Page 62 of Dangerous King
"That's where you're wrong." His voice is rough, controlled—but barely. "You don't even know what you're doing to me. And that's the fucking problem."
My cheeks burn. My whole body feels strange, like I've stepped into a world I was only ever allowed to read about.
"But I trust you," I say softly. "I don't know why. I just do."
He closes his eyes for half a second like he's gathering himself. When he opens them again, they're darker than before. Hungrier. "Don't say that unless you mean it, because I'll take it. And I'll never give it back."
"I mean it," I whisper.
I do. Even if I don't know what comes next.
His breath touches my cheek. My lips. I freeze, not out of fear, but with anticipation so sharp it might break me open. My heart has climbed into my throat, where it's hammering in a wild staccato. Is this it? Is this the moment I will be kissed? I've never done this before, never been kissed. And with him? It seems too good to be true. Suddenly, I want it more than I want to breathe.
He hesitates, just a beat. Giving me room. A chance to turn away, but I don't. My eyes are wide open; I want to see every second of this and commit it to memory forever. It's strange how hard my heart is pumping and how my breath is so slow and low.
It's soft at first. The brush of his lips against mine, so warm and steady. They feel hot, but not burning. My entire body is coiled and flooded with the most delicious sensations I've ever experienced. His hand comes up, cupping the back of my neck, and his thumb grazes my jaw as if I'm something precious.
I can't think. My whole body lights up. My skin tightens. My chest rises and falls in shallow bursts. I'm not completely naïve. I've read books and watched movies. I know what to do. I part my lips, and his kiss deepens. Not too much. Just enough to taste me.
It's slow.
Careful.
Deliberate.
Like he knows this is the first time anyone's touched me like this, and he doesn't want to rush a second of it. I don't know where to put my hands, so I grab his shirt. My fingers curl into the fabric,anchoring me to him, to the Earth, because otherwise, I worry I might float away.
When he finally pulls back, I feel like I've run a mile. But better.
He searches my face, his own is set in an unreadable mask again, but his eyes,his eyes, are softer than I've ever seen them.
"Your first?" he asks quietly.
I nod, my breath caught between us. "Yes."
A flicker of something moves through his expression. It's not surprise or lust… it's satisfaction? That and pride, the quiet, smug kind a man wears when he's claimed something no one else ever has.
I don't fully understand it, but the heat in his eyes tells me he does.
"I won't rush you," he says, in a low voice. "But I'll warn you now, Piccolina…"
He leans in again, brushing his lips near my ear. "I'm not just the first man to taste your lips—I'll be the last. After this, you belong to me. No one touches what's mine."
My throat tightens. My stomach flips. Somewhere deep inside, where the fear used to live, a new feeling begins to bloom.
Hope.
Want.
Fire.
Shadow stirs, as if he senses the shift in me, and lets out a quiet huff before settling again. I press my fingers to my lips, still stunned by how soft his mouth felt on mine.
"I think I'm in trouble," I whisper.
Enrico gives a low chuckle, the kind that vibrates in my bones.
"You have no idea," he says.
