Big Aunty's first move

Dante returned from the bar to find Cassandra in the bathroom. Steam curled around her like a veil. Her hands were deep in the sink, the water stained pink.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice rough with curiosity.

She held up the sheet. The stain was dark, rust-colored. Her blood. From last night. From the moment she'd given him everything. The evidence of her surrender.

Dante stared. His throat tightened. "How did you carry that?"

She shrugged, her cheeks flushing. "Girls' things."

He stepped closer, his brow furrowed. "You should have trashed it. You didn't have to suffer washing it."

Cassandra shook her head, her fingers gripping the wet fabric. "I wanted to wash it. My blood. My choice. I didn't want anyone else to see it."

Something in his chest cracked open. The cold, controlled man he'd been for years melted away. His eyes softened. His hand found her waist, pulling her close.

"Last night," he murmured, his voice low and reverent. "It was everything."

She looked away, her fingers fidgeting with the wet fabric. "Did you reach your mother?"

His mood shifted. He stepped behind her, his hands sliding around her waist, pulling her back against his chest. His lips brushed her ear.

"My baby," he whispered. "You were so beautiful. I can't stop thinking about it."

Her pulse quickened. She turned in his arms, her breath catching. "D, we have a problem. This isn't the time—"

"Every time is the right time." He pulled her closer, his mouth finding hers. Soft at first. Then deeper. More demanding. "Except when you're tired. Or when you don't want me."

She melted into him. His lips. His touch. The heat of his body pressing against hers. She didn't want to think about his mother. About his aunt. About the letter. She just wanted him.

"I want you," she breathed. "Always."

Someone knocked. Dante cursed under his breath, pulling away. He opened the door, grabbed the tray of food, and locked it behind him.

He dropped the tray on the table, then turned to her, his eyes dark with hunger.

"Let me taste you again."

She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. He reached for her zipper—

His phone rang.

Cassandra reached into his trousers pocket, her fingers brushing against him. She felt him tense under her touch. She smiled. She always smiled when she felt the effect she had on him.

Dante answered without checking the caller.

"Javensin Hotel," his aunt's voice blared through the speaker.

Dante smiled—not from the call, but from Cassandra's hand, now resting against him beneath his trousers. 

"I know you sent those idiots to follow us," he said coolly. "Good night, Big Aunty."

He ended the call. Cassandra was already close, her skin glowing in the dim light.

---

He undressed her with his eyes, then his hands. He lifted her onto the table, settling between her legs.

"Just cake?" she asked, glancing at the tray.

"I ordered it for you. I do not want to eat this evening." 

His hand reach for the cake, he fed her a piece, his thumb brushing her lip. She took it, her tongue darting out to taste the sweetness.

Then he sat down, motioning for her to come to him. His hands found her, holding her close. She ate. She drank. His touch was everywhere.

"Dante—" His name fell from her lips like a prayer. Like a plea.

His mouth found her neck. His hands held her. The world narrowed to just them.

_*_

When it was over, he carried her to the bed, his body covering hers. He held her close, and she gasped—overwhelmed. She adjusted, melting into him.

"It's okay," he whispered. "I've got you."

They moved together. Her legs shook. He kept holding her, lost in her. 

_*_

He collapsed beside her, then pulled her close, kissing her gently. She was too weak to move. He covered her, held her, and fell asleep.

---

Dante woke later. He went to the bathroom, wrung out the sheet, and poured the water away.

He didn't understand where the urge came from. He couldn't control it. She was like a drug in his veins, and he was addicted.

He woke her. "I need you."

She stirred, groggy. "Dante—"

His hands found her. She was warm. She was ready. He climbed beside her.

"I'm too weak—"

He didn't hear. He held her, drawing her close until he was lost again. And then, finally, he slept.