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And he wanted to...punish her for that. Something in him did.
So he kissed her. And it wasn’t a kind kiss. Wasn’t a nice kiss. Wasn’t infused with the kind of gentleness that he had tried to inject into all the lovemaking on the island after he had discovered that she’d been a virgin their first time together.
Her dress was exquisite, beautiful. Off the shoulder and clinging to her curves just so. He tore it down, revealing her breasts, their gorgeous, rosy tips, to his inspection.
She was perfection, was Minerva, and that man who had dared to make commentary on her beauty deserved no thought from her.
Even in his anger, anger that was unwieldy and reserved for any target in his path right now, he could not deny her beauty.
Her beauty was the only thing that made sense.
Because nothing else did.
Nothing else felt like him.
On the heels of that thought came another one, far more disturbing.
That he wasn’t sure exactly what him was.
A boy who had tried to throw a birthday party for his mother. A boy who had found her dead the next morning of an overdose and had held her body and cried for hours. Afraid to leave her. Afraid that if he didn’t no one would ever come.
The boy who had held the gun to Robert King’s head.
The one who had taken his education and transformed it into a billion-dollar industry.
The one who was here now in the back of the limousine with Minerva, kissing her as though she were oxygen and he would die without her.
None of it felt real.
Except her hands. Her mouth. The physical sensation of touching her, holding her.
That was real.
He wondered which piece of her was real.
The little girl who had run around on the estate and fallen out of trees, skinning her knees and terrifying her mother.
The dreamy teenager with her nose stuck in a book.
The brave tigress who had demanded marriage to protect her cub.
The woman in his arms now.
Were they all every piece of those things?
And how did they bring them together?
Was it even wise to do so?
All those questions burned away in his consciousness as Minerva kissed him back. As her hands went to his tie, loosening it and undoing the buttons there. He batted those hands away.
He leaned down, taking one pert nipple between his lips and sucking it in deep.
She gasped, arching against him. But she wouldn’t hold still, and her hands were skimming over him. He grabbed hold of her arms and pinned them to her sides, holding her still as he continued to lavish attention on her breasts.
He had to have the control here. She couldn’t.
“Dante... Your driver can’t...”
