Breaking Her (Love is War #2) (12 page)

I didn't care about any of it—how clean he was or how filthy I was.
 
I nearly ran as I made my way to him.
 

But as I watched, the front door of Gram's house opened, and out came Tiffany, looking even more pristine in a lacy white dress.

I stopped in my tracks, lingering at the tree line, feeling my temper begin to re-boil.
 

She beamed at Dante, and he smiled back, his hands in his pockets like he didn't have a care in the world.
 

She said something I couldn't make out and he laughed.
 

My vision went red, and I must have made some noise because Dante,
finally
, noticed me.
 

His smile didn't falter, in fact it widened, and he said something I couldn't hear to Tiffany and started moving toward me.
 

I began to back away, painfully aware of the picture I made—bed-mussed hair, slapped red face, in a tight, soiled shirt with no bra.
 

I couldn't have looked more different from the two of them in their country club uniforms if I'd been trying to.
 

Still, Dante didn't even notice at first.
 
He was already talking as he approached, too intent on what he was saying to notice how I looked.
 
"Listen.
 
I have an idea.
 
I think you and Tiffany should spend more time together.
 
I had a long talk with her—"

"When?
 
Why?"
 
I interrupted without even meaning to, moving deeper into the woods.
 
What the hell was going on?
 
Hadn't we been over this?
 

Never.
 
I would
never
give that girl a chance.

"She caught me on my way out at the country club brunch this morning, and I gave her a ride.
 
She asked me to hear her out, so I did.
 
She's never done anything to either of us.
 
She has nothing to do with my mother's schemes.
 
She's as baffled as we are about the things my mom claims.
 
We had a good laugh about the fact that my mom says I'm going to marry her after college.
 
Trust me, she's no more interested in that than I am."

I was glaring at him, hands clenched at my sides, and it was only after he'd finished talking that he seemed to notice something was wrong.
   

Well, something other than the idiocy he'd just spouted that he had to know I wouldn't be swallowing as easily as
he
had.
 

Tiffany
wanted
him.
 
I knew it in my bones.
 
Like recognizes like.
 

He blinked a few times, eyes running over my face and down my body.
 
He took a step closer, his hand darting forward almost unconsciously to palm one of my breasts.
 
It was a casual touch that spoke of absolute intimacy.
 
He was so accustomed to having me under his hands that it was second nature at this point.
 

His brows drew together.
 
"Why aren't you wearing a bra?
 
Do you realize how revealing that top is like this?"

His mouth twisted up in distaste as his roaming hand made contact with one of the still sticky stains on my shirt.
 
"What's all over you?"
   

I wanted to punch him in the face.
 
"Long story," I gritted out.
 
I didn't feel like telling him anything.
 
I was just too frustrated by then.
 
The morning couldn't have been going worse.

He wiped his hand on his immaculate suit then brought it back, this time slipping it under my shirt to fondle me.
 
He backed me farther into the woods, until we were well hidden.
 
"I woke up dreaming about last night," he said, voice thickening, eyes on his hand inside my top.
 
"I wish you could have been with me."
 
He stepped closer.
 
"I wish we didn't have to sleep apart.
 
It seems wrong, doesn't it?"

He had no idea.
 
I'd have given anything for that.

Also, he was a master at manipulating me.
 
He'd nearly made me forget why I was so upset with just a few drugging sentences.
   

Still, I tried to rally, to get back on point.
 
"It's semen," I answered his earlier question.
 

"What?" he asked sharply, his hand still kneading at my breast, his thumb rubbing circles around my puckered nipple

"On my shirt.
 
It's cum.
 
My grandma went digging through the garbage can outside this morning, found a bunch of our used condoms, and woke me up by throwing them on me."
 

His free hand came up to finger my cheek, and he seemed to notice my face for the first time.
 
"She was slapping you again, wasn't she?"
 

I shrugged, dislodging his hand.
 
"Does it matter?"
 

"Of course it matters!
 
If she's putting her hands on you again, I'm going down there—"

"What are you going to do that you haven't done before?
 
Even if you talk sense into her, she'll forget it all the next time she's drunk."
 

"Are you okay?"

I shrugged again, not looking at him.
 
"I'm fine."
 
Code, of course, for not fine.
 

"We're going to go down there, and I will call the police."
 

"You think that will help?
 
Last time we did that, she turned it on me, said
I
was hitting
her
and nearly had
me
arrested."

"
Fuck
," he cursed, because he knew I was right.
 
The cops were never on my side.
 
I'd been in too much trouble to ever ask the authorities for help.
 
"Well, I'll walk you down and keep her away from you while you grab some clean clothes.
 
In the meantime, though, take off your shirt."

"Excuse me?"
 

He grinned, shrugging off his jacket, loosening his tie.
 
"I'll give you mine.
 
You shouldn't have to wear that dirty one for another second."
 
He was already unbuttoning his before he'd finished speaking.
 

I took off my shirt, and in spite of everything, or maybe because of that, the way his eyes moved on my bared body, I was suddenly ravenous for him—insanely, madly,
starved
.
 

I licked my lips, hands going to the button of my jeans.
 
