Dante cupped her head and kissed her back almost violently, then turned, rolling her beneath him on the bed. Mary slid her arms around him, and then reached down, trying to grab his butt, but he was already pulling back slightly. He was positioning himself, she realized as she felt him press against her opening, and then he was sliding home and she arched and groaned into his mouth as he filled her.
When Dante suddenly broke their kiss, she cried out in protest, then gasped in surprise when he caught her ankles and drew them up to rest against his shoulders on either side of his head. With nothing else within reach, Mary grabbed at his forearms and almost screamed as he slammed home again, this time seeming to thrust deeper and fill her more fully. She opened eyes she hadn’t realized she’d closed and simply watched his face, her mind full of amazement as wave after wave of pleasure began rolling through her, seeming to expand with each surge, and then her eyes squeezed closed and she cried out as those waves all suddenly crashed against her brain at once, carrying her under as they did.
Mary woke to find herself wrapped in Dante’s arms . . . and it felt perfect. In all the years she’d been married to Joe she’d never woken feeling so content or as if she belonged right where she was. Joe had been her husband for the better part of her life. For a while he’d also been her enemy, and then he’d been her partner and best friend, but Dante felt like . . . a part of her. And she was quite sure that she could have lain there forever. At least she could have if she didn’t have to pee so badly.
Grimacing, Mary glanced toward the bathroom door and then at the hand dangling off her shoulder. After a hesitation, she slowly eased downward, trying to get out from beneath his arm without waking him. At first Dante’s arm went with her, but then it dropped away and she quickly sat up, then slid from the bed and rushed to the bathroom door.
Mary spotted the toothbrush by the sink while she was washing her hands afterward. The sight made her slip her tongue around the outside of her teeth and her eyebrows rose slightly when she didn’t find them furry. She didn’t even know when last she’d brushed her teeth. Her last morning as a mortal, she supposed. Which meant it had been . . . what? Dante said she’d been asleep for four days, but how long had they slept this time? She didn’t know, but even four days was a long time to go without brushing. There should be some serious buildup on her teeth, but there didn’t appear to be any. Did nanos take care of that too? Is that why she hadn’t woken up with bad breath and a desire to brush and gargle? Man, if they did, that was pretty super cool. Mary had always hated the dentist.
Adding that to her growing list of things to ask Dante, she picked up the toothbrush, squirted some toothpaste on it and quickly brushed her teeth. She followed that by brushing her hair, then considered herself in the mirror.
She looked good. At least Mary thought she looked good. Her hair fell softly around her face with a natural wave that didn’t need much fussing. She’d already recognized that she didn’t need makeup. She wouldn’t feel at all subconscious going out like this. Well, with clothes on, of course.
Making a face at her reflection, she turned and opened the door and stepped out into the bedroom.
Dante was still sleeping, his beautiful body splayed out on the bed, completely uncovered from the waist up, and one leg also free of the sheet that just draped across his hip and trailing down to cover one leg after tenting slightly over his groin, which didn’t appear to be sleeping like he was. He was a feast for her eyes. And other parts of her body as well, she recognized, as a tingling started between her legs just from looking at him. Mary almost tossed aside her desire for food to crawl on top of the man and settle herself on that morning erection pushing at the sheet, but she was hungry again. Crazy hungry.
Turning from the sight of Dante’s beautiful body, she walked to the closet and eased the door open. Mary immediately spotted the shorts and T-shirt she’d worn the day of the accident among the male clothes inside. Her gaze slid over what appeared to be a dozen pairs of jeans, and twice as many black T-shirts, followed by several more colorful T-shirts, and finally a black leather jacket. Her eyebrows rose. The man was apparently a clotheshorse, she thought, wishing she had more of a selection herself. However, she didn’t.
Retrieving the two hangers holding her T-shirt and shorts, Mary turned away, and then paused and glanced around the room, wondering what Dante would have done with her bra and panties. Mary hung the clothes on the bathroom door, and then made a quick, quiet search of the drawers in the room, but there was nothing resembling panties and a bra anywhere. And then something made her look in the garbage bin. They were there, right on top.