I pushed him away from me, hating how good it felt to be in his arms. It shouldn’t be that way. It shouldn’t feel good, because loving him would make me lose the biggest part of me in the end.
Harshly, I wiped at the tears on my face. “I fucked up, Dante. Because of me, everyone I love is at risk. I’m the weakest fucking link. Can’t you see that?”
“Layla, how the fuck am I supposed to see or understand anything when you tell me nothing? It’s like solving a fucking Rumpelstiltskin riddle, for Christ’s sake.”
“I can’t…I can’t do this. I have to leave.”
I grabbed my dirty clothes off the floor when Dante grabbed me around my waist. “You are not going anywhere.”
“Let me go!” I kicked and screamed, my desperation to save him and my craving to poison myself taking control of every emotion, every action. “Let me go, Dante!”
I continued to fight, thrashing fists and legs and feet against him until he managed to toss me on the bed. Like a wild animal, I tried to scamper away, but he grabbed my ankle and pulled me while turning me on my back.
I was no match for his strength as he pinned my arms above my head and straddled me. “I told you, you’re going fucking nowhere.”
“I don’t want to be here with you. I can’t.”
“Yes, you can!” His voice roared through the room, the echo slamming against the plastered walls.
“How can you want me here after what I did to you? Why don’t you hate me?”
“I don’t fucking know!”
Immediately, I stopped fighting him, our eyes fixed on one another.
“I don’t know, Layla.” He tightened his grip around my wrists. “Yes, you hurt me. Yes, you ripped my motherfucking heart out. Yes, I’ve never been the same since you left. And yes, I probably should hate you. I should fucking hate you…but I don’t.” He breathed out. “I wish I did. I wish I did hate you because it would have made everything so much easier. But I fucking don’t.” He shifted, his firm thighs keeping me in place. “I don’t hate you, Layla. Goddammit! If anything, I still love you.”
My heart stopped beating. My blood stilled inside my veins. All I heard were his words, his deep breathing. And all I felt was the familiar crackle of electricity around us, the sexually-laden atmosphere that always surrounded us, replacing all the oxygen.
“I still fucking love you.” His grip loosened slightly, his dark gaze never leaving mine. “I still love you, Layla Moore.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. It was like my mind couldn’t make sense of it, so I made a last lame-ass attempt to fight his hold. But he only kept me in place, his chest rapidly rising and falling while his face leaned down closer to mine. “I. Love. You.”
And then the veil of resistance finally tore in two as I lost the last ounce of self-control I had left. I pushed myself up as far as I could, and he met me halfway, our lips crashing together like two dark clouds of thunder. Within a split second we were all hands, and lips, and kisses, and moans. We wanted to devour each other in a single moment, leaving nothing untouched, unexplored. I surrendered fully. He consumed me completely. And we ravished each other wholly…just like it had always been.
Two strong hands palmed my breasts, earning a loud moan from my lips as my body burned from his touch. He squeezed and tugged my nipples, causing me to arch my back, wanting to feel him against me. I needed his heat to thaw the ice that had occupied my heart for so long.
“Tell me this is okay, Layla.” Hard, heady kisses fell from his lips onto the skin of my neck. “Tell me you’re still mine to touch, to kiss.”
My body was nothing but sensation and desire as I wrapped my arms around him, weaving my fingers through his ink black hair. I was transported back in time, reliving all the moments we shared together—moments like this.
With both hands, he pressed my breasts together, his tongue slipping down and licking through the slit of flesh.
“Dante—”
“I need to hear you say you’re still mine. Tell me you’re still mine to make love to.” He looked up at me. “Tell me you’re still mine to fuck.” He took a hard nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirling around it, sucking, lapping, and kissing. “I remember every moment, Layla. I remember how you loved being cherished, worshipped. How you desired to be thoroughly fucked, and utterly used.”
“Fuck, Dante,” I whispered, his words causing a frenzy of lust and need crashing against every corner of my body. I bucked my hips in search of him, the ache between my legs growing stronger with every stroke of his tongue and every touch of his hand. His lips let go of my nipple with a pop, and when he looked back up at me, his hand slipped in between us. “Say it, Layla.” And then he touched me, his fingers sliding through the sensitive folds of my pussy, sending the most intense wave of lust up my spine, my entire body electrified.
“Jesus, Layla,” he moaned. “Your body is begging to be fucked.”
“Dante…” I started to plead.
“Say it first. Tell me you’re mine.”
Deep down, I knew I never stopped being his in the first place. Not a day went by that I didn’t think of him, of us, of how my heart still belonged to him. It was the worst kind of torture knowing he was out there in the world, building a life without me.
“Say it, Layla.”