Chapter 122 Possessive Asshole
Isabella POV
We lay in bed together at two in the afternoon. It was a Saturday, so people were off of work and school but since it was raining, everyone was inside to stay dry.
We hadn’t eaten since we woke up and the food I made hours ago was stale and cold by now.
He made good on his word and dumped so much come inside me that it wouldn’t fit. It dripped out of me and stained the sheets, making my bed smell like his cologne, sex, and his arousal.
He held me to his chest as he lay on his side, his eyes staring into me, his expression cold and indecipherable. His fingers moved up my thigh and to my ass before they retreated once more. His cock was limp because we’d just finished making love for the fifth time that day.
After he’d dragged me out of the kitchen, we hadn’t said a word to each other, other than me saying his name in bed and him calling me baby.
A month of our being apart had passed but now it seemed like it had never happened. We’d always been together even when we were apart.
“I want to ask you something....”
“No.” He silenced me with the single word, his eyes telling me not to test him. “You don’t know what I was going to ask.....”
“Yes, I do and no, I haven’t slept with anyone.”
Okay…maybe he did know what I was going to ask. “That woman I met at the bar was my first real attempt and I would have gone through with it if you hadn’t changed your mind.”
He was always honest with me, even when he knew it would hurt me. “You better have meant what you said last night because now you can’t leave. I won’t let you.”
My hand glided up his hard chest and to his muscular shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Good.” He moved his mouth to the valley between my breasts and kissed me there, his tongue gliding against my warm skin as he moved to my neck. “Because I’ll chain you up if I have to. I’ll kidnap you and take you somewhere you’ll never be found again.”
“I find that hard to believe, you won’t even get out of this bed.”
The corner of his mouth rose in a smile, in that playful way that gave him a hint of boyish charm. “Good point.” He rolled on top of me and kissed my neck more, his mouth gliding up to my ear where he kissed the shell. “Now
I need food.”
“It’s sitting on the kitchen counter.”
He chuckled into my ear canal. “Even if it were fresh, I still wouldn’t eat that shit.”
I smacked his arm playfully. “Come on, I’m not that bad.”
“When you’re making a sandwich, maybe.” He left the bed and pulled on his boxers. When he reached his full height, he looked like a Greek god sculpted out of stone. He was the virtual epitome of what masculinity was. He was all man, from his hard scalp to his large feet. “You’re an asshole.”
He gave me that charming smile again before he left the bedroom and I lay there for a few minutes, feeling a wave of happiness I hadn’t felt in a long time. Our relationship was different now since all previous pretenses
had been dropped and I didn’t see him as the man who captured me in the middle of the night and almost killed me. I hardly saw him as Dante anymore. I just saw him as the man I’d fallen stupidly in love with.
I pulled on his t-shirt and a fresh pair of underwear before I walked into the kitchen.
He’d thrown away everything I’d made that morning and started over. He whipped up scrambled eggs, a few slices of bacon, and got the pan ready for the pancake batter.
I leaned against the counter and watched him, holding a mug of coffee in my hands. I stared at his sculpted back and watched him move and work, his hard definition sexy. Only a man with a deep commitment to weight lifting could look like that. When I lived with him down the road, he went to the gym every morning.
Only when he stayed here with me did he skip
his routine. He kept his back to me, but he seemed aware of my stare. “Like what you
see?”
My gaze shifted to his ass in his boxers. “Always.”
He poured the batter into the pan and got to work. “Instead of staring, how about you give me a hand?”
“I thought you said I was incapable of making anything?” I challenged. “Not under my supervision.”
I came to his side, and we worked together to make breakfast. Everything came out perfectly, he dished up the food onto the plates and then
carried them to the coffee table in the living room. We both sat on the ground, listening to the rain pound outside the window.
Dante was concentrated on his food as he ate, scarfing everything down like he was starving.
I took my time, having an appetite but not enough to stop staring at the man sitting across from me.
“Pack your things when we’re done. We’re staying at my place.”
“What’s wrong with my apartment?”
He grabbed his mug with a single large hand. “For starters, it doesn’t have a dining table.”
“You got me there…what else?”
“You have neighbors.”
“They’re quiet.”
“I still don’t want anyone to listen to me fuck you.”
“No one does.”
“And I don’t like the neighborhood, it's not safe enough.”
“That fucker rode the elevator directly into your apartment…”
“Different situation and also, my place is packed with weapons, you’ve got nothing here.”
“Why do I need weapons when I have you?”
He steadied his mug, staring at me with an expression that suddenly turned more serious.
“I prefer solitude, a sanctuary equipped to handle a siege. At the lake, we’re off the map. The house is enormous, we have someone
to wait on us, I can continue my work, and you can continue your paintings.”
When he told me to pack my things, I assumed we were going to his place in Rome, not staying at his place two hours away. “I can’t go back to the lake.”
“I don’t remember asking you.” He drank from his mug and set it down.
From the moment I came back to him, he became more possessive of me than before. Now he felt like he owned me, like he could control me more than he could when I was his prisoner.
“I can’t be two hours away. My family stops by all the time, and I have no way to explain why I’m around that lake .”