Sweetest Sorrow (Forbidden Book 2) (34 page)

"You better," Alfie said. "Because my Gabby, she's quick to pull the trigger, and I mean that in every way imaginable. She makes decisions in a snap. She jumps in headfirst but doesn't always look at what she's diving into, and that can get her in trouble.
Big
trouble."

"I can hear you guys, you know," she yelled, banging against the window with her fist, but the men ignored her, continuing with their conversation.

"She doesn't scare easily these days," Alfie said, "but she isn't bulletproof. I don't think she realizes that."

"Yes, I do," she grumbled, swinging her legs over the center console, careful not to jab any buttons or kick any knobs, and climbed over onto the driver's side, that door still open.

"So you need to keep that danger
far
away from my daughter. You keep it where it can't touch her. You got me?"

Gabriella jumped out of the car. "I can take care of myself."

"I got you," Dante said, walking around to the other side of the car, his gaze on Gabriella. "Get back in the car."

"Or
what
?"

"Or I guess we stay here."

Oh, ugh
,
no thanks.

Gabriella got back in the car and climbed over to the passenger side instead of going around. Her father tapped on the window, garnering her attention as she put on her seatbelt. Cautiously, she turned that way, looking him right in the eyes through the tinted glass.

"You and I are going to be having a conversation about this," he said. "Just as soon as I figure out what the hell I'm supposed to do about it."

Ugh
.
Ugh
.
Ugh
.

Dante didn't waste any time driving away. He relaxed once he was away from Brazzi property, tearing off his tie and wrangling out of his suit coat as he sped through New Jersey, discarding the clothes in the small space behind his seat as he blasted the heat.

"Did you
have
to tell him we were living together?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because he asked."

She scowled. "It's not like he's your boss."

"No, but he is your father," Dante said. "Look, I walked in there today with two strikes already against me. I can't afford a third strike, so if he asks me something, I'm answering. I don't care what it is. If the man wants to know how big my dick is, I'll offer to measure it for him."

"Well,
boo
on that."

Dante laughed but said nothing else, the drive back to Little Italy quiet. Finding no street parking, he pulled the car into a nearby garage, securing it, before the two of them strolled down the sidewalk to the apartment. Gabriella slipped her hand into his, holding it as they walked. His fingertips were ice cold.

"I always loved this neighborhood," Gabriella said, surveying the splattering of red, white, and green all around the buildings. Street vendors opened up shop on the corners where small one-way streets weaved together, merging with bigger traffic, creating a continual flow of people.

"That makes one of us," Dante muttered. "Too much has happened for me to see anything but the bad."

"I know, but you shouldn't blame the whole neighborhood for the acts of two men."

"It was more than two men. A lot of us contributed."

"What did I tell you in the hospital? About playing someone else's game?"

"You have to play by their rules."

"Exactly." Gabriella bumped against him as they stalled in front of the market below the apartment. "You know how my father always wins?"

"How?"

"Sleight of hand."

Dante turned to face her. "Are you suggesting I cheat? What happened to little miss
'gotta play by their rules'
from a second ago?"

"I'm not suggesting you
cheat
," she said. "I'm just suggesting you manipulate the outcome a bit."

"In other words, cheat."

She laughed. "It's another gray area. If you don't get caught, is it really cheating?"

"I don't know," he said. "If I fuck another woman and you don't catch me, did I cheat?"

She flinched at that, a surge of jealousy stirring inside of her. "You better not."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"Good, because even
dreaming
of it is all kinds of wrong," she said. "Besides, all I'm saying is that when the odds are stacked against you, you should consider maybe changing the odds."

"Easier said than done."

"Nobody said it would be
easy
," she said. "But it just might keep you on top."

"Well, that's a certainly a good position to be in." Dante smiled a bit as he leaned over, kissing her. "Although, you know, I kind of enjoy
you
being on top."

"You're changing the subject."

"I am," he admitted as he kissed her again, whispering against her mouth, "because I'd much rather talk about that."

