Page 221 of Bitter Poetry

“I’ll leave you two to talk,” she says, rising from her chair.

Mateo clears his throat behind me. “Yeah. I had better… find somewhere to sleep.”

“I can show him,” Jessica says.

Her cheeks are a little flushed. I’m instantly suspicious about what the two women were talking about.

“Thank you,” I say. I’m more interested in getting Carmela alone than pursuing whatever was going on. “Time for bed, Carmela.”

She nods. “How is Christian? Is he… here?” She glances toward the door.

“It’s been a long day. He probably shouldn’t have gone with me, but he insisted, and I relented. He took some pain pills and is staying with Leon, but wanted me to come and check on you. He’s doing okay and just needs the rest… Have you drunk enough water today?”

She rolls her eyes. “Really, Dante, you’re checking how much water I’ve had?”

I smile, take her hand and pull her up from the seat. And then, because I can’t fucking help myself, I draw her into my arms and kiss her.

Her lips part with a moan. So soft. So inviting. My tongue sweeps straight inside, and I taste her, deepening the kiss. Her fingers sink into my suit jacket, clinging. My hand slides down to her ass, anchoring her to me, my other hand in her hair holding her still.

I’m hard in an instant.

Ready to put her on the floor and fuck her.

No one would stop me. This is my house, and she is mine.

But I have something to do first, so, reluctantly, I lift my lips.

She blinks up at me, her lips swollen from the kiss. She’s so beautiful. Sometimes looking at her almost hurts. I’m still dealing with what happened, grappling with the terror of nearly losing her. Christian is right. We need to protect her from everything, including herself.

“I’ll bring some water up.”

“Thank you.”

Her eyes slide away, reminding me there are unresolved matters between us: guilt, regrets, self-recriminations. Her father’s question about Christian still lingers in my mind.

I watch her go. My hands are shaking faintly. I’ve already stepped over lines with her. What’s one more?

All I know is that I can’t live through losing her again. Not if there are alternatives. We’re still on heightened alert and likely will be for months, maybe years; it could take decades before this is resolved, and I need her to be safe.

I find what I need in the medicine cabinet. Then I take a bottle of water from the refrigerator and add five drops into it. When I go upstairs, I find her in Christian’s room, about to get into bed, wearing one of his T-shirts.

I hand her the water bottle. She must be thirsty because she unscrews the cap, tips her head back, and drinks half of it.

Good girl.

She slips into the bed, blushing like she’s not the same woman who was sucking Christian’s cock this morning while I fucked her from behind.

“I won’t be long.”

Closing the bathroom door, I empty everything from my pockets onto the vanity. My dick is stone hard just thinkingabout what I’m going to do. I ignore it and step into the shower. No need to rush. It will take a while for what I gave her to kick in.

By the time I return to the bedroom, she’s flat on her back, eyes closed with the covers pooled at her waist.

“Carmela?”

Nothing. My pulse rate kicks up. I walk over to her and ease the covers further down.

Her chest continues to rise and fall, but otherwise there is no reaction.