She traced his lips, her fingers wandering over the stubble of beard across his jaw, remembering what that felt like rubbing against her inner thighs. She shivered.
"Cold?" he asked while at the same time sweeping his thumbs over her nipples.
"No. Hot. You make me hot." Hot and slick and we
t and so ready for him.
His lips lifted, which only made him look more dangerous.
"Good. I like you hot. Now climb on and ride me."
Dangerous and wickedly bad. "I'm not sure I like you ordering me around."
He gripped her hips and lifted her. "You can order me around later."
She slid down on him and grasped his shoulders, biting her lip at the feel of him as he entered her.
It was heaven and hell as he filled her, stretched her, and she wasn't sure she'd ever felt anything that made her body tingle with so much awareness. She kept her gaze glued to Dante, and this reminded her why she'd always kept herself disconnected during sex. This intimacy, the way Dante moved inside her and looked at her, forced her to connect with him.
There was no way she could rock against him, filled with him, and not be affected. This wasn't a quick coupling in the dark--it was no-holds-barred, lights-on, open-eyed lovemaking with a man who wouldn't accept anything less than her total surrender.
He drew her forward and grasped her hips, dragging the most sensitive part of her against him.
"You're torturing me," she whispered as she braced her hands on his shoulders.
"Then torture me back." He lifted, burying his cock to the hilt inside her.
She let out a gasp, then curled her fingertips into the crisp hairs of his chest, determined not to let go, not to shatter completely.
"Everything I am is here for you to see, to touch, to taste," he said, rising up to meet her again as he took her hands in his. "I won't hold anything back from you."
Damn him for his honesty, for letting her see the naked truth in his eyes. His fingers dug into her hips and he dragged her against him again, taking her so close she had to bite down on her lip to keep from catapulting over the edge.
"It's only fair to give me the same, Anna. Let go."
Sweat slickened their bodies as they glided over each other. Anna lay on top of him and he grasped hold of her hair in one hand, tugging until it hurt. She liked his possession of her, thrilled to it in a way she couldn't explain.
"Let me have you." He flipped her over onto her back and plunged deep inside her, his mouth grinding against hers the same way his body did, taking full control now.
She lifted her gaze to his, her hands sliding over his skin. "Give me all of it, Dante."