She kissed him back, wrapping her arms around his neck, barely having enough time to get into it when a loud commotion disrupted them from across the street. Angry shouts echoed through the neighborhood, brash enough to raise alarm over the usual city chaos. Scathing voices hurled insults as people ran, others swarming the area in front of the bar. Gabriella pulled away from Dante, glancing over just in time to see fists flying, a fight spilling out into the street, a guy in a red shirt pummeling somebody.

"Come on, it's cold. Let's go inside," Dante said at once, whipping out his freshly acquired keys and unlocking the door to the building, dragging her inside before she could get a good look at what was happening. He kept his head down, his footsteps hurried.

"I'm guessing you know those guys?"

"Unfortunately."

"Who are they?"

"Barsantis," he said. "Galantes."

"Ah." She eyed him warily as they walked up the stairs. "You sure you don't want to go see what's going on?"

"I know what's going on," he said. "They're beating the fuck out of each other. Nothing new. I can't tell you how many times I've gotten into it with someone in this neighborhood, how many bar fights I've been involved in across the street. Hell, I'm pretty sure I got my ass kicked in front of your building a few months ago."

Dante walked up to the apartment door, unlocking it before motioning for her to go inside. She paused in the doorway, raising her eyebrows, feigning shock. "You got your butt kicked?
You
?"

"Don't go getting excited—the ass-kicking was mutual. It usually is. That's just how it goes. They'll hit each other until they get tired of it, and then they'll go on their way, back to their separate corners, and start plotting the next time they're going to come out swinging. Same shit, different day. Now, will you go in the apartment, or do I have to keeping standing out here in the hall, explaining this to you?"

She didn't budge. "Testy, are we?"

"A bit," he admitted, grasping her hips and forcing her into the apartment since she wasn't moving on her own. He stepped in behind her, relocking the door.

"Understandable, I guess, since it's been a stressful day," she said, following him as he walked to the bedroom, watching as he kicked off his shoes and set them beside the dresser. Even with her stuff strewn about, he made sure his stuff had a proper place, always cleaning up after himself. Sometimes she wondered how
at home
he felt there. He seemed to always be preparing for the worst, still taking it day-by-day, like every morning he woke up expecting to be on his own again. It wasn't that she questioned his feelings for her, no… she questioned his
confidence
. For someone so formidable, Dante certainly thought little of himself, like he wasn't worthy.

It baffled Gabriella, because if time had shown her anything, it was that Dante Galante was a beautiful force of nature.

Dante plopped down on the edge of the bed, sighing. "I had my life threatened by two powerful men today—men who probably won't hesitate to kill me—while I breathed the same air as a man who previously
has
tried to kill me… more than once. And then we get home, and I see the asshole that stabbed me…
more than once
… beating the shit out of a guy I used to consider one of my closest friends. And while I probably should've stepped in, because God knows he's taken a lot of hits for me over the years, I walked away. So I wouldn't call that a
stressful day
. I'd call it a fucked up one."

She frowned. "I didn't know."

"I know you didn't. And I'm sorry for being so touchy. None of this is your fault. I shouldn't take it out on you."

"I can take it."

"You shouldn't have to."

"I don't mind," she said, strolling toward him. "Besides, I might like it, you being so…
rough
."

His eyes shifted to her. "Don't do that."

"Don't do what?" she asked, using her foot to force his legs apart further so she could stand between them. "Don't change the subject like that, you mean?"

"Yes," he said. "I'm trying to apologize and you're fucking with my head."

Gabriella ran her hands through his hair. "That sounds like a good idea."

Dante's brow furrowed, like he was trying to riddle out what she meant, but she didn't give him the chance. She dropped to her knees, unzipping his pants. Dante stared at her in stunned silence as she reached into his boxers and stroked him, getting him rock hard, before taking him into her mouth. The moment her tongue came into contact with his flesh, he let out a groan, his head lolling back as he closed his eyes.

