Falling for Dante (A Clean Slate Novel Book 2)

by DJ Hunnam

  "You've always been amazing to watch."

  He pulled back and gazed down at me with a smug grin. "You watched me?"

  "As much as it pains me to admit it, yes, I watched most of your games." At least a dozen times each.

  He chuckled and I rested my head on his shoulder, watching as the waves crashed white against the shore. Dante's chest rose and fell a few times while we sat in silence. It was peaceful and reminded me of all the good times we had shared as kids.

  "Remember that time we went to Lake Champlain?" Dante asked. "Damian rented that cabin with all those grotesque animals hanging above the fireplace. Stupid online advertisement failed to include a picture of that wall."

  "So creepy. I still see those unforgiving glass eyes in my nightmares," I said with a shudder.

  "At least it was right on the beach so we could escape the carnage of that cabin. And Damian and Amelia."

  "Oh God, don't remind me."

  "I think we biked across the causeway two dozen times to avoid hearing the two of them go at it," Dante mused. "And we watched the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy. Twice. At full volume."

  "Hey, there's nothing wrong with that."

  His shoulders shook as he laughed. "You still a hardcore fantasy fan?"

  I shrugged. My joy of reading had been another casualty of the last few years. "I haven't been reading much."

  Dante pulled back and looked at me aghast. "You were always such a bookworm." There was a hint of disappointment in his voice, and a pang of regret tore through me.

  "What about you? What are you reading right now?" I asked.

  "I'm into this post-apocalyptic trilogy."

  "And the source of the apocalypse?"

  "A militarized virus gone awry."

  "Of course," I said with a laugh. The fact Dante was an avid reader had always been more exciting than the ridges of his pecs or the contours of his abs. Back when we were on speaking terms, Dante and I had spent countless hours discussing books and arguing the merits of our genres of choice. "God, I've missed talking to you."

  The words slipped out before I could stop them.

  His hand tightened around my shoulder. "Yeah, me too."

  "I used to get so excited when you and Damian were coming home." It was the only time I hadn't felt alone in that huge house filled with my mother's criticisms. "It was like two brothers for the price of one," I joked.

  "And you were like the little sister I never had. Or wanted..."

  I stiffened in his arms, because while his words were playful and in response to mine, they ripped open a wound that I had allowed to fester for too long.

  "Is that how you always saw me? As a little sister?"

  He dropped his hand from my shoulder and scrubbed it down his face. "I think you know the answer to that. I tried my best to see you that way. But, I never did."

  "Then why the rejection?"

  "You were too perfect. Too pure. I didn't want to corrupt you," he replied, after downing the rest of his beer.

  I stood up and brushed the sand from my dress. I had been tainted, and while I respected Dante's protective sentiment, some silly part of me blamed him. If he hadn't rejected me, I never would have gone to New York and become a victim of that sadistic asshole.

  "I appreciate that, but all you did was set me up for something worse." Without waiting for his reply, I staggered back in the direction of the banquet hall.

  "What are you talking about?" Dante asked as he scrambled to his feet.

  "Nothing, never mind," I threw over my shoulder.

  "You can't throw that out and then say never mind," Dante said, grabbing my elbow and spinning me around to face him. "Erica, what happened?"

  Part of me wanted to tell him. But, I couldn't. I knew that if I did, it would ruin any chance we had at something more than a renewed friendship. And I wanted more, even if I pretended otherwise.

  "What would you do differently, if you could go back in time?" I asked. "Would you take just a taste and then go find someone else more experienced?"

  His eyes narrowed in confusion. "What?"

  "My cousin Claudia has been checking you out all night long. I'm sure she'd be more than willing to take my sloppy seconds."

  He pulled me closer and searched my eyes. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

  "I saw you that night," I hissed. "Fucking Keandra. I went to find you, to apologize, and guess what I heard? Your name being moaned. I couldn't help myself. I opened the door and saw her on top of you."

