Page 28 of Rescued By the Mafia

She dragged in a shaky breath and held tightly to the comforter pooled in her lap. “You came…”

He raised his arms, bracing against the doorframe. “You screamed,” he repeated.

Iris swallowed hard, attempting to clear her throat. “I-I’m sorry—”

Dante grunted and strode into the room, not looking away. Not even blinking. “No, Snapdragon,” he said, his tone unexpectedly gentle. He dropped to his knees beside her bed and reached out, covering her hands with his. “I meant, of course I came. I never want to hear you scream like that. I never want you to have cause to scream like that again.”

Iris let the comforter slip from her fingers in favor of Dante’s reassuring strength. He was every contradiction to the laws of her past that she’d ever sought out. He was nothing like her ex, and ironically warmer than her mother had been, and best of all, he continued to show up. Even when he could easily justify not doing so.

She was afraid to fall, but she was more afraid to lose this impossible chance.

So she disentangled her legs from the mess she’d made of the blankets and slid to the side of the bed, landing practically in his lap before she was even off the mattress. Her arms curled around his shoulders as his moved around her waist and Iris pulled herself closer. “This room … is lonely. Can I stay with you?”

Dante stood, lifting her simultaneously. “Tonight, I might even let you sleep.” He pressed his lips to her hair as they turned and he carried her from the room.

Iris let her eyes close, wanting to enjoy the peace of being in his arms.

Dante set her down on a different mattress, releasing her carefully and sweeping bunched up blankets out from under her legs as he moved. The blankets were lowered over her and Dante pressed his lips to her forehead before retreating. Without a word he disappeared from the room, and in less than a minute he was back, a charging cable and her phone in hand. He pushed the door shut behind him, plugged the phone in and left it to rest on top of the nightstand beside his own, and only then did he climb onto the bed.

Iris watched all of this silently, almost reverently. Tears burned behind her eyes for a moment. He was being so thoughtful.

“You don’t need to cry, honey,” Dante said quietly. He pulled her against him as he laid down, placing her head on his shoulder and moving his hand to her hair. “You’re safe here.”

He thought she was still scared. She should have still been scared, or at least shaking from her nightmares. But she was so much less used to this soft, tender post-nightmare care that it was overwhelming all of those usual feelings.

Iris snuggled into him, letting her arm stretch over his muscled abs and her toes curl into his pant leg. His scent filled her lungs, further relaxing her, and she found herself smiling. “Thank you for being my sanctuary,” she whispered against his skin.

Dante pulled the comforter a little higher, until it rested over her shoulders, then moved the hand not anchored in her hair down to clasp her hand over his chest. “Thank you, Iris, for trusting me to.”

She hummed, her eyes drifting shut again, lulled to the darkness of sleep by the comfort and security surrounding her. Her eyes were a little crusty still from the tears she’d cried earlier, but no new ones fell. And she hoped, in her heart, that her nightmares might finally have met their match.

When she pried her eyes open again, the room had become much lighter. Sunlight leaked in around the edges of the dark curtain that covered the window on the far wall. She felt a little groggy with sleep, and yet her body was inappropriately awake. The latter surely a result of the lust-filled dream she could already only vaguely remember.

“Good morning.”

Dante’s husky timbre washed over her and Iris blinked, turning her unseeing gaze away from the curtain-covered window she had rolled to face and bringing herself nearly nose-to-nose with the man in her bed. No. She was the one in his bed. She remembered now. She remembered him rushing to her, scooping her up, and tucking her in next to him. She remembered him being so gentle with her, offering her exactly what she needed.

Iris smiled, unable to look away from his eyes and the subtle lift of his lips. “Good morning,” she whispered back.

He brushed his fingers across her cheek, down the back of her jaw. “Did you sleep better?”

Her heart beat faster. Iris stretched out her foot beneath the blanket, curious how far apart the rest of them were, and her toes met his shin. He’s so warm. It was a stupid thought, but it made her want to shuffle closer. She nearly forgot to answer him. “Much better.”

She hadn’t realized she’d still been lying on his arm until he lifted it to grab hold of her ass and drag her up to his chest, his other hand sliding to her nape. And then he kissed her, hard and demanding, reawakening the hunger that her last dreams had stirred. Iris moaned into the kiss, squirming in his hold as his tongue ravaged her mouth.

Dante broke the kiss and slid his hand up from her butt, underneath her nightshirt. The feel of his palm against her skin made her breath catch in her throat. “I don’t think I can let you out of this bed until we’ve had our breakfast,” he said.

Heat pulsed through her at the memory of his touch, and the taste of him on her tongue. She licked her lips. “Breakfast in bed?” Her voice was as needy as his had been lustful. Even she could hear it.

He smirked. “Abso-fucking-lutely.” He promptly rolled onto his back, shoved the blankets to the foot of the bed with a single hard kick, and patted the mattress above one shoulder. “I need you to straddle my shoulders and put that sweet ass in my face so I can eat you out properly. And it’d really make me happy if you swallowed my cock at the same time.”

She didn’t immediately process his words, because in the morning light Iris had finally realized that Dante apparently slept shirtless. And it seemed to her, his body was definitely the most criminal thing about him. The man was ripped. But more than that, there was a curve of black and green ink running across his midsection that matched in style and coloring to the dragon’s head that circled in again from over his shoulder and arched up his neck, just as she’d seen in that picture. The two pieces coordinated, but didn’t, and it intrigued her. So much so that she didn’t consciously hear his words for a solid ten seconds.

Iris snapped her focus up from his chest, cheeks reddening at the realization she’d been caught staring, and gaped at him. “Isn’t that— You want to—”

Dante chuckled, the sound low and unfairly sexy. “What? You think you’re too old to sixty-nine?” He made no secret of letting his own gaze trail the length of her. “I know I’m not.”

nine

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