whipping out his freshly acquired keys and unlocking the door to the building, dragging her inside before she could get a good look at what was happening. He kept his head down, his footsteps hurried.
"I'm guessing you know those guys?"
"Unfortunately."
"Who are they?"
"Barsantis," he said. "Galantes."
"Ah." She eyed him warily as they walked up the stairs. "You sure you don't want to go see what's going on?"
"I know what's going on," he said. "They're beating the fuck out of each other. Nothing new. I can't tell you how many times I've gotten into it with someone in this neighborhood, how many bar fights I've been involved in across the street. Hell, I'm pretty sure I got my ass kicked in front of your building a few months ago."
Dante walked up to the apartment door, unlocking it before motioning for her to go inside. She paused in the doorway, raising her eyebrows, feigning shock. "You got your butt kicked? You?"
"Don't go getting excited—the ass-kicking was mutual. It usually is. That's just how it goes. They'll hit each other until they get tired of it, and then they'll go on their way, back to their separate corners, and start plotting the next time they're going to come out swinging. Same shit, different day. Now, will you go in the apartment, or do I have to keeping standing out here in the hall, explaining this to you?"
She didn't budge. "Testy, are we?"
"A bit," he admitted, grasping her hips and forcing her into the apartment since she wasn't moving on her own. He stepped in behind her, relocking the door.
"Understandable, I guess, since it's been a stressful day," she said, following him as he walked to the bedroom, watching as he kicked off his shoes and set them beside the dresser. Even with her stuff strewn about, he made sure his stuff had a proper place, always cleaning up after himself. Sometimes she wondered how at home he felt there. He seemed to always be preparing for the worst, still taking it day-by-day, like every morning he woke up expecting to be on his own again. It wasn't that she questioned his feelings for her, no… she questioned his confidence. For someone so formidable, Dante certainly thought little of himself, like he wasn't worthy.
It baffled Gabriella, because if time had shown her anything, it was that Dante Galante was a beautiful force of nature.
Dante plopped down on the edge of the bed, sighing. "I had my life threatened by two powerful men today—men who probably won't hesitate to kill me—while I breathed the same air as a man who previously has tried to kill me… more than once. And then we get home, and I see the asshole that stabbed me… more than once… beating the shit out of a guy I used to consider one of my closest friends. And while I probably should've stepped in, because God knows he's taken a lot of hits for me over the years, I walked away. So I wouldn't call that a stressful day. I'd call it a fucked up one."
She frowned. "I didn't know."
"I know you didn't. And I'm sorry for being so touchy. None of this is your fault. I shouldn't take it out on you."
"I can take it."
"You shouldn't have to."
"I don't mind," she said, strolling toward him. "Besides, I might like it, you being so… rough."
His eyes shifted to her. "Don't do that."
"Don't do what?" she asked, using her foot to force his legs apart further so she could stand between them. "Don't change the subject like that, you mean?"
"Yes," he said. "I'm trying to apologize and you're fucking with my head."
Gabriella ran her hands through his hair. "That sounds like a good idea."
Dante's brow furrowed, like he was trying to riddle out what she meant, but she didn't give him the chance. She dropped to her knees, unzipping his pants. Dante stared at her in stunned silence as she reached into his boxers and stroked him, getting him rock hard, before taking him into her mouth. The moment her tongue came into contact with his flesh, he let out a groan, his head lolling back as he closed his eyes.
Gabriella sucked as his hands settled on the back of her head. He didn't push her, didn't force her, merely holding onto her as she took him down her throat. It went on for a minute or so, not long at all, before Dante forced her mouth off of him. She looked up,