Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 100608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
He laughs, dark and cruelly. “Probably brought it on themselves.”
Ice shoots through my veins. “What?”
“Come on, Jaxson. You’ve met the guy. He’s an arrogant dick. And from the feedback I’m getting, his brother isn’t any better.”
My hand visibly shakes at his words. I have to fist it to get it to stop. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that,” I growl. “No one deserves to have homophobic shit vandalized on their property. Or worse yet, they don’t deserve to get physically attacked in the bathroom. He’s a kid, for fuck’s sake, Dad.”
Silence.
“Really?” I hiss. “And here I thought you were the perfect cop back in your day. Hell, I even thought, as mayor, you’d give a damn. But, most importantly, I thought you’d care because your fucking son cares. Forget I called. If you hear anything of use, you know my number.”
I hang up and force in a few calming breaths. By the time I’ve relaxed, I discover Dante watching me through the restaurant window, his brows pinched together in concern and a pout on his sexy lips. All anger I felt moments before fades as I take in the handsome man in front of me. Dad can be an asshole about this. I should have never asked for his help. Whoever is responsible for the things happening to Dante and Callan will pay. I will discover who’s doing these attacks.
“Everything okay?” Dante asks when they climb back into my vehicle, the air filling with the scent of garlic and cheese.
“It is now.” I wink at him before pulling out of the parking lot.
When we make it home, the boys don’t bother hanging with Dante and me, instead opting to take a pizza with them to Zak’s apartment. I set the other pizza box on the coffee table and fetch some plates while Dante finds us a couple of beers. We brush against each other in passing. I smile because it feels right and natural having him here in my kitchen with me.
He belongs.
My heart aches with the psychological torment. I want Dante in ways I’ve never wanted anyone before, not even Kian. Something about him calls to me. Keeping our relationship a secret is difficult because I crave to shout it from the rooftops.
Which is fucking stupid considering we’ve only been seeing each other a little over a week. Yet, with Dante, every day spent with him feels like thirty. He knows secrets about me not many people do. And, better yet, he’s touched and kissed places no one else has.
I sit beside him on the sofa and we both eat in pensive silence. It makes me wonder if he craves the same thing I do. He’d called his ex a few days ago, which I admit stung a little, but he’s been dedicated to me every day since.
This is so much more than a fling to get these feelings out of my system. If anything, it makes the feelings grow more intense. Realization has begun to wash over me like a cold, spring rain, waking parts of me that have been in forced slumber for far too long. I want to latch onto those feelings and nurture them. To grow them and see how they blossom. Would I finally be living a life I actually wanted rather than this copycat version of my father’s?
“You’re quiet,” I say once we’ve both set our plates down. “Are you okay?”
Dante shrugs and tilts his head up at the ceiling. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. Leaning toward him, I press a kiss to the side of his neck.
“Talk to me, baby,” I murmur, running my palm over his solid chest. “Please.”
He groans at my touch, his hand covering mine, stopping my movement and keeping hold of me against his heart. “I can’t help but wonder if I’ve made a terrible mistake.”
The finality and heartbreak in his words are a sucker punch to the gut. I don’t like how they make me feel—like he might disappear at any moment. After kicking off my shoes, I slide across his lap, straddling him so I can look at his face. His palms settle on my ass like he’s staking a claim on it. I run my fingers through his hair before pressing a kiss to his lips. He parts his lips and allows me to spoil him with worshipful kisses. Then, the Dante I know, grows greedy and his tongue duels with mine, eagerly tasting me like he needs it for sustenance.
We kiss frantically for a few minutes. When we break for air, I lean my forehead against his so I can stare deep into his eyes.
“Talk to me,” I urge. “You know you can tell me anything.”
I pull back to give him some space while silently waiting for him to speak. After a long, frustrated sigh, he does.