Sergio didn’t move.
Phoenix rubbed his chin with his hand. “You coming, Serg?”
“I’m not sure.” Sergio crossed his arms. “I mean how many times were you a dick to me over your sister? Interrupting things you had no business interrupting. Raising hell,” He laughed when Dante looked ready to charge him with a knife. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming, but you owe me, Dante.”
“Make a list,” Dante snapped.
Sergio and Phoenix laughed and closed the door behind them.
Blanketing us in a tense silence.
Dante pinned me with another heady look before he jerked his chin at me. “Rule number one, no shirts in the ring.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Even for girls?”
His voice lowered as he grabbed a piece of the cotton material between his fingers and tugged. “Especially for girls.”
“How do I know you’re telling the truth? I mean these rules, are they written down somewhere?”
He tapped his head with one finger. “Locked up here, besides, why would I lie to you?”
“Why indeed?” I jerked the shirt over my head before I lost my nerve. At least I was wearing a black sports bra, it still left nothing to the imagination thanks to Victoria’s Secret and their new sports line.
Dante’s look swallowed me whole, like he was already envisioning tasting, taking.
“Any more rules?” I put my hands on my hips.
“Just one.” He approached until we were almost chest to chest, I could smell his sweat and had a sudden urge to run my hands down his chest, and see if they’d slide against his smooth skin. “No lies in the ring. You have to be able to trust who you spar with.”
I kept my expression guarded as I agreed with a quick. “Okay.”
“All right.” He was back to fight mode. “Show me what you go—”
I swung at his jaw, he stumbled back as my hit landed its mark.
His stunned expression was worth it as I charged again this time, landing a round house kick to his stomach before he could ask me who taught me how to fight.
“What the hell?” Dante hissed then stomped toward me.
Oh shit.
I blocked his next two punches before he landed one to my stomach, I flexed against it and tried to throw him over my shoulder.
But he was too big.
Too heavy.
Too good.
He laughed.
Actually laughed against my ear like I was tickling him.
I jerked free and tried to hit him again, this time he caught my right hand, my left, and when I tried to land a kick he gripped my ankle and jerked twisting me into the air until I landed with a huff on my side.
“You know exactly three different ways to surprise your assailant enough to get away.” He knelt next to me and grinned. “But you’re rusty.”
“Ouch.” I rubbed my stomach.
He didn’t apologize.
I would have been pissed if he did.
“Who taught you to fight?”
I shrugged. “Maybe I’m self-taught.”
“Bullshit.”
I sighed. “It’s… does it matter?”
He surveyed my stomach running his hands down where I knew I was going to bruise. “It matters to me.”
“Papa.” I cleared my throat. “My Grandpa was a boxer who loved a bit of Jiu Jitsu. He taught me before… everything.”
“Did you fight them?” Rage laced his tone. “Did you try to kill them before they took you?”
“I did.” I swallowed. “And so did my papa. He died trying to save me… I didn’t know it at the time, but he helped secure the fights for a lot of the Petrovs. He wasn’t what I would call a good man, but I loved him.” I blinked away a few tears.
“You don’t love things because their inherently good El, sometimes you just love people for who they are — for where they’re at. You don’t have to love actions, you can love the person despite what they do.”
“I loved him, despite what he did.” I left out the part where whenever I saw his face I thought of my dead parents as well.
“Do you blame him for getting taken by the Petrovs? Sold to Xavier for his own pleasure?”
“Twenty questions, huh?” I said nervously.
“It’s not like we have a lot of time, El.”
It made me sadder, made the tears fill my eyes faster than my papas own death. “It made me hate them. But I never blamed my papa for not being able to keep me safe — because I’d like to think that somehow, his memory is what helped keep me alive.”
“Sometimes memories are all we have.” Dante cupped my face.
“Yeah.” I gulped.
He leaned in.
I shouldn’t have met him halfway.
And when our lips were a breath apart.
He stopped.
“El.”
“Yeah.”
“Make this memory a good one.”
He crushed his mouth to mine.
And the first tear of many I would cry over Dante Nicolasi, fell.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Dante
EVERY SINGLE TIME I kissed her in my mind, it was frenzied, rushed, with barely restrained passion.
But now that it was a reality, now that my lips were tasting hers, now that our mouths were sealed with words we’d never trust the world around us to hear — I knew. I would rather die than rush each kiss she let me give her.
I reached for her ass lifting her onto my lap, she leaned up on her knees straddling my body against the dirty mat as I dove my fingers into her silky hair jerking just hard enough to gain access to her throat.
El let out a moan as she clenched my shoulders moving her body slowly against mine in every way I’d dreamed of since that first time we kissed.
Since the first time we locked eyes.
Since the first time she let me see her pain.
And I let her see mine.
You know you’ve found something undeniable when you can show the girl the monster and rather than run away she runs toward it and holds its hand.
I was the very thing she hated.
The very thing that represented death.
And still she returned each kiss with more pressure, and when my tongue slid into her mouth, she cried out against me like she’d been waiting her whole life for my taste.
I pleaded with my body — remember this.
Never forget.
Because I knew I would never have it again.
Her lips trembled when I ran my hands up her sides my fingers dancing along her skin.
Remember.
Remember.
I wrestled.
I warred with the need to take her.
And leave nothing for him.
Maybe I wasn’t a monster after all.
Because I couldn’t find it in me.
I lifted her off my body, easily laying her down next to me. “Let me see all of you.”
She gulped. “I’m not used to…” Red flared across her cheeks.
“El, I’d kill him for you. I’d make him suffer, but since someone’s already beat me to it — I’ll make them suffer, I’ll make Andrei suffer. I’ll kill them all. For you. I’ll make it hurt.”
Her full lips spread into a smile that pierced my heart, shattering it with its intensity.
Her smile could both start wars.
And end them.
“Please,” I urged. “Please let me give you this.”
She nodded a jerky nod but it was still a nod.
I reached for her jeans and slowly pulled them past her hips, knees, feet with each movement, each tug, my breathing slowed.
Those legs.
I could spend years worshipping her legs alone.