Page 2 of Claimed By the Don

I cross and uncross my legs, my thighs clenching together under the slinky fabric of my dress. I feel feverish and shaky, acutely aware of every blazing inch of skin. The way his penetrating stare tracks the movement sends a dart of heat straight to my core.

"I was just looking to escape for a minute," I manage finally, my voice emerging throatier than usual. I clear my throat. "Get some air."

He tilts his head, amusement dancing in his eyes. "In a windowless room?"

My cheeks flush. "You know what I mean," I mutter, feeling off-balance. Gauche. Hardly the seductress I want to be in the face of this man's overwhelming virility. God, what is wrong with me? He's just a guy. An exceptionally attractive one, sure, but still. "I should get back to my friend."

I start to rise but he steps closer, a large hand landing on my bare knee. I still, my breath turning shallow as his heat sinks into my flesh. The spicy, expensive scent of him teases my nostrils.

"What's your hurry, beautiful?" His thumb draws a slow, sensual circle over my skin. Desire sparks hot and bright in my veins. "The night's still young. And I'm excellent company." His lips quirk. "Promise I won't bite."

A wicked impulse seizes me then, emboldening my tongue. "Now where's the fun in that?" I hear myself purr. Wait, did I actually just say that out loud?

His grin turns wolfish, pleased. "Mmm, a woman after my own tastes." His fingers drift higher up my thigh, almost absentminded... except for how carefully he's watching my reaction, my shallow breaths and rosy cheeks. "Maybe I will bite, then."

My brain short-circuits, fizzling out in a blaze of white-hot static. I can't think, not with his touch infiltrating my senses, setting me ablaze from the inside out. I've never been this intensely attracted to someone, not from the very first glance. It's like every cell in my body is straining towards him, recognizing him on some molecular level.

What is this? Who is he?

His fingertips skim my thigh, raising a trail of goosebumps in their wake. He sits next to me, closer than any relative stranger would. I don't move away.

"Do you make a habit of accosting women trying to get a minute alone?" I ask, tamping down a shiver as his woodsy cologne envelops me. I tilt my head back to meet his eyes.

He grins, a flash of white. "Only the beautiful ones." His fingertips caress the delicate skin inside my elbow. "I'm Dante, by the way. Since we're getting acquainted."

My lips curve in a reluctant smile. "I’m Ginetta," I offer, feeling breathless under the intensity of his stare. I lick my suddenly dry lips. His eyes zero in on my mouth, lingering there.

"Ginetta," he repeats, savoring my name like a fine whiskey. "Gorgeous. Like the rest of you."

I flush, heat and pleasure twining together low in my belly. He's a smooth talker, this one. I better be on my guard, no matter how panty-meltingly sexy he is. Men like him are trouble, in every sense of the word.

"Does that line usually work for you?" I arch my brow, trying to regain my metaphorical footing.

Dante chuckles, a husky rumble I feel in my chest. "Who says it's a line?" His fingers dip into the tender crook of my elbow before skimming upward to trace the curve of my shoulder. My breath hitches as he plays me like an instrument he's long mastered. "Maybe I'm just speaking the truth, bella. You're exquisite."

Oh, God. His voice is pure aural sex, low and rough. It vibrates through me, plucking at something deep inside. I shift on the cushion, my inner muscles clenching. I feel empty, achy. Needy. For him.

This is insane. I met this man all of five minutes ago. I don't even know his last name, for God's sake. He could be a serial killer. An escaped convict. A married man looking for a side piece.

Or maybe he's just an incredibly sexy, charismatic guy who happens to be into me. Stranger things have happened.

His fingers brush the sensitive skin of my neck, making me shiver. "I watched you out there, you know," he murmurs, his face dipping closer to mine. The spicy scent of him fills my head. "The way you move, those curvy hips swaying...fuck. Every man in this club wants you, Ginetta."

"Even you?" I mean for it to come out flippant. But my voice betrays me, emerging soft and vulnerable.

His eyes flare, turning molten. "Especially me."

I swallow hard, my heart tripping against my ribs. His hand curves around my nape, fingers sifting into my hair. He scans my face intently for a long, charged moment. I wonder what he sees in my wide eyes, my parted lips. The blatant longing I'm too buzzed to disguise, probably.

"Jesus. Look at you." It's a gravelly rasp, almost frustrated. Dante's hot gaze drops to my mouth again, his own lips thinning. "You have no idea how fucking gorgeous you are, do you? How badly I want to kiss you right now."

My pulse jackhammers, my skin flushing hot and cold all over. No one has ever looked at me like this, with such raw, unfiltered desire. Like he's dying to taste me, touch me, take me. It's dizzying, a head rush like no other.

It's that dizzy feeling that has me leaning in, erasing the mere inches between us until my lips find his. I'm not a girl who normally makes the first move, but I can't help myself. Dante is magnetic, all raw hunger and coiled intensity. He's the kind of man who could ruin me for all others.

He makes a rough sound in his throat and takes immediate control of the kiss, his mouth slanting over mine. One hand fists in my hair, the other skimming over my hip to splay across my lower back, urging me closer. I go willingly, pressing my front to the solid wall of his chest as his tongue delves past my lips to stroke my own.

Oh, my God. Liquid heat pools low in my pelvis at the exquisite invasion, the flavor of bourbon and pure male. He kisses like he does everything else - with dedicated focus and scorching intensity. It's overwhelming and perfect, like finding water after wandering days in the desert.

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