  He stumbled back a step, his eyes wide with disbelief. "I thought you left the party. Why did you wait five years to tell me that?"

  "It doesn't matter. But don't feed me bullshit excuses about saving me for something better. Because you didn't."

  Music filtered through the door to Erica's suite and I breathed a sigh of relief. I had been searching for her for the last hour. After our argument on the beach, she had disappeared, even though the reception was still in full swing. I knew she had no desire to talk about that night, but there was unresolved shit between us.

  After her revelation on the beach, all of her bitterness suddenly made sense. Her inability to forgive me hadn't been because of my refusal to take her virginity, but because she'd caught me fucking Keandra.

  I rested one arm on the door frame and knocked. After waiting thirty seconds, I knocked again, harder. Maybe she was in the shower. The thought sent blood straight to my dick. I heard footsteps pad across the floor and saw a shadow cross the peephole. I could almost see her chewing that lush bottom lip as she considered her options.

  "Erica, let me in," I demanded.

  "Go away, Dante."

  I was having fucking déjà vu. "Don't make me find your brother and tell him about this morning." It was a dick move, but I needed her to let me in.

  The door swung open. Erica was dressed in a lavender robe that fell above her knees, with wet tendrils of her hair framing her freshly scrubbed face. The faint outline of her nipples taunted me through the sheer fabric.

  "What do you want?"

  I glanced down because it was impossible not to stare at the swell of her breasts so blatantly on display.

  To lick every square inch of your body. Again, and again.

  I needed to get my hormones under control or I was going to fuck her up against the door before I'd even had a chance to apologize.

  "I just want to talk."

  "It doesn't look like you just want to talk." She giggled and gestured to the evidence pressing against my zipper.

  "Will you please let me in?"

  "I have nothing else to say to you."

  "I'm not leaving."

  She gestured me in with a sigh. "Haven't we said everything that needs to be said?"

  "No. We haven't. How long have you been smoking pot?"

  "Does it matter?" she asked in a flat tone.

  "Yeah, it does." I took an angry step forward, and fear flashed across her face. I stopped dead in my tracks and put my hands up to show her I meant no harm. "Erica, relax. I'm not going to hurt you."

  "I know." She unclenched her fists and tried to laugh it off, but an inkling of dread wallowed in the pit of my stomach. Had someone hurt her? Before I could ask, she walked to the sitting area and slumped down into a chair.

  I followed and sat opposite her, dragging my chair across the floor so that I was directly in front of her. She fidgeted with her hair and refused to look me in the eye. I was pretty sure that whatever was going on was far worse than I had originally suspected.

  I placed my hands on her bare knees. Using a finger under her chin, I forced her to look at me. The shame I saw in the depths of those blue eyes stole my breath away. "Babe, talk to me."

  Her eyes fluttered shut. When she opened them again, a steely resolve replaced the uncertainty from moments before. "I'm not some pothead, Dante. The cabana boy offered me a joint yesterday. Being here, with my parents... it's stifling. And with all of the crap going on with work, I can't breat
he."

  "What's going on with work?"

  She fiddled with the strap of her robe. "I'm leaving New York."

  "Where are you going?"

  "I'm moving to Seattle after I wrap up a few things in New York. Damian said I could move in with him for a few months. While I find a new place to live."

  "That's great." If she was in Seattle, then Damian and I could protect her. From herself and whatever else she seemed to be running from. Whether or not I could protect her from my perversions was another question altogether.

  She visibly relaxed, slumping back against the chair. I inched my hands higher, because I couldn't resist the smooth expanse of her thighs any longer. She placed her hands on mine and stopped me.

  The small tick of her heartbeat picked up speed in the few seconds we stared at each other. A light blush traveled from her chest, up her neck and into her face. It was only a matter of time before she caved. The only thing I knew better than a football field was a woman's body. Everything about hers was telling me she was ripe and ready for a good fucking.

  But we had unresolved shit to contend with.

