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Dante lifted the forkful of chocolate cake to his mouth. “Damn,” he said, practically vibrating. All he could think about was Kennedy, naked. It had taken every scrap of will to not leap from the table before their food arrived and run from the room, dragging her along. Or head for the loo and throw it down, banging her against the wall. He’d reined himself in, wanting their first time to be perfect. “Good cake. How’s your lemon tart?”
Her eyes rolled back in her head. “Perfect. This is so good.”
“Let’s see what they taste like in combination.” Without giving her a chance to protest, he dipped his head so their lips could touch. For several lust-filled minutes, in the dimly lit corner booth, heedless of whether anyone noticed or cared, he lost himself in the feel of her mouth, the taste of her, the touch of her. Pulling back, he said, “We taste good together.”
“We do,” she agreed, her eyes bright with desire.
“Ready to go?” he asked, his erection pulsing against his pants. He lifted his hand to catch Franco’s eye, signaling for the check.
“Almost.”
He cocked his head and regarded her. She seemed to be mulling something over, chewing on her lower lip. “What’s up?”
“Before we go...” She nibbled her lip more.
“Before we go,” he repeated, prompting her.
“Can I ask you a few things?”
“Ask me. Anything at all. I’m an open book to you.” He wanted to play it right this time around. Lay himself bare. As long as she didn’t approach certain topics.
“I...,” she said, staring at her empty plate. “I’ve had a horrible couple of years. Still trying to land on my feet here.”
“Okay. I’ve had a few rough moments myself.” He fingered the top of her soft hand, craving touch, wanting to tear open her shirt to get at her skin.
“Where’d the name Magic Mouth come from? Your keyboard guy called you that the other night. And then those stupid girls.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ve never understood the way girls get with celebrities.”
Shit. Dante pressed his lips together, snatching his hand away.
“Open book, right?” she said.
“Right. I dated a model once. Not for long. She gave me the nickname, leaked it to the press when I ended things, and it stuck.” He studied her face, illuminated by the soft lighting, thinking she’s fucking gorgeous. What a beauty. I don’t want to scare her away.
“Did she have intimate knowledge of your magic mouth, or was it a joke?” The corners of her mouth curved up briefly and then disappeared behind a frown.
He regarded her with a steady gaze. “The former. But I also happen to be a good singer, so it carries a double meaning.”
Her eyes narrowed, clearly not liking his answer. “Did you love her?”
“Not at all. And if it means anything, I can’t stand the nickname. Hate it. It reminds me of a vengeful, shallow, bitch.” And one of the most painful nights of my life. His breath felt shallow, ragged and tight as the memory surfaced.
“Have you ever been in love?”
Double shit. Dante swallowed.
“Open book,” she repeated.
“Yes. I had a girlfriend I thought I loved deeply.”
“Why ‘thought’ you loved?”
“She was an addict. It’s hard to know what’s real when dealing with addiction.”
Kennedy’s face seemed to pale. Her mouth parted, then froze, as if she couldn’t get out the words.
Dante puzzled over her response, wondering what his statement had triggered.
She closed her mouth quickly, as if coming to a decision, and said, “I see. Is she still a part of your life?”
“No.”
“Are you certain?”
He thought of the ritual he did with Damien today. It seemed so long ago. “Absolutely. One hundred percent certain. She died, Kennedy. Overdosed.”
Kennedy gasped, her eyes growing moist. “Oh! I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah, thanks. It was awful. I’m the one who found Madeline with a needle sticking out of her arm in some hellhole apartment. Not a memory I particularly cherish or want to replay. So. My turn. Let me turn the tables. Have you ever been in love?”
“Yes.”
“Is he still a part of your life?”
“Only here.” She tapped her heart.
Dante winced, wishing she’d given a different answer.
“He made a huge difference in my life. He taught me everything I know about working with tigers. And...he made me forget about you. For a while at least.”
That statement blasted a hole through his heart. “He made you forget about me? Did you need to?”
