I push away from the wall, ignoring Allie’s quiet whimper when Adam lowers his gun the second I walk into his line of fire. I kiss Dante’s cheek, holding my lips there longer than a simple greeting requires.
It isn’t a simple greeting.
Nothing about us is simple.
“What took you so long?” The fear his presence evoked last night is absent tonight. I’m at ease. It didn’t cross my mind he’d look for me; that he’d find me but teasing him might be my new favorite game.
He drapes one arm over my shoulders, pulling me to his side, and his lips brush against my ear. “Stop sassing, or I’ll gag you,” he whispers, then looks over his shoulder. “Relax, Adam. She’s in good hands.”
He opens the passenger’s side door, letting me in his car. I get comfortable while Adam steps from one foot to the other, eyes jumping between Dante and me.
“You know I can’t let you take her, Carrow. Frank will lose his shit when he finds out. Layla, get back here.”
“She wants to come, so she’s coming. You can try to force her out of the car if you’re ready to bleed.”
Adam takes a few steps forward, and Allie’s hands fly to her mouth, fear etched in her eyes.
“You’re stalling,” I say, summoning Dante’s attention. “It’s my birthday. I expect a drink before the day ends.”
He checks the time on his wristwatch, and thirty seconds later, Adam’s only visible in the rear-view mirror.
CHAPTER FOUR
Dante
We’re only half a mile from the restaurant, but running out of time, I slam the brake, stopping the car in the middle of the road despite the lights turning green at the junction ahead. I’m about to break a promise for the first time in my fucking life, but my word is the last thing on my mind as I round the car. I open the passenger’s side door, dragging Layla outside, no longer an ounce of patience left in me. There’s only feral, uncontainable anticipation. I don’t give her the time to push me away.
I cup her face, dip my head, and catch her lips with mine. Fuck... she tastes like everything that’s right with this world. Like sunshine, rainbows, and candy.
Adrenaline throbs in my limbs, sending a fit of shivers down my back. I slip my tongue inside the silk of her mouth, tasting her sweetness, fucking drunk on her already. The delicate touch of tiny hands grasping my neck titillates my nerve-endings like a live wire.
This isn’t cute or tender. Not how I imagined it’d be. Not how I wanted Layla’s first kiss to be, but there’s nothing I can do about the burning, primal need that consumes us both. Her floral scent, sweet lips, and the soft whimper escaping her strip me of any inhibitions I hoped to have.
I fucking devour her, pulling her closer. She grips a handful of my jacket, pressing herself to my chest; enough power in her kiss to light up downtown.
The cool evening air fills with blaring horns, but I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop. Fulfilling her wish is the most gratifying moment of my twenty-eight years. Merciless desire churns in the pit of my stomach when her fingertips ghost across my jaw. With that delicate touch, the kiss evolves... slows... deepens.
And I want more.
So much more.
Layla trembles in my arms, her body frail, hinting at the reaction I can expect when she’ll lay naked, spread-eagled on my bed, moaning, gasping, coming on my lips.
A deafening blare of a truck’s horn pierces the air, towering above other sounds. Layla flinches, moving away, but I’m not ready to let her go. Not yet.
Pulling out my gun, I aim at the incessant noise. It stops immediately, and all the other horns with it. We’re blocking the largest junction within a few blocks, so the drivers have every right to be pissed off.
Too bad I only care about the hungry-for-my-lips pretty little bug clinging to me for dear life. She’s not acting cool. Not by a long shot. She seizes the moment, taking handfuls of what I offer.
It’s fucking adorable.
I pull away, close her lips, peck her nose, and step back, loving how flustered she looks. “Happy Birthday, Star.”
She blinks twice, coming out of the haze, lips opening and closing as if too many words pile into a traffic jam on the tip of her tongue. There’s no escaping the ache shining in her eyes.
I kiss her again, groaning when I finally bite her lower lip. I’ve thought about it since last night, but imagination can’t compare to reality. Layla drapes one hand over my neck, forcing me closer. She’s on me like duct tape. I’d need to tug hard to break away, but a moment later, she inches back with a quiet, satisfied sigh.
Thank fuck for that. We’d be here until the police would arrive to have us removed because I sure wouldn’t find it in me to push her away.