  "Why didn't you tell me that you saw me with Keandra?"

  Her entire body tensed and I wished we didn't have to relive that night, except for the part in the bathroom.

  "If I could unsee it I would," she grumbled.

  "Erica..."

  "Because it wouldn't have changed anything."

  "At least I could have apologized."

  "For what? Not picking me?"

  "I didn't pick Keandra," I muttered.

  "It sure felt like it." She pushed my hands off her legs and stood up, pacing in front of me like a caged animal. "You told me that you didn't want a relationship. With anyone. Not only did you hop into bed with Keandra the same night you rejected me, but then you ended up in a relationship with her, a month later. Who does that?"

  I didn't have a good answer. I still wasn't sure why I had jumped onto the crazy train with Keandra. "I don't know. I'm sorry."

  "I want you to be honest with me. Why did you say no that night? Was it because you weren't attracted to me? I mean, I know I'm not your type."

  Was she for real? I gestured to the growing bulge in my pants. "I think we've established that I'm attracted to you."

  Her eyes narrowed, and she stopped pacing. "Then why?"

  "I didn't want you to regret giving me something that I didn't deserve. I was a horny twenty-three-year-old who would have fucked anything that walked on two legs. And did."

  "Except me," she said with a dejected sigh.

  "You have every right to be angry, but I never meant to hurt you. I was trying to protect you."

  "So, you fucked Keandra to protect me?"

  "No. Keandra was just a shitty substitute for you."

  "You don't have to say that," she murmured, disbelief etched on her face. It had always shocked me that a woman like Erica could struggle with feelings of inadequacy.

  I leaned over and rested my elbows on my thighs, pinning her in place with my gaze. If she needed me to stroke her ego, I had no problem with that. But, before this night was through, she would know just how desirable she really was.

  "I'm not just saying that. Do you know how many times I've wished I could redo that entire night? Or the number of times I've jerked off to the memory of your pussy? And you don't even want to know how many times I've imagined it was you when I've been balls deep in someone else."

  Words were the best kind of foreplay. Gaging from Erica's shallow breaths and the subtle way she clenched her thighs, my words had hit their mark. This was my motherfucking realm. And I was ready to lord over her body, if she'd allow it.

  "Are you still a virgin?"

  "Why does it matter?"

  "Because I need to know how easy to take it when I fuck you, babe."

  He was good. The wicked words he'd spewed had been like sending shots of electricity to an overloaded circuit. I thought I might explode if he kept taunting me.

  With a forced laugh, I placed one hand on my hip. "You assume the offer is still on the table, after all these years?"

  "I know the offer is still on the table." The man was arrogant, but he was absolutely right. If there were a table, I would have been spread out like a buffet. "I asked you a question, Erica." I hesitated for a second, but then I nodded. "Do you trust me?" he asked.

  "Yes." And in spite of everything, I did. He would never intentionally hurt me. And every fiber of my being knew he would make this as enjoyable as possible.

  "Then we do this my way, understand?" I swallowed down the nerves that bubbled up my throat and nodded. "Take your robe off."

  I blinked several times and remained motionless. He reclined in the chair and draped one arm over the back, watching me with one eyebrow cocked, like he was expecting me to dart out of the room any second. Part of me wanted to run, but a bigger part needed him to relieve the unbearable ache growing between my legs.

  I stared down at my red toenail polish while I tugged apart the two strands of fabric at my waist. The robe fell open, and before I lost my nerve, I forced it from my shoulders and to the ground. It gathered in a silky pool at my feet.

  Dante's hiss drew my gaze.

  "God, you're beautiful. How have you managed to go this long without being properly fucked?"

  "You don't have to feel sorry for me. I take care of my needs just fine."

  "Show me," he said with quiet authority. He crossed his long legs at the knee, his comfortable posture in sharp contrast to his dirty command.

  "What?" I squeaked out.

  "I want to watch you touch yourself."