“I did. I was...let’s just say a long time ago I had a whole lot of material in my head about who I wanted you to be to me.”
“And what happened?”
“You disappeared.”
“I’m here now,” he said softly. He studied Kennedy’s beautiful face. She seemed complex, one minute open, inviting him in, the next moment guarded, keeping him far, far away. What’s caused her to protect herself so fiercely? “I won’t leave this time, Kennedy. I want to find out what’s possible between us.”
She nodded. “Okay. I do, too. At least, I think I do.”
“You only think you do?” Confusion swirled in his brain. Can’t she see the potential here? Can’t she see how hard I’m trying?
She let out a laugh.
“What?”
“Don’t stroke out over there. I’m guessing you’re used to getting your way.”
His lips pressed together, not liking being mocked. Yet, all the while his cock grew more engorged.
“I want to see what’s possible, too, Dante.”
“Do you?” He stroked the side of her cheek with his thumb. So fucking soft. He imagined sinking into her velvet, his mind disappearing into a silken pool of lust.
“Yes.” She gave him a beguiling, searing gaze.
“Are you done asking me difficult questions?”
“For now, yes.”
“Then let’s go while I still have a few brain cells left to give directions.”
She laughed, the sound like a gift to his ears.
After paying their bill, Dante seized Kennedy’s hand, practically towing her from the restaurant. The street was crowded, congested, making him wonder what play had finished or musical event was about to begin. He waved his hand, trying to hail a taxi, wishing he’d brought his Porsche 911 Turbo S Cabriolet, a six-figure beauty, so he could tuck Kennedy inside and whisk her away with far more class.
As he searched for a ride, a camera flash went off. Then another. A maniacal laugh accompanied a third. “Gotcha!” A male popped out from behind a parked car.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Dante said, lifting his arm in front of his face. “It’s Jordan Jones. I fucking hate that guy.”
“Who’s the new girl?” the sleazy paparazzi’s sidekick, a tabloid reporter named Beck, called. He thrust a microphone in Dante’s face.
Dante shoved it away, still clutching Kennedy’s hand.
“What’s your name, love?” Beck asked her, pointing the mic at her. “How long you been with Magic Mouth?”
“Stop it,” she yelled. “Get that thing away from me. Dante. Make them leave me alone.”
Her plea lanced his heart. More flashes blinded him. Dante blinked, trying to clear his gaze. “Get away from us.” Dante released Kennedy and lunged for Jordan’s camera.
Jordan jerked away, lifting his camera high. “Ah, ah, ah. Not again, Vega. Hands off the camera. Your pretty face is mine.”
“Tell us how you met the new girl. Who is she? Are we going to see more of her?” Beck called. “We haven’t seen you out much lately.”
A crowd formed, watching the unfolding scene.
“Shit,” Dante muttered. He spun around, wildly searching for Kennedy. “Kennedy!” he called.
“Dante!”
He whipped his head to see her standing in the street, holding a taxi door open, the camera flash going off in her face like fireworks. It illuminated the terror in her eyes, making him want to roar first and murder second. He hated this part of his superstar status. He turned to race toward the taxi when a hand grabbed his biceps.
“Magic Mouth,” a crazed fan squealed. “It’s you!”
He spun around and peeled the unwanted fingers from his arm, pushing her away. More camera flashes went off in his eyes. “You god damned prick, get the fuck away from me.” He blinked, trying to see through the spots in his vision, and barreled toward the figure wielding the camera.
“Dante!” Kennedy yelled.
His hands landed on Jones’s chest, knocking the male to the ground, the camera flying from his hands.
“Dante!” Kennedy screamed again.
He attempted another run for the taxi when Jordan’s hand snaked around his ankle.
Jordan yanked Dante’s foot out from underneath him, and he fell, landing on his hands with a loud “Oof.” His fist torqued back to smash the asshole’s face.
“Dante!”
He scrambled to his feet, only to see the taxi, with Kennedy’s frightened face pressed to the window, being swallowed up by the traffic of New York City.
