Page 54 of Throne of Sin

“I don’t deserve you.” I shake my head. “You are a better person than me.”

“Not true. I love everything about you.”

He leads me back to the main room and takes me out onto the terrace. As soon as the few people out here see Dante, they quickly leave, allowing us some privacy.

I keep my voice low. “I thought the mafia doesn’t work with the cops?”

“This isn’t me working with them. We help each other, that’s all. You will never find me on a stand in court. They respect that I deliver justice in a different method than they can. If they could, they would use me and toss me in jail.”

I shiver from the cooler night air and he wraps his arm around me.

“I want to help too,” I say leaning back into him.

“And you have. You already gave us more information than we had before.” Dante’s voice is soft, his thumb circling on top of my hand.

I turn into his embrace. “I want to do what you do and go undercover to help.”

He’s staring down at me softly. It’s like we’ve been transported ten years into the past. He’s looking at me like I mean everything to him. It lights my skin on fire and warms my heart. Dante has been the only person to ever look at me like I am worth more than anything else in the world.

I rise on my tiptoes, wanting to kiss him. One hand gently cups the side of my jaw as the other threads through my hair. Taking his time, he dips his head to close the distance between us. I shut my eyes, anticipation strumming through me. His touch, his kisses, are the most intoxicating thing I have ever had. My lips are warmed by his breath fanning across them, energy radiates off them as he takes his time teasing me. I’m about to open my eyes to see if he plans on kissing me sometime this century, when he finally lowers his lips to mine.

They are more delicious than I remember. I lose myself in his touches as he kisses me like he’s a starved man and I’m the cure to his hunger. My heart wants to burst, with its newfound warmth of love.

I have loved this man since I was seventeen years old. The thought slams into me like a sledgehammer and I pull away, catching my breath. I want to cry for how I’ve treated him our entire lives. I always pushed him away when I should have been holding onto him tighter. The fact he’s still here, holding me, is a miracle.

“Why are you so kind to me?” I ask, my guilt beginning to consume me like it does every time before I force myself to place distance between us.

“Your heart is bigger than everyone’s in there. It’s something to be cherished.”

It’s things like this that amplify the guilt I harbor. “You can’t say things like that to me.”

“Why?”

“I’ve always thought I never deserved you. When you say nice things, it sends me into a spiral where I think you’re better off without me in your life.” There, I said part of the truth that has plagued me for years. My chest hurts from the radical pounding of my heart.

“So, you would rather I be an ass?”

He’s staring at me with sadness in his eyes. This is why I’ve never said anything before.

“Forget I said anything.” I try to push away from him—to hide my heart—and I wish I could disappear into the shadows.

“Don’t do that.” His fingers circle my wrist and he pulls me snug to him. “I know you can’t control how you feel, but I wish you could see yourself through my eyes. You are perfect. I tell you nice things like this because I hope that, if you hear them enough, one day you might believe in them. Even if it’s only for thirty seconds, it’s a start.”

Tears pepper my eyes. I was taught to be stronger than this. Dante kisses my forehead, then my closed eyes, before placing a kiss to my lips. It’s soft and quick, the barest of whispers, before he’s back staring into my soul through my eyes.

“I know about all the dark things we had to survive growing up,” he whispers.

I shake my head because he doesn’t know what happened after he left. It gets stuck in my throat and my body shakes, trying to push it out. He wraps his arms around me tighter, holding me, not saying a word.

“I need you to punish me.” My words are hardly audible and I disappoint myself when they cover up the truth.

“No, Baby Girl. I’m going to worship you.” His tone is strong and lethal and I refuse to argue. “Now ask me nicely.”

“What?” He gives me enough room to look up at his face.

“Ask me nicely to worship your body.” That cocky smirk of his is back in place.

“Will you please worship my body?”

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