Gabriella sucked as his hands settled on the back of her head. He didn't push her, didn't force her, merely holding onto her as she took him down her throat. It went on for a minute or so, not long at all, before Dante forced her mouth off of him. She looked up, confused,
dejected
, until she noticed his strained expression.

"Do you?" he asked.

"Do I what?"

"Do you like it rough?"

Oh
. "Maybe."

"Don't
maybe
me. It's got to be one way or the other. True or false, Gabriella."

"Well, then… true."

"Seriously?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't know."

"You should've told me."

She looked from him down to his lap. "Did you really stop me so we could talk? We're seriously going to talk while I'm, like… holding it?"

"You're not fucking with me, are you?" he asked, ignoring her question. "You're not just telling me what you think I want to hear?"

"Of course not."

Before Gabriella could say another word, Dante pulled her completely off of him, nearly knocking her down as he stalked out of the bedroom.
What the freak?

"Where are you going?" she called after him.

"Hold on," he yelled. "Don't move."

She ignored that, standing up to follow him.

Dante stepped out of the bathroom, eyebrows raised. "Didn't I just tell you to not move?"

"My
boyfriend
," she said, pointing at him. "Not my boss."

He held up a condom. "Had to get one of these."

"Oh."

"Because, you see," he said, stepping to her, not stopping, backing her up into the bedroom again. "I've been dying to fuck you senseless—that back-breaking, heart-stopping, pussy-aching kind of fucking that makes you forget how to speak, how to think, how to
breathe
…"

"Oh," she said again, this time breathless, heat rushing through her, flushing her cheeks and pooling in her gut, an ache stirring up. "You want to…?"

"I've been taking it easy," he said, "and if you're telling me I don't have to, that I can fuck you the way I've been yearning to fuck you, then you're goddamn right I
want
to."

The back of her legs hit the edge of the bed. He stood right in front of her, eye-level while still in her heels.

"I can take it," she whispered. "If you can dish it."

The second those words were from her lips, Dante grabbed her, dragging her onto the bed. Gone was the soft grip, the slowly tracing fingertips, the gentle lips, replaced by strong hands and a rough kiss. She'd seen little glimpses of his passion all along, but he'd kept it locked up for the most part. Maybe he hadn't wanted to scare her. Maybe he'd been afraid to hurt her. But she wasn't afraid, and unless the ache between her thighs counted, she wasn't in agony, either.

This was the Dante that faced death and survived, the Dante that had been tortured and persevered. The Dante that fought, that endured. The Dante that never buckled, no matter what.

She longed for that Dante.

She longed for
all
of him.

Dante flipped her over onto her stomach, the condom wrapper crinkling as he ripped it open, rolling it on. An arm snaked beneath her, snatching her hips up off the bed as he shoved her dress up.

"Fuck." His voice was a strained whisper as his hand ran over her bare cheek, roughly squeezing it. "I forgot you weren't wearing underwear."

Tingles coursed through Gabriella, rippling down her spine as she arched her back, letting out a soft moan when he pushed inside of her. He gripped onto her, holding her in place as he slid in and out, moving excruciatingly slow, pausing with just the tip touching before pushing back in. Over and over, again and again, until she
was
in agony, until she squirmed, desperate for more, on the verge of begging. "What are you
doing
?"

"Watching."

"Watching what?"

"Myself disappearing inside of that gorgeous pussy."

"Can you watch yourself do it a little harder?"

"I could."

He kept his tormenting pace—if anything, moving slower, lingering longer before pushing back in. She tried to shove back against him but he kept his grip on her, controlling the pace. "Dante…"

"Tell me what you want, baby."

"You," she said. "
More
of you."

"You've already got all of me."

"Ugh, please," she whined. "Harder. Faster. You're supposed to be,
ugh
…"

"Fucking you? Is that what you mean?"

"Yes!"

"Tell me you want me to fuck you and I will."

"I want you to."

"Want me to
what
?"