Page 74 of Shadows of Steel
Over the past few days, we've settled into an unspoken routine. Every night, Dante sleeps in our bed. We don’t acknowledge it, don’t talk about it, just go through the motions like it’s always been this way. I take my shower, he takes his, and then we slip into bed in silence.
We don’t touch. Not at first. But somehow, by morning, we always end up tangled together.
More often than not, I wake to an empty bed. But today, as my eyes flutter open, I feel him, his warmth seeping into me, a heavy arm draped around my waist, his body moulded against mine. His breath is slow, steady, his chest rising and falling in sync with mine. And lower, his cock is thick and hard against the curve of my ass, the heat of it searing through the thin barrier of fabric.
I should move.
But instead, I shift, just enough to feel him, to tease myself with the weight of it. Dante exhales a low, guttural sound, his grip tightening, fingers flexing against my waist. His hips roll forward, pressing his cock against me with unmistakable intent. My breath hitches, my thighs clenching in response.
“Good morning,” He murmurs, voice rough from sleep. Amusement lingers beneath the rasp of his words.
I let out a slow breath, forcing my tone flat. “Don’t get any ideas.”
He makes a low sound. “Too late for that, Leonessa.”
I shove his arm off me and sit up, ignoring the way my skin feels overheated. Sliding my legs out of bed, I stand, the hem of my silk nightgown brushing mid-thigh. I turn to face him, and immediately, I catch his eyes raking over my body, startingat my bare legs, trailing up, lingering on my chest, where my nipples are taut against the fabric. His smirk is slow, laced with something undeniably smug. Of course, Dante doesn’t let it go unnoticed.
Amusement drips from his voice as he drawls, “Your body speaks a different language than your mouth, leonessa.”
I shoot him a withering glare, but he only looks more pleased with himself, dark eyes gleaming with that insufferable, lazy confidence. Exhaling sharply, I turn on my heel and stride toward the bathroom, shutting the door with more force than necessary. This is unacceptable. He affects me far too much, and I refuse to grant him that power.
By the time I step out of the shower, steam curling around me, I grab a towel and wrap it snugly around my body. The warmth lingers on my skin as I reach for my robe, slipping it on before making my way to the door.
As soon as I pull it open to exit, I step forward, only to collide with an unyielding wall of muscle.
I inhale sharply, my breath catching as firm hands steady me, the heat of his touch searing through the fabric of my robe.
When I lift my gaze, I find Dante standing there, broad and immovable, effortlessly commanding the space as if it belongs to him. The air between us is thick with his presence.
My hand instinctively presses against my chest as I arch a brow, fixing him with an unimpressed look. “Lurking outside my door, now? How very predictable. Tell me, is this your latest extravagance, or have you simply run out of ways to entertain yourself?”
His lips curve, slow and insufferable. He doesn’t answer, just watches me with dark eyes gleaming with amusement.He’s still only in his boxer briefs, unapologetically at ease with himself, muscles flexing as he leans casually against the doorway, blocking my path.
I exhale sharply. “Do you mind?”
Dante doesn’t move. He stays right where he is, making it very clear that if I want to leave, I’ll have to go through him.
Fine.
Lifting my chin, I step forward, bending just enough to slip under his arm, my shoulder brushing against his chest as I squeeze past. A low chuckle follows behind me, and a second later, I hear the quiet click of the bathroom door closing.
I shake my head, exhaling as I force my focus forward, heading straight for the closet.
Pulling open the doors, I scan my options, fingers grazing over the collection of neatly arranged swimsuits. It’s Sunday, and against all odds, we managed to persuade Dante to take the day off. Well, Mattia did. He’s been relentless in his requests to take the yacht out on the water, wearing Dante down with unwavering persistence until, at last, he relented. I reach for a red two piece, sexy, but not too revealing. While I don’t mind pushing Dante’s buttons, this isn’t about that. This is family time.
The thought persists, heavier than it should.
Family.
It’s unsettling to realize that’s what we are.
I brush the feeling aside, slipping into the swimsuit before layering a light, summery dress over it. Grabbing a wide brimmed hat, I toss a few essentials into a beach bag.
By the time I’m finished, the shower is still running, the steady stream of water filling the quiet space. I slip into a pair of sandals, fastening the delicate strap around my ankle before making my way out of the bedroom, heading toward Mattia’s suite.
Knocking lightly, I wait, listening as a muffled voice drifts through the door. “Five more minutes.”
I push the door open, stepping inside to find Mattia sprawled across his bed, tangled in a mess of blankets and pillows. The curtains remain drawn, shrouding the room in artificial night, untouched by the morning light.