  Burgeoning arousal erupted between my legs. I had never masturbated in front of a guy, and I wasn't about to start now. "That's not happening."

  "Don't be shy, Erica. There's nothing sexier than a woman who knows how to get herself off."

  I hesitated, because it seemed more intimate than sex.

  "Who's in charge?" He sounded so calm and collected that I wanted to scream. "Should I go?" He gestured to the door and started to rise from the chair.

  "Fine," I said, cheeks flaming. I walked to the bed and gave myself a silent pep talk before laying prone on the bed.

  There was no way I could look at Dante, so I clenched my eyes shut as I let my legs fall open. His groan rumbled all the way across the room and kissed my flushed skin. I could only imagine what I looked like spread out on that bed, but I forced it from my mind.

  Any self-consciousness I had disappeared the second I touched myself. I licked my dry lips and focused on the sensations I created with my fingertips. The knowledge that Dante watched only heightened the excitement.

  "Do you know how fucking sexy you are?" The low rumble of his voice next to my ear shocked me and I snapped my eyes open. I hadn't heard him move, but now he hovered over me. "Don't stop," he ordered.

  With deliberate motions that seemed meant only to entice, he removed his shirt and pants while I continued to touch myself. I stared at the sleek lines of his chest and the defined ripples of his abs. I trailed my free hand up and over the hard ridges of his torso, loving the way his muscles shuddered under my fingertips.

  "Do you imagine me fucking you when you make yourself come?"

  "Yes," I whispered. Dante's smile gleamed in the dim light as his eyes licked over every inch of my body.

  He ran a finger through the glossy apex of my sex, moaning his approval. Raising his hand to his mouth, he tasted me, eyes fluttering shut like I was the most delicious thing on the planet. His fingers found my pussy again, playing beside my own.

  "You're so wet. I can't wait to have you wrapped tight around me." I could have come from his words, alone, but then he thrust a finger inside me, and my hips exploded off the bed.

  "I'm going to come."

  "Not yet," he murmured, so confident I almost whined. He stroked me several times, his eyes never wavering from mine, as if he were memorizing every subtle change in my facial expression
. When he found my most sensitive spot, I moaned, my head falling back against the pillow. "Do you like that?"

  "Yes. Please. I need to come." Ignoring my plea, he continued to tease me with his finger while he dipped down and sucked my nipple into his mouth. His tongue circled the tip, tugging it taut between his lips. I writhed beneath him, my hands falling to my sides to grip the sheets. "I want you inside of me, Dante."

  "We have all night, and I plan on being inside of you most of it. But, I have to get you ready, or I'm going to hurt you."

  It made sense. I did my best to relax while Dante worked me over with his finger and mouth. When he thrust a second finger inside me, I came apart. My hips and butt tensed with the force of the orgasm, spasm after spasm forcing his fingers deeper.

  Before I had even stopped shaking, he dove between my legs, sucking my still-pulsing nub into his mouth. I cried out and tried to push him away, but he gripped my hips, unwilling to relinquish his hold.

  "Better than I remembered," he hummed between my legs. He softened his touch, flicking me with tender strokes that had me building towards another orgasm within seconds.

  My guttural cry drowned out the soft music playing in the background as a second, more powerful rush of sensation overcame me. Dante pulled back and watched from between my legs as I shook and twitched with the force of my second orgasm.

  "I could watch you come every second of every day, for the rest of my life, and it still wouldn't be enough."

  My cheeks were on fire. Dante had brought me to orgasm, twice, in a matter of minutes. Before I could ponder it further, he crawled up my body, licking and nipping, leaving a trail of heat in his wake. By the time he reached my lips, I was a trembling mass of renewed need.

  Lush eyelashes framed his tar-black eyes, and he gazed at me with such intensity I had to force myself not to look away. The hard bulge of his cock pressed against me through the thin fabric of his boxers and a prickling of fear tore through me. He must have seen the panic on my face because he shushed me with a soft kiss.