Page 66 of Gin & Trouble

I struggled to come up with a reply. We needed to talk, but I wanted something else entirely. I wanted him. Draping my arms around his shoulders, I leaned closer to kiss him.

He eased his head back. “We should finish clearing the air between us.”

“We should.”

“I’m sorry,” we spoke in unison.

Chuckling, he set me down and motioned for me to go first.

“I should have been honest with you at the masked ball, but I was too caught up in meeting you to think straight. Then when I figured out who you were…” I didn’t quite know how to put it all into words.

“I get it. It’s taken me a couple of days to tease out what I know about you as a person versus what I know about your family.”

“Same here.” I dipped my chin. “I was taught to believe the Marchionnis were ruthless and selfish. If I’d known you, or even your brothers, I would have realized I could have come to you for help instead of pretending to be someone else.”

“Promise me there are no more lies. No matter what, you can be honest with me.”

Maybe I should burn the test results and forget all about them. My family has caused the Marchionnis enough trauma for ten lifetimes. Why hurt him when I don’t even know for sure?

Praying I was making the right decision, I said, “I promise.”

“I know there’s more to figure out, but our conversation might go smoother if we get rid of some of this tension.”

I loved the way his mind worked, but I worried he’d regret taking me to bed. More so, I worried I’d never want to leave.

As if he read my mind, Dante whispered, “I know the odds are stacked against us. Let me love you tonight. We’ll figure out the rest tomorrow.”

How can I say no to that?

“Okay. Sex first, talk later.” My voice cracked.

He carried me to the bedroom, set me on the edge of the mattress, and claimed my mouth. He kissed me with a tenderness I didn’t expect. After the previous few days, the fact I was there with him overwhelmed me.

I can’t let him go, but I can’t see a way forward.

Breaking the kiss, he slid his T-shirt off but stopped as if he’d sensed my indecision, or more likely felt it. “Are you having second thoughts?”

“No, not about this.” I trailed my fingertips down his chest.

“Good.” Caressing me as he went, he pulled the borrowed shirt over my head and kicked off his pants.

My heart pounding and breaking, I held his gaze as he slid my PJ pants and thong down my legs. If I lived to be one hundred years old, I’d never forget the look in his eyes. I’d never felt so beautiful, so cherished, so loved.

“Frankie?” Dante cupped my cheek. “Last names, family feuds, our unorthodox beginning, none of that matters.”

“How can you say that?” I hated myself for allowing my emotions to get in the way of what could be a beautiful night with Dante, but I couldn’t help it.

He pressed his brow to mine. “Because I’m still me, and you’re still you.”

“You’re right, but—”

He placed his index finger on my lips. “Stop worrying.”

“Make me.” I rested one hand on his chest; the other drifted down to his cock.

Dante’s breath hitched as he kissed me again.

Before I could decide if his reaction was from lust or if he was as conflicted as I was, he snaked his arm around me, lifted me up, and eased me down in the center of the bed.

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