Page 158 of Modern Romance Collection December 2024 Books 5-8

Never had a man shaken with desire for her. Never had a man wanted to...

Savour her.

Slowly.

But Dante had done, wanted to do, both of those things.

And it spoke to her. To the secret parts inside her that longed for those things. To be savoured. To be precious to someone. Protected because someone cared.

And he cared, didn’t he?

The realisation was acute. It was a piercing pain in her chest. Because all the things her mother had been waiting for her father to provide, Emma had. With Dante.

He was taking care of her, had taken care of her, in all the ways she hadn’t been able to take care of herself. Hadn’t seen herself as worthy of. Or allowed herself to want them. Because belief and hope, they were dangerous. Deadly.

She closed her eyes. Shut everything out. Because all her life she’d been running from her feelings, her needs, her secret desires. Afraid she’d turn out like her mum. Unloved and unwanted. But Emmawaswanted. Not loved. But she was cared for. Protected.

And it was enough.

It was what she wanted.

Slowly, she opened her eyes, turned her head and looked up at him from behind lowered lashes.

So why had she left when she had it so good?

Did it matter anymore?

Higher and higher the lift climbed, until it announced its arrival at the top floor.

Dante turned, the invitation in his gaze mirroring her own.

‘We deserve a bed,’ she said, because he was right. They deserved to explore, to rediscover, their marriage with care. With softness. With consideration.

‘We do,’ he agreed roughly.

Emma moved her gaze to the lift doors. Eyed her reflection in the steel. Stared at her body. A body he knew intimately.

She wondered if he would cradle her breasts as softly as he’d cradled her face in the hospital? Would he slowly apply pressure as she moaned into his mouth? Would she tell him what she liked? That she wanted her nipple in his mouth and that she wanted him to suck? To bite? Would he caress the swell of her stomach? Would his hand move slowly or urgently to the dark hairs curling between her legs?

She wanted to know all these things. How he would touch her. How his touch would be different.

The steel doors opened to their suite.

‘Ready?’ he asked roughly.

Was she? Was she ready to not only survive the night, but toownit.

‘I’m ready.’

CHAPTER EIGHT

TOGETHER,EMMAANDDante moved through the penthouse suite with haste. So quickly that she barely acknowledged how magnificent it was. A mansion all on one level. Made of black marble with silver edges and glass. Huge vases held small cherry blossom trees, pink petals falling everywhere.

As they reached the bedroom door, he slowed.

The fingers in hers loosened and were pulled from her grasp.

Dante opened the door, and stepped aside to allow her to enter. Her gaze moved to the floor-to-ceiling windows that formed two of the four walls of the room.

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