Page 69 of Dante

Say it out loud.

Yours, Dante.

He steps closer.

Pulls the nozzle out of my hand and turns it on me harder, holding it where he wants it.

He pins my wrists above my head with his other hand. Then he nibbles on the side of my neck.

You don’t come until I say.

I whimper out loud in the empty bathroom.

He keeps the water on me. Slow torture. I’m shaking.

Please, I beg him in my head. Please. Please.

He makes me wait.

Lets the wanting climb until I think I’ll go insane. Then his mouth at my ear:

Now, good girl. Come for me.

I come hard against the water, biting my own lip so Ciro can’t hear from down the hall.

My leg trembles on the niche. I have to brace my forearm against the tile.

The pleasant aftershocks roll through me for a long minute.

Then I let the spray rinse the rest of myself clean.

I stand there breathing hard.

And remind myself —

Mary is gone. He’s mine.

CHAPTER 26

GINA

Once I dry myself off, I open my closet. Now what would a woman wear to a shooting range?

I look past Antoine’s dresses and to my meager stash of casual clothing I brought from Irvine. From that, I select my most comfortable wide-leg jeans.

But instead of matching it with a comfortable top, I choose a virginal white camisole with a million buttons.

Maybe when I take off my coat, it will give Dante ideas on finishing what he didn’t start last night by coming to my room.

And since I’ve gone this far, I choose high heels instead of gym shoes.

Dante being Dante, I suspect the combination of sexy heels and guns will turn him on.

And dressing like some gorgeous assassin in a James Bond flick might give me extra confidence.

Downstairs, I try not to show my nerves, or my surprise, when a new car and driver roll up to take us to the range.

“Where’s Thomas?” I ask.