He didn’t stop.
He kept at her clit, bringing her over that crest again and again until her body went limp. It wasn’t enough. A few measly orgasms weren’t anywhere near enough to erase three months of absence, to blot out the fact he’d almost lost her for good to Romeo’s bed. No, not that. Never that. Even if she’d married the fucker, Dante would have killed him and taken her anyway. She was his. Once she got over her pride, she’d admit as much.
Dante moved away from her pussy, dragging his mouth along one of her thighs and then the other. She blinked down at him, clearly dazed. “Someone has something to prove.”
“That’s not what this is, Rosa.” He kissed his way up her body, maneuvering her onto her back on the couch so he could settle between her legs. “This is a new beginning.”
She reached up with a trembling hand and touched his temple, smoothing down the hair there, but she didn’t respond with words. That was okay. He had nothing but time, and she’d already paved the way for them taking their first steps into the future he wanted. Right now, with her limp and sated beneath him, all the bullshit and theatrics felt justified. This was what he wanted more than anything. Forever.
“Dante.” She reached around him to run her hands down his back and dip them beneath the band of his shorts. “Kiss me.”
“No.”
She blinked. “What do you mean, no?”
“I’ll kiss you.” He met her gaze. “When you admit that you want this and we’re endgame.”
“I already admitted I wanted this.” She smiled a little. “You have evidence of how much I wanted it all over your face.”
Maybe another man would consider that enough. She was willing, and he wanted to taste her lips again. Dante was stronger than those weak fucks. He wanted it all, and if he had to deny himself even as he denied her, so be it. “You’re so damn sly with your words, Rosa.” He returned her smile slowly. “You never cease to be a challenge.”
“Maybe I don’t want to be a challenge.”
“There you go again, lying to me.” He let his weight rest more fully against her, enjoying the way she shivered in response. Dante dug one hand into her hair and tugged her head to the side so he could kiss her neck, working his way down to the spot that always made her go weak for him. It happened again. The moment he set his teeth against her skin, she gave another of those delicious whimpers and wrapped her legs around his waist.
“Dante,” Rose gasped. “Dante, please.” She turned her face to press kisses along his temple, his cheek, his jaw.
He had to move away now, to flip her onto her stomach to keep control, to do something, but when her lips brushed the corner of his mouth and she arched up to rub herself along the length of his cock, his brain shorted out. That was the only explanation that made any sense, because one moment he was firmly planning Rose’s continued seduction, and the next, his mouth was on hers.
She tasted like…victory and home and everything he’d ever wanted.
Dante’s leash snapped.
Chapter 12
Rose didn’t know what she was doing. If Dante didn’t want to kiss her, she should leave it alone. The more distance between them, the better. Except she couldn’t stop. This was nothing like she expected, this man becoming a wave that swept her away entirely. Her body still sang from what he’d done with his mouth, and now his strong body pressed her back into the couch even as he plundered her mouth.
It felt the same but different. Her body knew his, knew the dips and planes, knew that he loved it when she whimpered and rubbed herself against him, too desperate to worry about her pride. But this was so much more intense than it had ever been between them.
Her desire was a bonfire flaring hotter with each touch, each word. It didn’t matter that she’d just come harder than she could have dreamed. She wanted more. She needed more.
Slow down.
Fuck that. She didn’t want to. Somewhere in the depths of her mind, that little voice continued to call out warnings, but she was too far gone. Rose gripped Dante’s ass and arched up, rubbing herself along his length even as she encouraged him to thrust against her. More, more, more. She shoved down his shorts, working the slick fabric down his hips with her legs and hands.
And then there was nothing between them at all.
Dante hitched one of her legs higher and changed his movement, dragging his length over her slowly. His kiss changed, too. The burst of frenetic energy shifted to him dominating her mouth in a way he’d never done before. He claimed her with that kiss.
And she? She didn’t have to stay partially in her head in that moment. She didn’t have to worry about toning down her responses or being too rough.
She could lie with her words, but she couldn’t lie in this moment.
He pressed her into the couch, thrusting harder in response to her digging her nails into his ass. Rose moaned against his tongue and kissed him back just as fiercely. He tasted of her desire and just pure Dante, and the mix went straight to her head.
She arched against him, rubbing her breasts against his bare chest. God, there was too much stimulation. It felt too good. She couldn’t think. All her planning and manipulating and bullshit, and it went right out the window the second she got naked with this man. This was supposed to be for a purpose, but she couldn’t focus on anything but getting him inside her.
Rose rolled her hips, and he moved back just enough that his cock notched at her entrance. They both froze. Dante nipped her bottom lip and kissed along her jaw to the sensitive spot beneath her ear. “Tell me to stop.”
She had to. She had to right now. This was more than playing with fire. She was in the middle of the inferno. That should terrify her. It did terrify her but…
A part of her wanted to do it anyways.
Rose closed her eyes and inhaled, trying to think, but all she could see, smell, feel was Dante. “We can’t.”
“I know.”
He wasn’t even arguing with her. Why did she hesitate? She could not risk pregnancy, not with this man. “We really can’t.”
Dante cursed softly in Italian against her throat. “Un giorno matterò un bambino nella tua pancia, amata.” He lifted himself up enough to meet her gaze. “But not yet.”
“Dante—”
He moved back to kneel between her thighs and grabbed a condom off the table. “Have you changed your mind?”
About what? About risking too much? About having sex?
She shook her head slowly. “No.” It was the only answer. It had to be the only answer.
He rolled on the condom and gave himself a stroke, almost as if testing it. “Hold yourself open for me, amata.”
It never occurred for her to do anything but obey. She reached down and parted her pussy, holding her breath as he braced a hand by her head and guided his cock back to her entrance. This time, there was no reason to hesitate, no reason to stop. She half expected Dante to go slow. He had in the past; he was big enough that they had to be careful, and when they’d dated, he’d always been so careful to ease her into that first stroke, no matter how much foreplay they’d indulged in.
He didn’t go slow this time. Of course, he didn’t. This was Dante, not Jackson. He pushed into her as if he knew her body could take it, as if he expected it. Except…the devastating concentration on his face was the same. The cock currently splitting her in two was the same. Even after three months, her body knew his, knew the moves of this dance between them.