Chapter 3

The master bedroom at the manor was absurdly huge. It could contain our entire apartment and still have room to spare.

The four-poster bed was draped in deep red velvet curtains, a real wood fire crackled in the fireplace, and the air was filled with the scent of cedar and lemon oil.

Dante set me down at the edge of the bed, then dropped to one knee and slipped off my heels. His palm cupped my ankle, his fingers tracing slow circles over the top of my foot.

"Tired?" he asked.

"Kidnapped, kissed without warning, hauled into a strange guy's bedroom... What do you think?" I tried to pull my foot back, but his grip stayed firm.

"This isn't kidnapping," Dante said, lifting his head, firelight flickering in his eyes. "I'm calling in what's owed."

He stood up and started unbuttoning his suit jacket. He took his time. like he was savoring every second, unwrapping a present he'd waited years for.

My heart was racing as I instinctively inched away from him.

"What are you doing?" I asked, my voice coming out shaky.

"Making good on the deal," he said, tossing his jacket onto the armchair, then his tie, and finally unbuckling his belt. The metallic clink sounded way too loud in the silence.

"Now? The night hasn't fallen yet," I blurted out.

"In my world, night falls when I say so," Dante growled, leaning in, his hands trapping me between him and the bed. "I've waited seven years for this, Ava. Seven whole years. Do you really think I'm going to wait a second longer?"

His face was so close I could count every single lash, see the tiny flecks of brown in his irises, and catch the lingering scent of restaurant cologne, cigar smoke, and something deeper—primal, masculine, and utterly intoxicating.

"We don't really... know each other yet," I said, my voice shaky.

He said, "I know you hate celery, love rainy days, were captain of the debate team in high school, and secretly took care of a stray cat until your dad found out.

"I know your mom was a piano teacher, and you could play Chopin's Nocturnes when you were eight. I know you've got a birthmark on your left shoulder."

Every fact he listed made my heart skip a beat.

"How do you..."

"I told you, I know everything about what's mine," Dante said, his hand caressing my face. His fingertips brushed over my brow, cheekbones, and lips. "And now, I finally get to discover the parts I've only dreamed about. up close."

Then he kissed me.

This kiss was nothing like the one in the restaurant.

It wasn't rough. It was slow and deep, like he was savoring every inch of me. His tongue traced the roof of my mouth, and I shivered, my fingers twisting in the sheets.

"Dante..." I gasped, his name tumbling out between breaths.

"I'm right here," he murmured, biting at my lower lip, then his mouth moved to my jaw, my neck, my collarbone. Everywhere his lips and teeth touched, he left burning marks.

His hand slid beneath my skirt, palm tracing up my thigh. Where his skin met mine, it felt like sparks were igniting. I arched, a whimper slipping out of my throat.

"Stop..." I whispered, but my body betrayed me, leaning into him instead.

"Are you sure?" Dante lifted his head, his gaze smoldering with hunger. "Your body's telling a different story."

His fingers slipped beneath the waistband of my panties, then stilled.

"Tell me you want me," he ordered, his breath hot on my skin. "Say you want me."

I bit my lip and shook my head.

Dante let out a wolfish, dangerous laugh.

"Then show me with your body," he chuckled.

He tore off my panties. A gasp ripped from my lips as my nails dug into his shoulders.

"You're dripping wet, babe," he whispered huskily in my ear. "All for me, right?"

I was mortified—shame and pleasure tangled together, sending jolts down my spine. I trembled in his arms, tears spilling from my eyes as the sensation overwhelmed me.

"Please..." I whispered, not even sure what I was begging for anymore.

"For what?" Dante withdrew his fingers, his hands moving to his belt. "Tell me what you want."

I stared at him—sweat glistening on his brow, his Adam's apple working as he swallowed. His burning manhood pressed against me, poised and aching to claim me.

"Take me." I heard myself say, my voice so unfamiliar that it barely sounded like my own.

His gaze grew darker in an instant.

When he entered me, my world splintered apart, shattering into a thousand pieces.

It hurt, but it was more than pain. There was a fierce, twisted satisfaction in being filled, possessed, utterly claimed. He held himself deep, unmoving, our foreheads pressed together, his breath ragged and heavy.

"Look at me, babe," he rasped.

I forced my eyes open, tears blurring everything so badly that I could barely make out his face.

The desire in his eyes was like a bottomless pit, but deep within that darkness, something shone. It was a crazed, relentless, almost frightening obsession.

"You're mine now," he declared, and then he began to move.

Slow and deep, each thrust hitting that spot that made me cry out.

I dug my nails into his back, probably breaking the skin, but he only kissed me harder, swallowing my moans.

The rhythm quickened. The bedposts thudded against the wall in a steady beat. The firelight danced over his sweat-slicked back, his muscles tensing and relaxing. The air was thick with sex, sweat, and the scent of cedar.

"Dante... I can't..." I cried out as the orgasm crashed over me like a tsunami.

He held me tight, growling my name in my ear, and then a hot rush of liquid filled me deep inside.

We collapsed onto the bed, gasping for air, our sweat sticking us together.

Dante didn't pull out right away. He rolled onto his side, pulling me into his arms, his fingers idly combing through my sweat-soaked hair.

Outside, the world was swallowed by darkness. In the distance, Dentevile's lights glittered like an upside-down galaxy.

"Do you regret it?" he asked again, his voice a deep rumble.

I was too exhausted to answer, so I just shook my head and pressed my face against his chest.

His chest rumbled with a quiet laugh.

"Go to sleep," he murmured, kissing my forehead. "Tomorrow's going to be busy."

I closed my eyes, listening to the powerful thump of his heart.

This lunatic. This jerk. He was the man I'd been waiting for seven years. Yet he never even knew it.

I thought I was doomed.