Page 58 of Unhinged Little Angel

He yawns and rubs his eyes with the palms of his hands.

“Beef lo mein, please. I need to hop in the shower. My ass cheeks are glued together with cum.” He pushes himself up onwobbly legs and I let out a pleased, possessive growl thinking about my cum trickling out of him while he slept.

I watch his bare ass greedily as he saunters out of the room, then I pull out my phone to place the order. Once that’s done, I clean up the glorious mess we made, sweep up the broken glass, and gather the court transcripts and police reports into a garbage can. I put the can on the balcony so we can have a little bonfire with it later if Dante wants. By the time everything is back in order the food is here and Dante’s out of the shower.

“Goddamn that smells good,” he groans. His hair is still damp and he’s wearing one of my overly large t-shirts from the bottom of my dresser. It covers just enough that I can’t be sure whether he’s wearing anything underneath.

The remnants of our earlier conversation crash over me again. Not the ugly, jagged edges of his past, but that moment his eyes sparked with wonder when he realized how I’ve felt about him for too damn long, and the answer on his lips when he finally stopped playing brat and said it back. Except, I don’t think I actually said the words out loud. I confirmed them, but that’s not quite the same.

I set the package of egg rolls on the counter and make my way towards him. I don’t know if it was the confession or everything else, but the relaxed way he holds himself is totally different now. His feisty air of confidence and sass is still intact in the smirk he levels me with as I stoop to sweep him off his feet though. He squeals with surprise and wraps his legs around me.

Nope, nothing underneath the shirt. My cock stirs again, more than ready for round two. But we have a few other things to take care of first, so that will have to wait. I catch his mouth in a rough kiss.

“I love you,” I growl, tugging his bottom lip between my teeth and savoring the gasp he feeds me.

“I know.” He grins.

I carry him into the kitchen and set him down on the island, right next to the food I just started unpacking.

“Cold,” he gasps.

“Sorry.” I chuckle. I’m not really. He deserves a little punishment for making me beg for his words earlier, and his bare ass on the cold marble countertop seems fitting enough.

“Hey, what’s the deal with the Fitzpatricks?” he says as he takes the lo mein I hand him and a pair of chopsticks.

“What do you mean?”

“Last week when I got attacked, you said something about the Fitzpatricks, I feel like you mentioned them once before too. Who are they?”

“Irish fuckers with their own little organization just outside of Wildcliff.” I scoop some fried rice into my mouth and lick my lips, chewing before I go on. “Just seems unlikely that there’s a ginger criminal in this city that isn’t associated with them, but I can’t work out why they would have anything to do with Don, so it must be a coincidence.”

Dante waffles his head back and forth and scrunches his eyebrows, poking at his food with his chopsticks while he thinks.

“What else can you tell me about them? Maybe we’re missing something.”

I give him the quick rundown, which isn’t much. Just that they’re a thorn in our asses but Lorenzo isn’t ready to escalate things into a full-out war yet.

“Oh, and the boss, Declan, his brother just did a stint. He got out a month or so ago.”

Dante’s eyebrows shoot up. “Where?”

His line of logic isn’t hard to follow. “You think he could have met Don while they were locked up?”

“It’s not impossible, right?” He slurps a noodle through his lips noisily.

“Not impossible,” I agree. “But why? What could Don have to offer that Cian would want? He walked right out of prison to become the crown prince of a pretty well established organization, why bother helping him with petty stalking and revenge?”

“The guy who attacked me said something.” He takes another bite and chews while he puzzles again, trying to remember. “Fuck, I can’t remember exactly, but he said something like, Don wants the truth to come out, but that me marrying you only helped with his agenda.”

“Hisas in the redheaded fuck who branded you?” I clarify, and Dante nods. “Okay, hold on, there’s one other thing that doesn’t fit.”

I set down my food and go in search of my phone. I find it under the couch, where it must have fallen out of my pocket earlier. I pull up my contact for Sparrow and head back into the kitchen while it rings.

“If he doesn’t want to tell you, I’m not telling you,” Sparrow says.

“No, it’s not about the police records. We already cleared that up.”

“Oh, okay, what’s up?” I can hear the click-clack of keyboard keys faintly in the background.

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