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“Enough,” he said, his tone pleading. “I can’t hold back.”
And part of her didn’t want him to. But another part, the selfish part that won, wanted to stop so that she could join him in release.
She pulled away from him, moving into a standing position, her eyes never leaving his. In the dim light, she could see the dull flush of arousal staining his high cheekbones, could see his chest rising and falling sharply with each labored breath.
Could see that she was close to uncovering the man beneath the armor.
“Come to bed with me,” she said.
And he complied.
There were condoms in the bedside table, and Dante quickly rolled one on, joining her on the bed, stroking the silken seam between her thighs with his fingers, sliding a finger deep inside of her, testing her readiness.
“Oh yes,” she breathed, the white-hot friction created by his touch sending a streak of pleasure through her each time he brushed his fingers over her clitoris.
“Ready for me?”
She bracketed his face with her hands, her eyes locking with his as she pressed a kiss to his lips. “Always,” she said.
He slid inside of her, his eyes never leaving hers as he filled her, joined himself to her, in the most primal, basic, profound way possible.
This was why they called it becoming one. Because she couldn’t tell anymore where he began and she ended. Couldn’t tell whose pleasure she was feeling, whose desperation.
The need for release pounded through both of them, and each thrust of Dante’s body within hers, each press of hers against his, brought them closer. She moved her hands over his back, felt the tension in his muscles, tension that echoed through her, tightened more and more, unbearably so.
He thrust hard into her one last time and pushed them both over the edge, a rough growl on Dante’s lips.
She lay there, holding him against her body—her world, her defenses, at his feet. Somehow, it wasn’t just about him anymore. It was about her. Not about breaking him down, but being broken in front of him. Of offering him everything, regardless of the consequences.
She ran her fingers through his hair, pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “I love you.”
* * *
I love you.
It shouldn’t matter how she felt. Ultimately, it changed nothing. It didn’t alter the plans he’d been making, slowly, since the wedding. Since the moment she’d appeared at the church. Since he’d seen his parents with Ana.
What she felt changed nothing. On one thing, he was sure Paige was absolutely right: her love had no darkness to it. There was nothing in Paige but pure, beautiful light. And there was nothing more than that in her feelings.
She was all strength, determination and generosity.
He was the one who had to be kept on a leash. Of that he was certain. He had the blood of a monster in his veins. He had seen what love had done to that man. How he had let it get twisted inside of him. Love becoming about hurting someone else, controlling her, never controlling himself.
He would never do that. Would never allow it.
He had lost something of his control back in that bed with Paige, but he would not allow it to happen again. The feeling, though, with her, was proving addictive. The temptation to drown in passion, in her arms, was strong.
He gripped the rail of the balcony and looked out at the city below. The air was warm, but he was cold to his bones. There was no need for him to exact punishment on himself tonight, no need to remind himself of the destruction he was capable of.
I love you.
Paige loving him, what it might do to her, that was the cruelty. That was the punishment.
Maybe it’s a good thing. Maybe it will keep her with you.
Not a kindness on his part, perhaps, but he had been considering it, strongly. To keep Paige and Ana in his life. In his house. Something to thank his parents for all they had done, a source of stability and warmth for his home. A place for them to be protected and to live in luxury.
Feelings he hadn’t counted on, hadn’t wanted from her. But it wasn’t the end of everything. He could keep her. He could make her happy. And he could do it without endangering her.
Without exposing himself.
It was wrong to want this. But he did.
He turned and walked back into the bedroom, looked at Paige curled up in bed. He slipped beneath the covers with her and gathered her close, pressing a kiss to her hair.
