Page 165 of Dance of Deception

Roses—dark, heavy, decadent.

When we got home last night, the house was buried in them, even more than the dressing room.

Black roses.Everywhere.

Another over-the-top gesture from my husband.

Maybe it’s more a reminder of his claim on me. But even if that’s the case, I’m not complaining.

Carmine is standing by the island when I step into the kitchen, his broad back to me, sleeves rolled up and shirt half-unbuttoned, like he didn’t bother finishing the job.

I clear my throat, still groggy from sleep. “Morning.”

He turns slowly, his gaze dragging over me like he’s already undressing me.

My stomach flutters. I'm awake now.

His lips curve dangerously.

“Come here.”

It’s not a request.

I move toward him. The second I’m close enough, his hands are on me. He grabs my wrists, spinning me and pinning me against the counter, caging me in. I gasp, my back arching as his body presses flush against me, hot, solid, unrelenting.

“Carmine—”

His mouth crashes to mine, swallowing my words.

His hands grip my hips, dragging me tighter against him.

His teeth scrape my bottom lip, then my jaw, my throat.

I whimper when he bites down firmly, and I feel his lips curl to a smirk on my skin.

“You’re sore,” he murmurs, his hands skimming lower.

Heat pools low in my core. “Maybe.”

He chuckles darkly. “Onlymaybe?”

His fingers tighten, forcing a gasp from my lips.

“Next time, I’ll have to make sure.”

The words send a shiver down my spine and make a thrill curl deep in my stomach. My lips part, my breath coming unevenly.Then something pops out that has nothing to do with what’s currently going on.

“Whatisthe Black Court?”

Carmine's grip stays firm on me, but his expression shifts, just slightly, before smoothing back into an unreadable mask.

He doesn’t answer. Instead, his fingers resume their slow, lazy movements, like he’s giving himself time to think.

I swallow, forcing my voice to remain steady. “Carmine.” I say his name softly as I reach up, fingers brushing gently over his jaw. “I’m not passing any judgment. I just… I want to know. It seems like such a big part of your world.”

His frown deepens, his thumb pausing mid-stroke against my hip.

“Inoticewhen you leave late at night,” I continue. “I’ve never questioned it, but…”

---