Indebted to the Mafia King
Yes

Eleni

Despite how tired he seemed a moment ago, Dante comes alive when I kiss him. He grips my hips like the last anchor in a storm, and I undulate against him like the waves he's trying to hold on through. I don't know what to do with this warmth in my chest. It's something more permanent than love, more certain. So I just wrap myself around him, slide my hands into his hair, and try to find a place where everything makes sense to me again.

Dante pulls back. "I'm a little sore tonight. I don't know if I have the whole routine in me."

That home-warmth flares.

"Okay," I say. "I don't mind."

He smiles against my lips. "I love you."

"I love you too." A giggle bursts from my lips. "Do you want me to...?"

Dante trails his kisses away from my mouth, down my neck. "Only if you need it. I'm happy just to feel you tonight."

He's nearly liquid underneath me, languorous and slow. I shake my head. I've never seen this side of Dante, not straining against his own iron control or forgetting about it completely but slumping out of it, discarding it like a set of clothes he doesn't need anymore. It feels dangerous, like the warmth in my chest does, and I have to know more.

I begin unfastening the buttons on his shirt slowly, running my hands over every new inch of bare skin. I savor the coil of his chest hair, the taut muscle underneath. He groans against my neck. When the cloth falls open, I push it off his shoulders. He releases me only long enough to pull it off his wrists, then holds onto my hips again.

With a smile, I lean my weight against him, pressing him down onto the bed. He goes without complaint and slides his hands under my T-shirt. I expect him to go for my bra, to crank the inferno that usually burns between us by teasing my nipples, but he just caresses my rib cage as if mapping the territory there. I grind against him, and he returns one hand to my hips to slow me.

"Can't keep up, grandpa?" I ask teasingly.

Dante looks up at me with eyes so full of the same warmth expanding my chest that all my jokes die a quick, painless death. He doesn't have to say anything for me to know he'll indulge anything I want to say, but he's not playing tonight. This is serious.

Whatever serious means to a man like Dante Cattaneo. My heart hammers, and I try to relax into his touch.

He carefully avoids my now well-known ticklish spots, and after long moments of raising every inch of my skin to total awareness, he tugs on the bottom of my skirt. I pull it off, feeling unbalanced.

Dante eases his hands up over my breasts now, contained in a thankfully modest bra for the day I've had. He still looks at it like the holy grail. This time, I expect another round of slow, teasing touch, but he unsnaps my bra quickly and tosses it aside. Then, he traces a finger delicately over the newly exposed skin, and I realize he has no time for clothes. He just wants to see me. My face burns. I don't know if I've ever been looked at so intensely, even by him. "Don't get shy," he murmurs. "You're stunning."

I rock my hips against his. "It would be a lot easier not to if I wasn't alone."

"Soon." He smiles. Then, he traces the same path with his mouth that his hands followed moments ago.

I pant, feeling like a live wire. Everywhere he touches feels completely new. As if his focus has bled into me, I can't help noticing little details about Dante I never have before. I knew his nose had been broken, but there's a matching bump in his cheekbone, like someone busted his whole face. His knuckles are dusty with faded, overlapping scars, like he's scraped them so many times the injuries blended together. His dark eyes hide the barest hints of something lighter, flickers of brown or gold that catch the light every so often.

When Dante adjusts, pulling both of us farther onto the bed, I startle. I'd fallen so deep into studying him that I almost forgot he wasn't some old master's self-portrait but a real, live man who loves me. "Still there?" he asks.

I nod. He offers me a quiet smile, and his teasing hands circle to the button of my pants. I lift off him for a moment to slide my shorts and underwear off in one motion. Then, I do the same to him. We're moving so slowly that I almost expect him not to be ready yet, but like the wetness dripping down my bare thighs, he's proudly hard. Still, I straddle him and just rock for a moment, not wanting to leave long enough to get a condom. Dante runs his hands up and down my bent legs, a promise he's just as happy as I am.

"Now," he says finally. "I can't wait any longer."

I lean over to grab a condom. Something behind me rustles, likely Dante adjusting again. When I turn back, he is higher on the pillows, though I have the vague sense something else moved as well. The thought floats out of my brain as I open the package and slide the protection onto his cock. He thrusts into my hand slowly, and I smile.

Dante lines me up, holding my gaze. "All at once?"

"Please," I whisper.

He pulls me down onto him, and with a pleasant burn, my hips meet his. I roll against him without lifting, and my eyes flutter closed.

More rustling.

"El?" Dante says.

I open my eyes. His jacket lays half on his chest, and in his hands, the ring box I spotted weeks ago sits open. Two slim, silver and gold bands sit inside. One hides blue stones in the crevices between where the two metals weave together, and the other, bigger one is plain. My breath catches.

"Marry me?" he asks.

That dangerous feeling yawns. Like standing at the edge of a cliff and wanting to jump. There's no turning back from this.

But I passed turning back a while ago. The warmth in my chest spreads to the tips of my fingers and toes.

"Yes." I kiss him.

As soon as I pull back, Dante whoops like a college boy and rolls me over. A wild smile paints his face. He fucks me into the mattress with celebratory thrusts, and I match his rhythm, laughing. Dante Cattaneo. My fiancé. After all that build-up, my orgasm hits suddenly and sends me reeling. A moment after, Dante collapses onto my chest, panting.

"Two rings?" I ask as soon as I can. "Wedding and engagement?"

He smiles. "One for you, one for me. I promised."

I kiss him again.