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"It's okay." He kissed her as his erection nudged the mouth of her core. His tongue swept between her lips, the taste of her own juices a musky sweetness that lingered on his tongue. "You're safe with me, Tess. I promise you."

Ordinarily she would be the last person to rely on trust alone, but somehow she knew that she could believe him. Incredibly, she felt safe with him. Protected.

He kissed her again, pushing his tongue deeper. Tess let him in, kissing him back as she arched her hips and seated herself on the blunt head of his penis to show him what she wanted. He exhaled sharply, pelvis bucking as their bodies began to join.

"You are mine," he gasped against her mouth.

Tess couldn't deny it.

Not now.

She clutched at him hungrily, and then, with a low growl, he thrust forward, plunging deep.

Chapter Seventeen

In his private lab across town, Ben Sullivan had decided to make some adjustments to his Crimson formula. From the beginning he'd never stored the final recipe in the lab, figuring it to be a prudent measure of job security if he carried it with him instead of leaving it behind for his patron's cronies--or anyone else--to find. He'd been paranoid about getting cut out of his lucrative little venture; after the phone call he'd made to his benefactor earlier tonight, he was feeling like his paranoia might have been more of a spot-on hunch.

He had relayed everything that happened the other night, right down to the near miss with the guys who had chased him out of the club and the incredible notion that Crimson had had some kind of dangerous--vampiric, he'd been inclined to call it--effect on one of Ben's recent best customers.

The news had been accepted with his patron's usual nonreactionary calm. Ben had been advised to pulge none of the details to anyone, and a meeting had been set up for him with his employer for the following evening at nightfall. After all the months of secrecy and anonymity, he was finally getting a face-to-face with the guy.

With a little less than fifteen hours before that rendezvous was to occur, Ben thought it wise to cover his bases as best he could, in the event he might need some leverage when he went to meet with the boss. He didn't know precisely who he was dealing with, after all, and he wasn't foolish enough to discount the fact that it might be someone with some pretty serious underworld connections. Wouldn't be the first time a kid from Southie thought he could play ball with real thugs and ended up a floater in the Mystic.

Downloading both formulas--the original and the new, altered one that he considered his own job security--Ben popped the flash drive from his computer. He erased all traces of the files from his hard drive, then headed out of the lab. He took side roads back into the city, just in case he was being followed, and ended up in the North End, not too far from Tess's apartment.

She would be surprised to know how often he cruised past her place, just to see if she was there. She' d be more than surprised, he admitted to himself. She'd be a little skeeved out if she had any idea how obsessed he truly was with her. He hated that he couldn't let go of her, but the fact that she had always insisted on holding him at arm's length, particularly since their breakup, only made him want her more. He kept waiting for her to come around and let him back in, but after the other night, when he'd felt her cringe as he kissed her, some of that hope had slipped away.

Ben wheeled his van around a corner and headed up Tess's street. Maybe this would be the last time he drove by her place. The last time he'd humiliate himself like some pathetic Peeping Tom.

Yeah, he thought, putting his foot on the brake for a red light, maybe it was time to cut loose, move on. Get a fucking life.

As his van idled, Ben watched a sleek black Porsche roll up to the traffic light from a side road and hang a right in front of him, cruising down the nearly empty street toward Tess's apartment building. His stomach squeezed as he got a look at the driver. It was the guy from the club--not the one who ran after him, but the other dude, the big one with the dark hair and the lethal vibe about him.

And damn if he didn't recognize the female passenger sitting next to the guy.

Tess.

Jesus Christ. What was she doing with him? Had he been questioning her about Ben's activities or something, maybe checking up with his friends and acquaintances?>She wasn't thinking of the human now, that was for sure. Tess's eyes darkened, and her breathing picked up speed, rushing shallowly from between her parted lips. Dante flexed his biceps, just the slightest pull of his arm to bring her closer. She came toward him without resistance.

"I want to kiss you again, Tess."

"Why?"

He chuckled, low under his breath. "Why? Because you're beautiful, and because I want you. And I think you want me too." Dante brought his free hand up to her face and gently stroked the line of her jaw. She felt like silk against his fingertips, as delicate as glass. He brushed his thumb across the dusky swell of her lips.

"God, Tess. I'm dying to taste you right now."

She closed her eyes, exhaling a sigh. "This is crazy," she whispered. "I don't... this isn't... something that I normally--"

Dante lifted her chin and bent to press his lips to hers. He'd meant only to sample the feel of her mouth on his, an urge he'd been harboring since those few heated moments they'd shared at the museum reception. Then he'd been something of a ghost to her, stealing a taste of her passion, then slipping away before she could know if he was real or imagined. Now, for a reason he could hardly comprehend, he wanted her to know he was flesh and bone.

He was, evidently, a goddamn idiot.

Because right now he wanted her to feel him--all of him--and understand that she was his.

He'd meant only to taste, but she was too sweet on his tongue. She was so responsive, her hands coming up around his neck to hold him closer as their mouths crushed together in a deep, prolonged joining. Seconds melted into a minute, then minutes more. A mad, timeless oblivion.

As he kissed her, Dante buried his hands in the luxurious mass of her hair, reveling in the softness of her, the heat of her. He wanted her undressed. He wanted her naked beneath him, screaming his name as he pushed inside her.

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