Atonement (The Protectors 6)

“I guess I’m going to need to practice my numbers a bit,” I joked, hoping to lighten the mood that suddenly felt too intense. A quiet Dante wasn’t necessarily a good thing.

Dante’s eyes held mine as he sat up and then he was crawling towards me, pushing me flat on my back and covering my body with his. His mouth sealed over mine in an almost desperate kiss. When he released me he said, “It was perfect. You’re perfect.”

I smiled at him and then rolled him to his back. But before I could kiss him, he said, “But you’re changing these sheets while I shower.” He shifted his body like he was uncomfortable and I realized I’d pushed him right on top of the puddle of cum that had missed my mouth.

“You’re the one with the bad aim,” I said mildly as I slid my hand down his body.

Dante wrestled with me until I was on my back again and then he reached down to fist my dick. “We both know you’re an excellent pitcher,” he murmured as he gave me a long, heavy stroke. “But we’ll need to work on making you an equally talented catcher,” he suggested and then his hand was drifting lower, searching out my hole. I moaned at the sensation of him massaging me there. I pulled him down for a kiss.

“I guess it’s a good thing I’m a quick learner, then,” I said against his lips.

Dante’s eyes widened as he got what I was saying. He might have been teasing me about taking me at some point, but I wasn’t. Far from it. I wanted it all and I wanted it with him.

I used his momentary loss of speech to say, “Now, about this Ranger Rick thing…”

Chapter Seventeen

Dante

Jesus, if the bailiff moved any slower, he’d be walking backwards.

I managed to keep the thought to myself even though I wanted to leap over the small divider separating the audience from the judge and lawyers and snatch the piece of paper from the portly court officer’s hand. Why the hell was there so much pretense involved in reading a verdict? For fuck’s sake, it was one word, two at most.

Guilty.

Not Guilty.

Easy.

I nearly jumped when Magnus’s hand settled on my thigh, probably to stop the incessant tapping of my right leg. I shot him an apologetic look, but all he did was smile and he left his hand exactly where it was, not caring if the people sitting around us noticed.

I covered his hand with mine and wasn’t surprised when he separated his fingers long enough to let me link our hands. In the two days since he’d fucked me for the first time, he’d somehow become an expert at reading me. That had scared me early on, but I was getting used to it…well, okay, I was working on getting used to it.

When I wasn’t busy waiting for the other shoe to drop. Which translated into waiting for Magnus to come to his senses and see what a fucked-up mess I was.

But I’d thrown my worst at him, and like he’d promised, nothing had changed. He hadn’t looked at me in disgust or with pity, though I knew the things I’d told him about my past had upset him.

Just not in the way I’d thought.

Because when all had been said and done, he’d still been on my side.

Even when I hadn’t been.

There’d been no censure in his voice, no hesitation in his touch in any of the times he’d fucked me since he’d convinced me not to leave two mornings ago. If anything, he’d become even more determined to prove he wanted me for more than just sex.

We’d spent most of the day after Magnus had testified in bed, but we’d done so much more than just fuck. He’d told me stories about Jenna and I’d shared everything about Aleks that I could remember. The one thing I hadn’t told him was that I hadn’t stopped my search for Aleks and that I had no plans to either.

Because I didn’t want Magnus to tell me it was hopeless.

I wasn’t ready to hear those words from him. Countless others had told me that, but if Magnus said it…

I just wasn’t ready. Maybe if this whole relationship stuff really did end up being something, I’d find the guts to tell him and I’d deal with whatever happened after that.

The prosecutor had called Magnus that night to confirm he was going to attend closing arguments the following day and Magnus had asked me to go with him and I’d known it wouldn’t be as his bodyguard. I’d been proud of my man – yeah, I’d started thinking of him that way – for how tall he’d sat as both sides had used him to try and sway the jury in their favor. Luckily, the prosecutor had had the last word since his closing argument had been after the defense’s. He’d reminded the jury of Magnus’s twenty years in law enforcement, his professionalism, his dedication and commitment and the countless lives he’d saved, all while struggling with the challenges of being a single parent. And then he’d reminded the seven men and five women that Magnus wasn’t the one on trial and that a sixteen-year-old girl was dead because of one man and one man only.