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Instead of answering, he gazed at her with loving eyes, assuredly fooling everyone there except her.
“This is completely unplanned, but I feel as if it’s necessary. I arrived in this country fifteen years ago at the age of seventeen, searching for the American dream. Years later, I met this beautiful woman and was welcomed into her family. As Clifton said, perhaps Anna and I were too young at the time. I consider myself a very lucky man to have won her heart again. This time, I plan to keep it.”
Without warning, he dipped her over his arm—like a scene out of a 1950s romantic film—and stunned her with a kiss. Camera flashes went off, and cheers and whistles erupted in the night.
His warm hand splayed across her back in support, and his tongue eased apart her lips. The fiery heat of passion and desire rushed through her veins, and liquid heat pooled between her thighs, making her coreache.
Her heart raced. Her knees softened. With a faint whimper, Annabelle curled both arms around the back of Dante’s neck and devoured him in kind, reveling in the firm texture of chest muscles pressed against her soft breasts and making her nipples pebble into hard points.
Finally, Dante released her lips and straightened, and Annabelle’s heart pounded in her chest. She couldn’t believe he had kissed her. She couldn’t believe she had reacted with such unfettered enthusiasm.
She smiled at the assembled crowd, her head swimming and her breathing coming in short, sharp spurts. She never denied Dante was still very attractive, but she hadn’t expected to react to him in that way.
Oh shit. She was in trouble.
* * *
Annabelle stormedthrough her bedroom door several paces ahead of Dante.
The guests had left, and the kiss had taken place over an hour ago, but she was still fuming. Angry at him and angry at herself. She couldn’t believe she had kissed him back and, despite a hoard of onlookers, thoroughly enjoyed the way he’d devoured her lips.
Dante sauntered in after her, a lazy smile fixed at the corner of his mouth. Normally she wasn’t a violent person, but she itched to smack the expression off his face.
She kicked off her shoes. “You had no right to kiss me earlier,” she hissed.
“The guests enjoyed it, and there will be some great photos for the local media. You should be thanking me. The kiss should keep people from questioning the reason we reunited.”
“It wasn’t part of the plan. Moving forward, keep your lips to yourself!”
She took off for the walk-in closet but didn’t get far before Dante somehow crossed the room and grabbed her arm, yanking her around to face him.
The lazy humor was gone. Anger had taken its place and blazed down at her from his eyes.
“Let us get one thing straight, shall we? You do not tell me what to do. We talk. We discuss. We negotiate. We come to a mutual agreement.”
She stepped back and pulled out of his warm grip. “A mutual agreement? That hasn’t happened at all in recent weeks. I’ve had to make virtually every decision concerning the engagement party and the wedding by myself because you’re either too busy or—let’s be honest—not interested.”
“You were the one who came up with the idea to remarry,” he reminded her in an even tone.
“That doesn’t mean I have to do everything alone!” Annabelle snapped.
Resentment swelled in her chest. Not once had he asked how the plans were going or if she needed help.
He left everything up to her, which was much different from the first time they had married. Back then, he’d been very involved. They planned every minute of the ceremony and reception together, and though some of the tasks were obviously mundane to him, he’d participated all along the way.
This time around, while she fussed over seating charts, flowers, and decorations, Dante was nowhere to be found, carrying on as if he wasn’t getting married in mere weeks. His disinterest chafed, and having to do everything herself was nerve-racking and annoying. As if she was the only one getting married.
“I assumed that’s the way you wanted things. You’re a bit of a control freak, whether you want to admit it or not.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Talk about the pot calling the kettle black. All the more reason why we should have discussedthe kiss,which we didn’t.” She shook with rage and… something else.
An unquenched need. A desire to kiss that cruel mouth of his again. To have his large hands on her bare skin and his firm lips against hers, making intimate parts of her body quiver with longing. She craved him and wanted him to slam her against the wall and force his thighs between hers.
Heat flushed her cheeks as she fought the sexy thoughts from taking over.
“That was a spur-of-the-moment decision, and in the future, we will discuss the kisses,” Dante said calmly.
“There will be no more kisses,” Annabelle said, placing extra emphasis on each word. She couldn’t afford to have these feelings come to the surface again. Complicated feelings of lust, anger, and affection.
