My heart’s pounding as I watch him slip a keycard out of his suit jacket pocket and slide it through, the lock beeping.
He opens the door, revealing a gorgeous view of the midtown Manhattan skyline.
“Wow,” I breathe. “Talk about a vista.”
He sets the key aside, turning on the lights then dimming them. “True, but I’m guessing you didn’t come for the view.”
My cheeks flush. “You know exactly why I’m here.”
He closes the door behind us and turns the lock. “Yes. I do.”
My breath catches as he steps forward, brushing his hand down my arm. Sparks dance where his skin meets mine. Slowly, like a man savoring a rare delicacy, he leans in and claims my mouth again.
This time, there’s no jolt of an elevator to interrupt us.
No distractions.
Our kiss is hot and all-consuming within seconds, and I moan into his mouth.
His hands glide around my waist, fingers splaying across my back as though he’s memorizing every contour.
I tug at the lapels of his suit jacket, eager to explore.
He slips it off, flinging it aside with a carelessness that makes me grin against his lips.
He trails kisses along my jaw and down my neck, each one sending a flood of warmth through me.
When his mouth reaches the curve of my shoulder, he pauses, breath hot on my skin.
“You sure about this?”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” I reply, fingers sliding into his thick hair. “Don’t make me second-guess myself.”
He chuckles. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
In one swift movement, he lifts me, guiding me until my back meets the smooth wall.
My dress hikes up, revealing the curve of my thighs.
A spark of vulnerability flickers through me as memories of Luca’s backhanded comments about my body come to mind.
But Dante’s gaze is nothing but hungry admiration.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs, kissing along my collarbone.
A trembling exhale escapes me as his hand explores the curve of my hip, gliding beneath the hem of my dress. W
hen he finds the soft skin of my upper thigh, my breath stutters. Instinct drives me to arch closer, tangling my fingers in his hair.
He kisses me again, more urgently this time.
Slowly, he lowers me to my feet and steps away, his eyes roaming over every inch of my body. He reaches for the zipper at the back of my neck and I nod, giving silent permission.
He pulls it down slowly, the sheer fabric sliding off my shoulders, sending a shiver down my spine.
I let the dress pool at my feet, left in only a lacy bra and panties. Dante looks at me ravenously, as though he’s never seen anything more enticing.
“You’re breathtaking.”
A pang of self-consciousness flutters in my stomach, but his reaction is a balm to every insecurity. “You don’t have to flatter me,” I whisper.
His head snaps up and he meets my eyes. “I don’t say things I don’t mean.”
With a deliberate slowness, he peels off his tie and unbuttons his shirt, revealing a gorgeous, powerful, and well-built torso with a dusting of dark hair.
He unclasps my bra, my breasts tumbling out. I gasp, arms reflexively covering myself, but he gently moves them aside.
“Don’t hide yourself,” he says, capturing my wrists and lifting them above my head, pressing me back against the wall. He smirks as he takes in the sight of me.
He lowers his head, lips brushing over one sensitive nipple. I cry out softly, the sensation overwhelming. His tongue moves in slow circles, sending pleasure throughout my body, while my fingers intertwine with his above my head.
He moves one hand down my waist and over the swell of my hip, hooking his fingers just beneath the edge of my panties. In a smooth motion, he slides them down, letting them drop to the floor. My cheeks burn, but the sight of his raw appreciation fuels my desire.
The moment he releases my wrists, I pull his face to mine for a frantic kiss. My fingers slip under the waistband of his trousers, fumbling with the button until it pops open. He groans when I push his pants down and cup him through his boxer briefs, finding him already hard.
“You’re impatient,” he breathes, chuckling.
“Very,” I admit, pressing my palm more firmly.
He backs up just enough to shed the rest of his clothing, giving me the chance to get a good look at him. My pulse stutters. He’s tall and powerful, each muscle defined and toned. My gaze lingers on the V of his hips as he slowly lowers his waistband.
My breath hitches, heat throbbing between my legs. His cock—thick, long, and hard—stands proudly. A fresh surge of arousal floods my pussy, and I press my thighs together as the ache inside me sharpens until it’s almost unbearable.
Dante watches me, amusement glinting in his dark, predatory gaze. “Like what you see, sweetheart?” His voice is pure sin, rough and teasing.
I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry. “I—”
He closes the space between us in a single stride, grabbing my hips and pulling me flush against him. His cock presses hot and hard against my stomach, and my entire body trembles with need.
“You’re so wet for me,” he murmurs, one large hand trailing down my stomach, fingertips grazing the slick heat between my legs. I groan shamelessly when his fingertip grazes my clit.
“Goddamn, Eva,” he mutters. His fingers glide through my folds, teasing, spreading. “This perfect little pussy is fucking drenched.”
I bite my lip, a desperate whimper slipping free.
Dante presses a hot, open-mouthed kiss to my throat, his tongue flicking over my pulse point, making me shiver. “You want my cock, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I breathe.
He grins against my skin, a wicked, knowing smirk. “Say it.”
I squirm as I say the words, impatient to feel him inside me.
