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6. Taming her

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Dante~

She thought she could escape me.

Again.

I should have been furious, but as I watched her press her body against the doorframe, dressed in nothing but that silk nightgown that clung to her like a second skin, all I felt was amusement.

And hunger.

She was stunning.

Wild, untamed, mine.

Even if she didn't know it yet.

I exhaled slowly, placing my glass of whiskey on the nearby table. "Where were you planning on going, Valentina?"

She swallowed hard, her delicate throat bobbing. "Let me pass."

I leaned against the door, smirking. "No."

Her emerald eyes burned with defiance. "You don't own me."

I took a slow step forward. "Not yet."

Another step.

She retreated, her breath uneven, her back pressing into the cold wall behind her.

Trapped.

My hands came up, bracing against the wall on either side of her head, caging her in.

"Still trying to run?" I murmured.

Her lips parted slightly, her chest rising and falling too quickly.

She was fighting it.

Fighting me.

And losing.

I let my fingers trail up the curve of her arm, slow, deliberate, feeling the heat of her skin beneath my touch.

"Don't," she whispered.

I tilted my head, brushing my lips against the shell of her ear. "Don't what?"

She sucked in a breath, but she didn't move away.

Didn't push me.

Because she didn't really want to.

I traced the delicate line of her jaw with my thumb, my lips barely ghosting over her skin. "Tell me to stop, piccola."

Her nails dug into her palms, her entire body trembling.

But no words came.

I dragged my mouth lower, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss against her throat.

She gasped.

There it was.

That moment of surrender.

That second where her body betrayed her, where her pulse raced not with fear—but with something far more dangerous.

Her hands came up suddenly, pressing against my chest. I thought she was going to push me away.

She pulled me closer instead.

Fuck.

I gripped her waist, slamming her fully against the wall as I crushed my mouth against hers.

She made a soft sound—half protest, half desire—but it was lost in the way I kissed her, deep and demanding.

My fingers tangled in her hair, angling her head, taking.

She shouldn't have kissed me back.

But she did.

Her hands curled into my shirt, nails biting into my skin as she gave in.

As she opened her mouth for me.

I groaned, my tongue sliding against hers, tasting her, owning her.

She was fire in my arms—fierce and unrelenting, her lips soft and urgent, as if she hated herself for wanting me.

I dragged my hands lower, gripping the curve of her hips, pressing her against me so she could feel exactly what she did to me.

She let out a sharp breath, breaking the kiss for just a moment.

Her gaze met mine—wild, desperate.

I smirked. "Do you still want to run?"

She didn't answer.

And I already knew why.

To Be Continued...

*ALL that but they're still not married but soon...*

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