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‘I did not want you,’ she insisted, pushing back at him a little, her voice strained as it forced out the lie.
‘And then last night, in the kitchen...’
‘I didn’t want you,’ she choked, but his smile told Mia he knew she lied. ‘Idon’twant you,’ she begged, though neither believed it.
‘Then go, dear Mia. Stop playing with fire.’
Sheshouldgo, Mia knew. She should turn and run, except she had never thought she was capable of such a brutal desire.
Because this desirewasbrutal—an aching, physical want that dimmed regular thought. She was playing with fire and Mia found that she liked the burn.
Their eyes locked and held, and beneath her palm she felt the now rapid thud, thud, thud of his black heart.
His hand came to her face and he traced her cheek, then slid it behind her hair and yet he did not pull her towards him. Instead Dante asked a question. ‘Whatdoyou want, Mia?’
‘For this all to be over,’ she admitted.
‘And me.’
‘To never have to see you again.’ She shivered.
‘Yet here you stand.’
‘Yes.’
He kissed her then, slow and deep. His lips were plump as he parted hers with his tongue and she let him. It mattered not that she had rarely kissed a man before, for there was no experience required when Dante claimed a mouth so fiercely, so absolutely.
The thought of tongues had always repulsed Mia.
Now, though, she tasted the cool wedge of muscle and the only thing that repulsed her was her own crippling desire, for she craved more. She danced her tongue with his, tasting him, wanting more, even as she fought to reject his kiss.
It was Dante who removed the pleasure of his mouth and she stood there, running a tongue over her wet lips just to taste him again.
‘And yetstillhere you stand.’
She swallowed, and his eyes watched her throat as she did so. He lifted her hair, lowered his head, and his mouth met her tender neck.
Oh, God, Mia thought as he pulled her right into him and kissed her neck, not lightly but deeply.
‘Dante...’ She was pressed into taut flesh and she could feel his hard length against her stomach. She felt dizzy as his mouth pressed harder against her neck, and something awakened deep inside her.
‘Go now,’ he told her, even as he undid the little black pearls of her woollen dress and exposed her black bra. ‘Go,’ he said, ‘before we do something we regret.’
‘I don’t want to go.’ So raw was her admission that for the first time that day, tears squeezed out of her eyes.
‘We can’t go anywhere,’ he told her. For the first time he was not warning a lover that he had no desire for a lengthy affair—more, he was reminding Mia that they could never be.
‘I know.’ She whimpered her response, for he had lowered his head and the feeling of his mouth on her breast brought both tension and relief. He tasted her at great length, and to various degrees; his tongue lathed, his teeth nipped, and his jaw was rough, all of which was a dose of the sublime, and when he lifted his head she only wanted him more.
Need overrode shyness, so it was Mia who removed his shirt, taking in the body that she had ached to see for so long. The dark bruises of his nipples, the fan of hair on his chest and the flat, toned stomach were a feast not just to her eyes but to her mouth as well as she tasted his skin. The sound of him unfastening his belt had her clenching down below. Yet when he had completely undressed, when she saw him so erect, she felt her throat tighten at the sight of him. She couldn’t not touch him, yet she was nervous too, and so she stroked first the line of black hair on his stomach, and then trailed her hand down to the jet-black, crinkly curls below.
‘Take me in your hand,’ he said roughly.
Now it was fascination that overrode shyness. First, she touched him lightly, but feeling the strength behind the soft velvet skin she closed her hand around him and was startled—in a good way—at the low growl he gave.
‘Mia.’ He sounded like he was on the edge as he put a hand over hers and together they stroked him. To see him grow even more at the touch of her hand made her throat feel as if she were choking, so tense was she with excitement.
‘I need to know you,’ he said as he undressed her. ‘I need to know your scent and your taste...’