His grip on my hips tightens, pressing my back against the wall. One of his hands tangles in my hair, pulling gently as his lips graze the shell of my ear.
“Good girl,” he praises.
The first brush of his thick manhood against my soaked entrance causes me to shudder. I arch my back, my hands clutching his broad shoulders, nails digging into the firm muscle beneath his skin. We lock eyes, the air between us crackling with heat and need.
I lift my leg and hook it over his hip. He thrusts in, slow but deep, stretching me inch by inch.
My head falls back against the wall, a ragged moan escaping my throat. He’s so fucking big, filling me in a way that feels deliciously obscene. My walls clench around him, adjusting to his size, and he groans deep in his chest, his fingers digging into my hips.
“Christ,” he rasps. “You’re so goddamn tight.”
I gasp, every nerve ending alight with pleasure. My body hums, balanced on a knife’s edge of need, but Dante doesn’t move yet. Instead, he slides his hands up my ribcage, cupping my breasts, rolling my nipples between his fingers. His cock pulses inside me, thick and unmoving, keeping me stretched and aching for more.
“Fuck, I love this,” he murmurs. His voice is dark velvet, a sinful whisper against my skin. “You feel so fucking good wrapped around my cock.”
I whimper, squirming. “Dante, please—”
He remains motionless inside me, teasing, his lips brushing my jaw. “Look at you,” he muses, his voice taunting, full of control. “You’re fucking gorgeous.”
Heat rushes through me, pooling low in my belly.
“You want more?” he asks, mocking sweetness.
“Yes,” I gasp.
He grips my throat, just enough pressure to make me feel it, and leans in. “Then beg for it.”
My body shakes, pleasure coiling unbearably tight inside me. “Please,” I whisper, my dignity wrecked. “I need more.”
His smirk is pure sin.
He pulls out almost completely, leaving just the tip inside me, then drives back in hard and deep, a shattered moan tearing from my throat.
He sets a rhythm—slow, deliberate, punishing—dragging out every thrust until I’m on the brink of insanity. Every plunge fills me to the hilt, the friction making me see stars.
“You like that?” he breathes, his voice dark and hungry.
“Yes,” I moan, nails raking down his back.
His hand slides down, gripping my thigh, lifting my leg higher so he can sink his cock deeper.
The new angle forces out a cry of pleasure, my body slamming against the wall as he pounds into me, each thrust sending shockwaves of rapture through my core.
“Look at you,” he groans, eyes blazing with heat. “So fucking beautiful when you’re taking my cock.”
I shatter, coming hard, completely lost to the pleasure.
But he’s not done yet.
Dante moves too fast for my dazed mind to process, his strong hands gripping my hips and lifting me before I can catch my breath.
One moment, I’m pressed against the wall, wrecked and trembling, and the next, I’m on my back, laid out beneath him, the plush hotel sofa soft against my overheated skin.
He hovers over me, one forearm braced beside my head, his broad chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. The dim light from the city skyline spills through the windows, casting shadows across the sharp angles of his face, making him look like something carved from stone.
For a second, we just look at each other.
Something shifts in the air—hot and electric. Beyond lust. Beyond need.
His hand traces my cheek, his thumb skimming my swollen bottom lip, soft and reverent, like he’s memorizing me.
I arch up, pressing my body against his, silently pleading for more. He groans, low and guttural, and slides inside me again in one smooth, controlled thrust.
His cock stretches me all over again, but this time, there’s no rush. No frantic need to chase the high.
This is something else entirely—slow, sensual, claiming.
His hips roll with precision, dragging every inch of himself along my sensitive, aching walls, hitting the perfect spot, making me arch my body for more.
I breathe his name, and he captures my lips with his, kissing me like he’s starving for my taste. I kiss him back just as desperately, fingers threading through his thick, dark hair, nails scraping his scalp, drinking in every low, husky groan he lets out.
His hands roam, mapping me, memorizing every curve, like my body was meant for him to explore.
The pleasure builds, slow and steady, like the perfect storm, until we’re both on the edge. Our fingers intertwine when he pins my hands above my head, his eyes burning into mine as he thrusts deep one final time.
I fall apart and he follows, a deep groan spilling from his lips as he says my name, his body tensing as he empties himself inside me, our foreheads pressed together.
For a moment, we just breathe one another in, our bodies still tangled.
He finally pulls out and sits up, settling me on his lap. I curl against him, my head resting on his chest as I soak in the afterglow, tingles lingering along every nerve.
We sit together for a few moments, neither of us speaking, simply enjoying the warmth and comfort of each other’s presence. Finally, Dante presses a kiss to my temple.
“You all right?” he asks, concern shining in his eyes.
I exhale a shaky laugh. “I’m better than all right.”
His gaze softens, his dark eyes still smoldering. “Good.”
Unbidden, reality creeps in—I just had mind-blowing sex with Luca’s father.
The head of the Bellacino crime family.
Dante seems to sense the shift in my mood because he cups my chin, tilting my face toward his. “Hey. No regrets.” His voice is quiet but firm, leaving no room for doubt. “You were perfect. I don’t want you second-guessing a damn thing.”
