Page 160 of Modern Romance Collection December 2024 Books 5-8

‘More,’ she confessed. ‘I wantmore.’

‘More of what?’ he asked. ‘My hands?’ His hands moved back to her waist and up. ‘My fingers?’ His fingertips brushed the sensitive flesh beneath her arms.

Dante peeled the bodice of her dress down over her breasts, revealing the sheer black lace of her bra. And her nipples strained against it.

‘My mouth?’

‘Yes,’ she replied, ‘I want them all.’

His hands cupped her breasts.

‘Like this?’

She swallowed. ‘Harder.’

His fingers held her firmly, his thumbs flicking over the pebbled peaks. ‘Better?’

‘Yes.’

‘And now, do you want my mouth?’

‘Please,’ she mewed. ‘Yes, please.’

His head dipped to her breast, and he sucked her nipple into his mouth until it throbbed.Pulsed.

He lifted his mouth—

‘No!’ Her hands reached for him. Clung to the lapels of his black dinner jacket.

‘No more?’ he asked, nostrils flaring.

‘No,’ she corrected, her voice not her own. It was wanton. ‘Please, don’t stop.’

With deft fingers, he released the front clasp of her bra and let it drop to the floor.

His eyes coveted her chest. ‘You have beautiful breasts,’ he said.

She cried out as he dipped his head again, took the neglected breast into his mouth and suckled.

The blood in her veins whooshed deafeningly with the speed of her heart.

He tugged at the skirt of her dress, pulling it down. But this time his lips remained on her skin. His kiss moved down the valley between her breasts. To the flat of her stomach. And her skirt went down with him. Past her thighs, her knees. Until it fell to the floor and pooled at her feet and she stepped out of it. And Dante was on his knees before her.

‘For months,’ he growled, his features tight, dark, ‘I have thought of the taste of you. Your skin. How it trembles beneath my mouth. How it sings for me. For my touch.’

Her pulse slowed. She searched his gaze, watched as it burned with something primal. Possessive. ‘Only my touch.’

The possessive sentiment didn’t scare her anymore. It made her burn. Made her wet between her legs. It excited her.

His hands gently parted her thighs, and she opened them for him. ‘Can you feel it, Emma?’ he asked. ‘The adrenaline building between us?’ His thumbs stroked her on the inner flesh of her thighs. ‘The power of it?’

Heart raging, she nodded.

‘Put your left hand on my shoulder,’ he demanded, and she did. She reached for him. Held on to the tight hard muscle of him and steadied herself.

Anticipation thrummed through her. Quickened her pulse. Her breathing. Every nerve ending was exposed.

His eyes holding hers, his hand stroked down her right inner thigh, to graze along her knee, until he gripped her sheer-black-stocking-covered calf and lifted it. Placed it on his shoulder.

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