“Well, I hate to break it to you, but you’ve been saying it in your sleep.”
He pulls back and looks at me. “Have I?”
I twist my lips to the side. “A couple of times.”
“It doesn’t count if I’m not conscious,” he murmurs, softly pecking my lips with his.
“Is that what you told yourself the other week? That it didn’t count because you weren’t awake?”
My tone is teasing, but he pulls his face away again and looks down at me. “At first. But as the days went on,” he starts, brushing his thumb across my lower lip, “I realized that I’d never get to experience what it would feel like the first time I sank deep into your cunt. I’d never get to see your face the first time you came on my cock. I’ll never know how fuckinggoodit must’ve felt as I came inside of you after waiting to do it for two years. So yes. Maybe I did tell myself that at first, but now I wish I’d been fully conscious. Fully awake.” His eyes drag down to my lips. “I don’t want to regret saying it in my sleep or missing out. I love you, Frankie.”
My lips purse with satisfaction. “I never thought I’d say this, but I actually think I prefer the way you say ‘Francesca.’”
He rolls his eyes before capturing my lips with his again. “So fucking infuriating,” he murmurs, carrying me over to the bed. Gently lowering me onto the mattress, he unwraps my legs from his waist as he looks down at me. “Are you feeling okay? Nausea,headache, fatigue? Do you need anything? Water, juice, coffee—but not too much?—”
“I’m okay.”
I expected a possessive Dante, but I did not expect a doting Dante. Somehow, knowing this is the same serious man I used to hate three weeks ago only makes it even more strange.
He must sense my hesitation, because he smirks before dropping to his knees on the side of the bed.
“What are you?—”
He grabs my ankles and slowly begins to remove my leggings. He doesn’t break eye contact as he drags the fabric down my hips, tugging them until they’re discarded off to the side somewhere. Hooking one finger around my underwear, he removes those too—every brush of his fingers against my skin sends goosebumps down my legs. When I’m completely bare to him, he leans forward. I expect him to use his tongue, but instead, he places a kiss on my lower stomach.
I swallow thickly, unsure if I’m going to cry again. My lower lip quivers as he places another kiss against my skin, and then he lays his head down softly on top of me, facing me and watching me with such reverence that it makes my heart skip a beat. I start to breathe heavily, unsure if I’m capable of getting enough oxygen. His expression issoadoring—like he’d worship me as his goddess if he could.
It’s intimate, andreal.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
“Just thinking about the fact that you’re pregnant,” he murmurs, smiling.
It’s his real smile—wide, bright, joyful.
“It’s all your fault,” I taunt.
“I know.” He sighs. “I guess I’ll have to move in now. Officially.”
I sit up quickly, using my elbows to look down at him. “What?!”
“My realtor is ready to list my house whenever I give the go-ahead.”
“Your… realtor?”
Something dark and tender all at once passes behind his eyes. “Yes, Francesca. I contacted a realtor while I was still in San Francisco, just in case.”
“But your clients?—”
“I’ve slowly been transferring the paying clients over to various colleagues. I have no doubt that they’ll be in good hands. As for my pro bono clients, I can fly up to Santa Barbara to see them twice a month. My new office space isn’t far from my house.”
My mouth drops open. “Your new office space?”
He smirks and lifts his head, resting his chin against my pubic bone and taking my hands in his.
“Yeah.”
“What about your stuff? Your house is massive, and I don’t have any space here?—”