My throat tightens. I want to believe him. I want to stay in this bubble where nothing outside this room exists.
“No regrets,” I say. But part of me already wonders if that’s a lie I’ll have to live with.
To chase the thought away, I kiss him, soft and slow, a stark contrast to the desperate frenzy of before. Then I pull back and glance around the room, taking in the opulence, the towering skyline outside the floor-to-ceiling windows.
“This is a beautiful suite.”
Dante chuckles, running his fingers idly along my thigh. “Comes with the property.”
“You own it?”
“Yes, along with a few other buildings on the block.”
Of course he does.
“Damn,” he says. “I could sleep right now.”
“You say that like you’re not planning to head back to the wedding,” I tease.
His laugh is pure amusement. “That circus can run without me for a while. I’m sure Linda—Luca’s mother—won’t be thrilled, but she’s used to it.”
I frown slightly. “You and Linda…?”
“We had Luca young. Tried to make it work but it didn’t.” He shrugs, a hard edge to his voice, but his focus stays on me. “Suffice it to say, I don’t see eye to eye with her. Or Luca, for that matter.”
I smirk. “Not surprised. I always wondered how a man like him could come from someone so…” I trail off, realizing I might’ve just paid him a very obvious compliment.
His low laugh vibrates through me. “I’ll take that as flattery.”
“Seriously, though, they’re not missing you down at the wedding?”
He shakes his head. “I made my appearance for the ceremony. When I spotted you and your friend, it was the perfect excuse to slip out.”
He doesn’t seem to be all that thrilled about the wedding in general. But I’m not about to press the matter.
Then another thought hits me.
Halsey. Shit
I snatch my phone off the end table, guilt coiling low in my gut.
The screen lights up—a barrage of texts lighting it up like a Christmas tree.
Halsey:
WHERE THE HELL DID YOU GO?
Halsey:
YOU CAN’T JUST DISAPPEAR AFTER CAUSING A SOCIAL EARTHQUAKE.
Halsey:
EVA. PICK UP.
Are you breathing? Blink twice.
Halsey:
Are you dead?
Or being ravished??? I’m not judging.
Halsey:
HELLO????
If you don’t text me back in five minutes, I’m calling in a SWAT team.
“Shit,” I mutter, dragging a hand down my face. “I’m such an asshole.”
Dante leans against the back of the couch, arms folded, amusement playing at the edges of his mouth. “Your friend?”
“Yeah.” I sigh. “I screwed up.”
“Tell her to meet you at the reception,” he says. “She’s welcome.”
I hesitate. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. It’s Luca’s day.”
“And?”
I exhale loudly, ignoring my urge to bail.
Me:
I’m fine. Meet me at the reception.
Halsey:
Fine??? Are you with LUCA’S DAD??
Me:
Yes
Halsey:
Oooooooo. You vixen!
You are SO bad. I want to know EVERYTHING!!!!
I set my phone down, turning my attention back to Dante.
Silence settles between us.
His fingers trace slow, lazy circles over my skin while something still gnaws at the back of my mind.
I take a deep breath.
“We said no regrets. But realistically, do you think we should just leave this here?”
Dante’s thumb brushes absently along my hip, his expression darkening as if the answer already hurts.
“The truth is… I have enemies, Eva. And if they find out I’m seeing someone—especially someone tied to Luca—it won’t just be inconvenient. It’ll be dangerous. For you.”
My stomach knots. I exhale slowly. “You’re a dangerous man.”
“Yes,” he says. “But I’ve never wanted to keep anyone safe more than I want to protect you.”
That shouldn’t make my heart skip.
But it does.
It absolutely does.
I bite my lip, staring at the strong planes of his face, the faint silver threading through his dark hair.
The way he looks at me—like I’m the only thing anchoring him to something good—nearly undoes me.
It would be so easy to stay, to pretend this could work.
But loving him out loud would come with a body count.
And we both know it.
I press a kiss to his chest before pulling away, lingering for half a second longer than I should.
Memorizing the warmth. The scent. The ache.
“Maybe it’s best to end on a good note.”
A brief flicker of sadness steals into his gaze. “If that’s what you want.”
I smooth a hand over his jawline, feeling the faint roughness of his stubble.
“It’s what’s smart,” I whisper. “That doesn’t mean I’ll ever forget.”
I stand and gather my clothes, my skin still humming from his touch as I slip them on.
He dresses too, each movement slow, like dragging through molasses, like maybe if we take long enough—this won’t have to end.
By the time I slip back into my dress, the chaos from earlier has apparently simmered.
I check my phone.
Another text from Halsey.
Halsey:
Guests are still buzzing.
Reception starting.
You better walk into this bitch like the main event.
I lower the phone slowly and turn to face him.
My voice is a whisper, heavy with meaning. Heavy with goodbye.
“You knew I’d fall for you, didn’t you?”
He doesn’t deny it. Doesn’t flinch.
He just watches me like he’s memorizing everything—
My face, my scent, the sound of my voice.
I reach for the door, my hand trembling.
Then—
His voice. Low. Velvet-wrapped sin.
“You ever change your mind, angel…
You know where to find me.”