"Dante," I rasped.
 

He dropped his shirt and jacket on the ground, crowding close to me.
 
He still had his undershirt on, unfortunately, but I took care of it in short order.
 

"Do you have anything on you?" I asked, rubbing my chest against his.
 

He was flushed and panting into my face.
 
"Yeah.
 
I was just about to come find you."
 
He pulled a wad of condoms out of his pocket.
 
"Please,
please
, get on the pill."
 

I'd had some weird paranoia about my grandma figuring out I was having sex if I went through all the steps of getting on the pill, but that cat was evidently out of the bag.
 
"Okay," I panted, stroking him through his slacks.
 
"I will.
 
Soon as I can."
 

We didn't even kiss, which may have been a first, but I was too far gone.
 
I braced my hands against a tree as he worked my jeans off, got us both ready, and took me from behind.
 

He kneaded my breasts, mouth rasping in my ear as he pushed into me.
     

It was quick but still more tender than rough.
 
I came with a fast and quiet intensity, shutting my eyes tight, barely making a sound.
 

He came louder, much louder, calling out my name as he rooted deep and finished.

He was still rutting inside of me, milking out every last twitch when he stiffened suddenly.

"Fuck.
 
Tiffany," he said, voice pitched loud.
 

That, of course, made me stiffen.
 
I was craning my neck around, heart already wounded with just two words, absolute murder in my eyes.

Had he really just said
Tiffany
?
 
I couldn't quite believe it.
 

But as my eyes caught on movement in the woods, it all made sense.
 
There she was, backing away, eyes wide.
 
Our gazes met an instant before she turned and fled.
 

"What the fuck was that?" I asked no one in particular.
 

"She accidentally walked up on us, I think," Dante said, coming way too fucking quickly to her defense.
 
"She couldn't have known we'd go twenty feet into the woods and start having sex."
 

"She clearly doesn't understand us at all, then."
 

"We need to stop doing this.
 
That's twice now someone's been creeping on us in the woods.
 
I don't like it."
 
As he spoke, his weight lifted off my back and he slipped out of me.
 

I turned, leaning my back against the tree as I looked up, up, up at him.
 
"I can control myself if you can."
 
It was probably a lie, but one I doubted I'd ever be tested on.

As though proving my point, his eyes were on my body, one hand going to cup my breast, the other to my sex.
 
"Did you get off?
 
You were so quiet I couldn't tell."
 

I bit my lip and lied, "I didn't."

"I'm sorry.
 
Want me to take care of you?" he asked, voice gone quiet and dark.
 
He moved closer, thumb circling my clit as he pushed a finger inside of me.
 

I gasped and nodded.
 
"Please, Dante," I pleaded, because he loved that, and as a sort of penance for the selfish, pointless lie.
 
I hadn't had to make him feel guilty to get him to go down on me, but for some reason I'd wanted to.
 
Needed
that element of repentance in his touch.

He wasn't the only manipulative one here.
       

He lowered to his knees, perched one of my legs onto his shoulder, and buried his face between my thighs.
 
He pushed two fingers into me and went to work on my clit with his tongue, his free hand sliding up to fondle my breasts.
 

I gripped his hair with one hand, the other covering his on my chest, feeling at my body with him.
 
There was something unutterably sensual about experiencing his touch on me through my own fingers.
   

I was calling out his name less than quietly, eyes pointed beseechingly up at the sky, when a movement caught the corner of my eye.
 

My head snapped to the side.
 
It was Tiffany.
 
Again.
 
Peeking at us from behind a thick pine.
 

I glared at her.
 

She smiled back, turned, and fled.
 
Again.
 

Dante was standing, wiping his mouth before I told him.
 
"Tiffany came back to watch round two."
 

He looked infuriatingly confounded.
 
"
What
?
 
Are you sure?'
 

I was so pissed by that, by the fact that his mind worked that way, that somehow me imagining seeing her was even vaguely possible, that I just stopped talking.
 

I shrugged on his shirt, put on my jeans, and started walking determinedly back to my grandma's trailer.
 

He was on my heels.
 
"Why would she come back?
 
I don't get it."
 

To see you naked
, I almost replied, but bit my tongue.
 
It was becoming apparent that he needed to figure out for himself who and what Tiffany was.
 
I was sick and tired of trying to show him myself.
 
I'd lost all patience.
   

He dropped the subject, which was for the best, because I was
brewing
for a fight.
 

CHAPTER TEN

"Women are meant to be loved, not to be understood."
 

~Oscar Wilde

Thankfully, my grandma was passed out cold when we got back to the trailer.
 

Dante waited for me on the sofa while I showered and changed into clean clothes.
 

I was rubbing my wet hair with a towel as I walked out of the bathroom.

"Let's go see a movie with her this afternoon," he greeted me with.
 

I knew what and who he meant immediately, though I wished I hadn't.
 
More like, I
hoped
I'd misunderstood.
 
"What?
 
Who?"

"Tiffany.
 
I think we should all go out.
 
Grab a movie and pizza, or whatever."

I gave him my best drop-dead glare.
 
"No.
 
Hell
no."