Page 42 of Under His Protection

He growled, leaning in closer and slamming his lips to my mouth. Hints of mint and coffee reached my tongue as he took over the kiss. He demanded. He explored. Without any warning, he silenced me fully and triggered me to drown in desire.

Bracing his hands against the wall, he kept me right where he wanted me, in place and dueling with his tongue.

All I could do was try to please him. To keep up with his hunger and kiss back as hard as he did me. To let him in. To enjoy his need to have this forbidden, sensual contact.

I panted hard, breathing harshly through my nose as I moaned under the rough kiss. I was already catching up with my respiration from running and my workout, but Dante had me breathless. Senseless, too. All I felt, all I wanted to experience, was him. The soft firmness of his lips brushing against mine. The wet slide of his tongue along mine.

Arching into him, I showed how badly I wanted this. How desperately I’d been wanting him. But I didn’t dare touch him. I couldn’t.

“Nina…” He said on a rough exhale once he broke for air.

“I thought I was supposed to be Ms. Bardot.” As I licked my lips, breathing hard and fast for my racing heart, I stared into the darkness of his brown stare. It was a smoldering look, full of heat and need.

“Consider this practice, then.” He leaned in again, fusing his mouth to mine and kissing me even harder. Desire pummeled through me, but I tried not to mess him up.

When he parted again, I furrowed my brow. “Practice? Practice for what?”

He slanted toward me, nipping and gently kissing my lower lip. With a lazy, slow, and leisurely manner, he sampled me, like he had all the time in the world despite the fact that he was dressed and ready to leave, likely for another meeting.

“For tomorrow night,” he answered, still kissing me softly. I couldn’t resist. Catching his mouth again, I replied in kind.

“What’s tomorrow night?” I lifted my hand to rub it over his chest but stopped before I touched him.

“Why are you holding back?”

I curled my hand into a fist and lowered it. “I don’t want to get you dirty or sweaty.”

He hummed. “Maybe later.” Again, I was mute under his lips as he kissed me longer.

“All I want to do is think about being dirty with you,” he growled before he licked his lips, no doubt tasting the salt from my lips and skin.

“Mr. Constella,” I whispered, shocked and so turned on that I didn’t know how I had the energy to get excited after the strenuous run. This was the time to cool down, to slow my body and recoup from the exercise. Instead, I was charging forward with so much thrilling need for him that I struggled to breathe steadily.

“No.” He kissed me harder, pushing me into the wall. “Say my name.”

My God. I didn’t know what was happening, if he was giving up on faking anything and I missed the memo.

“Dante.” I moaned under his answering kiss.

“Dante,” I tried again. “Practice for what?” It was those little words that kept me from thinking this was real, that he had broken and lost control of the maddening sexual tension sparking between us.

“For tomorrow night. The gala.” He just couldn’t stop kissing me, taunting me to reach out and hold him close, to push and grind against him before I looped my legs around his waist.

“You’ll be there with me,” he whispered.

“And… you want to practice how to kiss?” I asked, hating how dumb I sounded.

His chuckle didn’t clue me in. It was a low and wicked sound that turned me on more. He oozed such masculinity, such intelligence and confidence, that I could revel in amusing him. Even at the expense of admitting I was asking something stupid. Something obvious.

“Sure. Call this practice for kissing at the gala.” He looked down at me, growling at the sight of my nipples so hard beneath the wet fabric. “We’ll practice as much as you want.”

I felt like we were talking in riddles. Practicing kissing sounded like an excuse to make out with me. But I played along, anyway. “You’ll teach me?” I asked as I traced the tip of my tongue along his upper lip until he kissed me. “You’ll show me what I need to know? How to look like I’m with you and making you happy?”

“I’ll teach you anything you want to know,” he replied, his voice so deep and husky, threaded with desire.

He wasn’t faking a damn thing right now. Ignoring my whimper of protest as he pushed his body against mine, flush and dirtying his suit with the contact, he kissed me until I thought I’d pass out.

“But I’m not…” I licked my lips and stared up at him, amazed at the lust glittering from his deep brown gaze. “I’m not ready.”

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