Page 95 of Second Chance Daddy
“Will it always come back to that?” I bark. “Me leaving?”
She shoves at my chest, hard. “You left and chose this life. This life will always come first for you, Dante. Admit that you enjoy it!”
My hand flies out, grabbing her wrist mid-swing, yanking her closer. Our faces inches apart, breathing the same cracked, dangerous air.
“I went the first time because I had no fucking choice. My father needed me to prove myself. Three years ago, I was done with the Russian fucking Bratva. Came back here to start fresh.”
She struggles, but I don’t let go.
“That morning after I was with you, I got orders for a raid to pull. I was to kill a traitor. One single traitor who had mixed up with the enemies. It was supposed to be clean,” I grit out.
Her expression falters, confusion cracking through.
“But when I got there,” I feel raw in my soul, “I couldn’t do my job.”
I stare through her, through the walls, through the years of shit.
“I killed him, alright. But during the raid, there was a woman,” I spit. “Locked in a closet after being beaten really badly. Trafficked. Property to our enemies.”
Her face pales, breath catching.
“I killed them all,” I say, voice ragged. “Tore the place apart.” My grip loosens on her wrist, but she doesn’t pull away. “But my father? He was pissed. Told me I started a war because I was weak.”
The last words taste like poison.
“That’s why I left. Because if I stayed, I’d turn into the monster my father wanted me to be.”
For a heartbeat, we just stand there.
I lean in with lethal honesty. “We’re all monsters in this world, Cass, but not all are evil. And yes, I killed a man who hurt my kid and her mother.” My thumb brushes her jaw. “You just get to decide which kind I am.”
Her breath catches.
She doesn’t move or pull away.
But her eyes—God, her eyes are still fighting me.
So I lean in, slowly this time, testing the air between us, my hand still wrapped around her wrist, my other brushing her jaw.
“If you hate me, Cass…” My voice drops, rough as hell. “Now’s your chance.”
She doesn’t take it. Her lips part—just a breath—but that’s all it takes to break me.
Then she moves like an unforgiving wind, grabbing the front of my shirt, dragging me in like I’m oxygen and poison all at once.
The kiss hits like a grenade. I crash into her like a wave breaking against the shore, my mouth finding hers in a collision of teeth and tongue and desperation. I bruise her lips with mine, and she kisses me back like she’s been dying to lose this fight too.
My hands slide down her sides, gripping her hips, dragging her against me so she can feel exactly what she does to me. She gasps into my mouth, nails digging into my shoulders through my shirt.
I spin us, backing her up until she hits the wall with a soft thud. My hands are everywhere—in her hair, down her sides, gripping her ass, lifting her so her legs wrap around my waist.
“Tell me to stop,” I growl against her throat, teeth grazing the sensitive skin. “Tell me you don’t want this.”
“Don’t stop,” she pants, head falling back. “Don’t you dare fucking stop.”
I pull back just enough, our foreheads nearly touching, her breath hot against my mouth.
“You called me a monster. So pick, Cass… am I the kind that breaks you?” My thumb grazes her lips, teasing, “Or the kind you live for?”
