Page 142 of The Rival's Obsession
My heart doesn’t just beat—it rages.
“But you were still everywhere,” he says, voice unraveling. “In everything. In everyone.”
He looks up at me again, and fuck, I’ve never seen him like this. Open. Raw. Eyes glassy, red-rimmed, like he’s been holding this back for so long it got tangled in his bones.
“I’ve loved you since before I even knew what love really was,” he says, both hands reaching out to cup my jaw. “And I never stopped. Not for a second.”
I can’t breathe.
“I thought I broke us,” he goes on, quieter now. “And then you went and broke me right back.”
A broken laugh. A half-sob.
“But you’re still it for me. You’ve always been it.”
He leans in, forehead pressed to mine again, like he’s trying to tether himself to something real.
And then he whispers the only words I’ve needed since the day I lost him:
“I love you, Dante. I love you so goddamn much it ruined me.”
My eyes slam shut. I feel it everywhere—in my blood, in my teeth, in the ache behind my ribs.
And just like that, the war is over.
No more pain. No more lies. No more pretending we didn’t belong to each other this whole fucking time.
I smile, just a little, as I whisper back, “Good.”
Then I kiss him.
Not like the first time.
Not like the last.
This kiss is like none we’ve had before.
I’m still on my knees.
He’s still perched on the edge of my bed, chest rising like he can’t catch his breath. Like I knocked the air from his lungs with my mouth alone.
I pull back just far enough to look at him.
We’re both breathing hard. Both of us wrecked—and starving for more.
I smirk, still tasting him. “I have a question, though, Lucciolina.”
For the first time, he grins at the name. A real one. Not embarrassed. Not scowling. Just... Grant. And fuck, it makes me grin too.
“Why eight inches?” I ask.
His face goes red in a heartbeat. A full-body blush that starts in his cheeks and spills down his throat.
I tilt my head, gaze fixed on him. “No, no. You have to tell me. You said it more than once. So why was the dildo eight inches?”
He groans and throws himself back onto the mattress like I’ve just mortally wounded him. Arms over his face. “Dante...”
I crawl up over him slowly, deliberately, until I’m straddling his hips and leaning in. “Answer me, Lucciolina. Why?”
