Page 126 of Enforcer

That night, I went to his apartment three weeks ago. I was answering his texts to get closure, but I almost told him then that I loved him.

I snuck out the following day and ran home to cry myself into what would become the most extended depressive episode I’ve ever had—the only one, to be honest.

The last three weeks have been miserable. But I had Brynne to keep me busy, as she was put on bed rest until the induction after a scare of bleeding.

She was overdue when they induced her last night, and I was right beside her while she pushed baby Nico into the world like the goddess that she is.

It was such a beautiful moment that opened my eyes to so much. Like how pig-headed I’ve been being. Brynne loves Slate with everything she has—loves him like tomorrow might not come. As much as that used to scare me, after watching them together today, watching them fawn over the legacy they’ll leave behind, it opened my eyes to how much I’d be missing to continue on the path I was on.

“Where are you, tesoro?” Dante asks, tapping my temple as I get lost in my head.

I shake my head. “Just thinking.”

“About me?”

I laugh. “You’re so self-centered.”

“I resent that; I am not.”

“Oh, yeah? Then what are you?”

He leans down, his lips finding mine and causing another wave of energy to crash over me. “I’m obsessed with you. Too obsessed with you to be self-centered.”

He tugs me off the counter before he crouches before me. His eyes look up at me as he tugs my leggings over my hips and down my legs.

I toe them off and kick them to the side of us.

He nuzzles his face into my aching center.

“God,” I breathe.

“Needy for me?” he asks, lifting a finger to run it the length of my slit.

I hiss. “Dante, please don’t toy with me.”

“Mm,” he says as his finger easily slides through my wetness. “Fuck, tesoro, when was the last time you made yourself come?”

“I haven’t,” I admit, looking down as a grin lifts his lips.

“Liar.”

“I haven’t,” I reiterate, trying to convey with the look on my face how serious I am.

Now, he stands. He towers over me as he searches my face for something while he grasps for words.

“I couldn’t,” I add breathlessly.

His massive tattooed arms cage me, his hands gripping the counter’s edge. “Why?”

I swallow. “Dante, don’t make me…”

“You owe me as much,” he snaps.

As much as I hate it, he’s right. “I couldn’t because I only wanted you. I didn’t want some cold toy inside me if you weren’t the one putting it there. I didn’t want my fingers, I wanted your cock. I didn’t want some image of you behind my closed eyes; I wanted you. I wanted your mouth on me, your tongue dominating mine, your hands on my body,” I breathe.

His forehead rests against mine as one of his hands finds my pussy again, two fingers rubbing my clit.

I moan, opening to him the best I can. “Dante!”

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