Page 60 of Gilded Princess

My chest rises and falls with quick breaths, the anticipation suffocating. “I might need another reminder.” My voice is breathless, and if I wasn’t so close to seeing how Dante kisses, I might be a little embarrassed about it.

He pulls back, and my lashes flutter open. I don’t know when I closed my eyes, but butterflies soar inside me.

He smirks as he steps back, his hands sliding off of mine with each step. “I had a feeling you might. But for now, let’s watch a movie. It’s my pick.”

He turns around and finishes the popcorn, giving me a few moments to get myself together. That might be the best non-kiss kiss I’ve ever had.

The swirling fog of lust is palpable, like I could reach out and curl my fingers over it in the air.

If I thought I was desperate for him before, after that small taste—a tease, really—I’m downright determined now.

I place a hand over my beating heart, willing my breathing and libido to slow down. Once I feel like I can look at him without jumping him, I grab the large bowls off the counter behind me and help him divvy up the popcorn.

Chapter Twenty-Three

MADDIE

An hour later, and I’m barely paying attention to the movie. It’s honestly freaking me out. It’s not jumping-at-you scary but psychologically, and those always freak me out way more.

It’s not that it’s a bad movie, but I’m probably not the best person to watch it. I’m a baby when it comes to psychological horror films, especially the new ones. I don’t watch them often, but when I do, I’m looking over my shoulder for weeks afterward.

The credits roll and the room darkens with the black screen. The white letters provide the only light, and I realize I have no idea what time it is. It’s easy to lose track of time here.

I roll my head along the back of the couch to look at Dante. His gaze is already on mine, his face open, but I can’t read it.

The empty popcorn bowls sit discarded on the other side of him. He’s leaning back against the couch, his legs spread casually wide and feet firmly planted on the floor. His chest is still bare and I can’t make out the details of his tattoos in this dim lighting. He’s close enough to touch if I stretch my arm out, but far enough away where any brushes of his hand along my shoulder are intentional.

“What did you think?”

“I thought it was fucked-up. In a good but scary as hell way.” I bite my lip and face the screen, thoughts of the scene where you realize what’s actually going on scrolling in my head. The horror on the actors’ faces was tangible.

His thumb presses down on my bottom lip, freeing it from my teeth. “What did I say about that?” His voice is low and smooth, and it sends a wave of warmth through my body.

The pad of his thumb rests against my mouth, and I have a moment of indecision. I talked a big talk to Lainey, but for all my bravado, so far it’s been nothing but hot air. I haven’t been spontaneous at all.

Well, I kind of was in the kitchen a few hours ago, but I sort of thought he would take the opportunity I gave him and kiss me. But maybe he needs another little push.

I swipe my tongue across my bottom lip, catching his thumb in the process. He hisses at the contact, and it’s the reaction I didn’t know I was waiting for. I run my teeth over the pad of his thumb, holding his gaze the entire time.

His eyes darken to nearly black as he slides his hand down the front of my throat, using his thumb to tip my chin up.

“You’re playing with fire, baby girl,” he murmurs, his voice like gravel.

I look at him through half-lidded eyes, my breaths coming faster and deeper. Something about the way he’s holding my neck started an inferno inside me. “Maybe I wanna get burned.”

His fingers flex against my neck, and I can’t stop the groan that spills from me. I don’t know who moves first or if we lean in at the same time, but in the next moment, his lips are on mine.

It’s surprisingly gentle, tentative even. Just his lips pressing against mine for a single moment. I swear it feels like my soul sighs in contentment with the contact. He barely pulls back, just enough to brush his lips across mine.

Once, twice, three times, never taking his hand from my neck. His grip isn’t firm, more careful, reverent.

I feel the smile curl across my lips at his cautious exploration, my body humming in approval.

When he places another chaste kiss on my lips, I decide to play. I love that he’s giving me soft and gentle, but I want to feel him lose control a little. I want to taste his desire.

So, I lean forward and capture his lip between my teeth. And I bite down—hard.

He’s like a caged beast, and I just waved a big, juicy steak in front of him. And then unlocked his cage. His answering growl sounds like lust personified. Low and deep, he groans against my mouth before he captures my lips in an earth-shaking kiss.

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